by Morgan, Sara
‘Oh.’ Libby digested this. ‘Evidently she thinks you’ve been dating the wrong sort of women.’
He threw back his head and laughed. ‘She does indeed.’ His smile faded. ‘A bit like you. You’ve obviously been dating the wrong sort of men.’
Libby stared into those seductive brown eyes and swallowed hard. ‘I’ve already told you, there’s no such thing as the right sort of man.’
There was a slight pause. ‘And you feel like this because of Philip or because of your parents?’
Libby stared at him. ‘How do you know about my parents?’
‘You told me.’ He threw her an amused glance. ‘You had drunk an orange juice so it’s no wonder you don’t remember.’
Libby gave a reluctant laugh and then slunk down in her seat. ‘I don’t want to talk about my parents.’ She never talked about her parents to anyone. Why on earth had she mentioned them to him? ‘I don’t want to talk about any of it.’
‘Not even Philip?’
‘Especially not Philip.’
‘Were you in love with him?’
He asked the question calmly and Libby looked at him, startled.
‘No. I don’t think so. But he was very persistent. Going out with him seemed logical.’
‘Logical?’ Andreas lifted an eyebrow. ‘A true love affair should never be logical, surely. It is about emotion and losing control.’
Libby’s smile faded under the intensity of his dark gaze.
She’d never had a love affair with anyone.
‘Well, it’s probably my fault, then,’ she muttered. ‘I’m not great at losing control. In fact, I’m a control freak. I like to be in charge of everything that happens in my life.’
There was a long silence and then Andreas turned in his seat so that he was facing her.
‘Powerful sexual chemistry is not controllable,’ he said softly, lifting a hand and pushing a wisp of blonde hair away from her face. ‘It’s an intense emotional reaction that is beyond human explanation. Evidently you haven’t felt that. Yet.’
The gentle brush of his fingers against her skin was unbelievably erotic and she felt excitement swoop inside her and concentrate low in her pelvis.
If sexual chemistry was butterflies in her stomach and difficulty breathing then she was feeling it now.
For him.
Dear God, she wasn’t ready for this. After what had happened with Philip she doubted she’d ever be ready for it.
So why was she reacting so strongly?
Totally unnerved by the way he made her feel, Libby reached out and fumbled for her seat belt.
‘I’m going. Goodnight.’
Before she could release the catch a strong hand covered hers and her head jerked up, her eyes clashing with his.
‘Libby, it’s OK. You can trust me—’
‘No!’ Breathing rapidly, she pulled away from him and opened the car door before turning back to face him. ‘Don’t turn your lethal charm on me, Dr Christakos. Save it for all those millions of women that must be desperate for your attentions. I’m not interested. Thanks for the pizza.’
And with that she closed the car door behind her, hoping he couldn’t see how much her knees were shaking.
Chapter 4
Libby arrived on the ward the next morning, determined to distance herself from Andreas.
She was finding it harder and harder to concentrate on her work with those sexy dark eyes seducing her every time she turned around.
There really was something to be said for having puny, ugly doctors around the place, she reflected. At least they made it easy to keep your mind on work
If it was at all possible, she was going to bleep Jonathon, the SHO. At least he wasn’t a threat to her pulse rate.
Even though it was early, the ward was already bustling with activity and Libby went straight to see little Rachel.
One of the night nurses was checking her temperature and glanced up as she saw Libby.
‘Hi, there. I’m glad to see you. It means I can go home to bed.’
Libby smiled and looked at the child. ‘How is she? She looks a little better.’
‘Her temperature is down a bit so I think the antibiotics must be working. Dr Christakos checked on her in the night and he thought she seemed to be showing a response even though it’s only been twenty-four hours. He thinks it’s definitely a urinary tract infection.’
‘He saw her in the night?’ Given that he’d dropped her off fairly late, Libby was surprised to hear that he’d paid a visit to the hospital.
The other nurse smiled dreamily. ‘He’s so impressive. He was worried about the little girl who had the asthma attack last night. Apparently it was touch and go for a while in A and E and when he admitted her to the ward he was concerned that she could go off again.’
‘So he came in to check her?’
‘Yes. At about eleven o’clock.’
Just after he’d dropped her home.
Libby cleared her throat, trying to keep her voice casual. ‘Has he been in this morning yet?’
Her colleague nodded. ‘Oh, yes. He wanted to take some bloods from Rachel and while he was here he checked Marcus because he’s due for discharge today.’
Libby hid her surprise. He certainly wasn’t afraid of hard work. His team was really stretched and he was obviously more than happy to roll up his sleeves and help out.
On the other hand, his diligence was going to make it harder for her to avoid him. She could have done with a consultant who sat in his office and delegated.
‘I’ll finish off here. You go home. Where’s her mum?’
‘Having a wash. Apparently Rachel was awake quite a bit in the night so she didn’t get much sleep.’
‘Wet nappies?’
‘Plenty, but I have to confess she didn’t drink much in the night.’
Libby nodded. ‘OK. I’ll make a real effort to get her drinking today and then hopefully we can take that drip down.’
She smiled as Rachel’s mother arrived back in the room, clutching a wash-bag and looking incredibly tired.
‘Good morning. She looks a little better.’
Alison looked at her daughter anxiously. ‘Do you think so? She certainly seems a little cooler but she was very fretful in the night.’
‘It’s early days yet,’ Libby agreed, ‘but hopefully she’ll start to pick up today. We need to get her drinking so that we can get that drip out.’
The mother looked at her doubtfully. ‘I suppose I could try her with a bottle now…’
‘Let’s give her another half-hour and see if she wakes up a bit,’ Libby suggested, breaking off as Andreas walked into the room.
‘Good morning.’
His voice was warm and intensely masculine and Libby felt her whole body hum with sexual awareness.
Colour warmed her cheeks. ‘I need to check her temperature, but she’s sleeping at the moment,’ she explained quickly, as he picked up the chart. ‘She seems to be picking up and I thought she’d be better off being left to rest. We’ll try her with a bottle in half an hour.’
He scanned the chart briefly, looking at the readings the night shift had recorded. ‘Let me know what her obs are when you’ve checked them and keep her fluids up. If there’s a problem, call me. I’ve got to go down to A and E to see a child.’
Breathing a sigh of relief that he was going to be absent from the ward for at least a short time, Libby got back to work.
She checked on the patients who were her responsibility and then went back to Rachel and found her sitting on Alison’s lap, looking much more alert.
‘Oh, she’s definitely a bit better,’ Libby said, pleased by the change in the child in such a short time. ‘I’ll just check her temperature again and then we’ll try and get that bottle down her.’
The temperature reading was down considerably and the baby took the bottle eagerly.
Alison was delighted. ‘She wouldn’t touch it yesterday so she must be feeling better.’
/> Libby nodded. ‘We’ll keep the drip up for now and I’ll speak to Dr Christakos about it later. I expect he’ll want her to carry on having her antibiotics into the vein for now, but hopefully if she carries on drinking plenty then we can take that drip out later today.’
Making a mental note to discuss it with Andreas next time he appeared on the ward, Libby recorded the results and went to check on her next patient.
Her morning was horrendously busy and she was just starting to hope that she might actually be able to stop for a coffee when a five-year-old child was admitted with vomiting and fever.
Andreas appeared on the ward just as she arrived and Libby grabbed him immediately.
‘Her GP sent her in because she’s not keeping anything down and she’s becoming dehydrated,’ she told him as she briefed him about the patient. ‘I’ve put her in a side ward for now, until we know what it is. If it’s something infectious then we obviously don’t want it spreading over the whole ward.’
He nodded and scanned the letter. ‘OK—let’s take a look at her.’
Melanie Palmer was lying on the bed, crying and clutching her stomach.
Her mother was sitting next to her, her face drawn with worry. She stood up when Andreas entered the room.
‘She’s been like this since yesterday morning, and she’s getting worse,’ she told them, her eyes pleading. ‘What do you think it is?’
‘I’m going to take a look at her now,’ Andreas said immediately, walking over to the sink to wash his hands. ‘How did it start, Mrs Palmer?’
The mother closed her eyes briefly, battling with tears. ‘Sorry,’ she muttered, ‘but I’ve been up all night with her…’
Her face crumpled and Libby slipped an arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t apologise. We understand how stressful it is when your child is sick. Take your time.’
‘It started yesterday,’ Mrs Palmer told them. ‘She seemed a bit tired when I left her at Sunday school but nothing that made me anxious.’
‘And when you picked her up, how did she seem?’
‘She was white as a sheet and complaining of pain in her stomach, but I assumed that was because of the vomiting,’ Mrs Palmer said. ‘I left it for a few hours, but then her temperature shot up and she seemed so poorly I called the GP. He just said it was a stomach bug and to give it twenty-four hours to settle.’
Andreas walked across to the bed. ‘But evidently it didn’t settle.’
‘She was dreadful in the night. Moaning and crying and clutching her stomach. And her stomach seemed really swollen.’ Mrs Palmer bit her lip. ‘I didn’t know what to do with her so I called the GP again this morning. I think he’s probably going to strike me off his list for being such a nuisance.’
‘You were right to call him again.’ Andreas caught Libby’s eye and she knew that he was thinking the same thing as her. That the GP had been too dismissive of Melanie’s symptoms.
‘Whereabouts was the pain in her stomach?’ Andreas asked. ‘Did she tell you?’
Mrs Palmer shrugged helplessly. ‘Everywhere, I think.’
Andreas nodded and settled himself on the edge of the bed.
‘Hello, Melanie.’ He spoke softly to the little girl. ‘Mummy tells me you’ve got a tummyache. Can I take a look?’
Libby watched him, full of admiration for the way that he dealt with children. She’d worked with so many doctors who didn’t have the first clue how to relate to children. They just waded in with their tests and examinations and then wondered why the child wouldn’t co-operate.
But fortunately Melanie was obviously smitten with the handsome Greek doctor.
She looked at Andreas trustingly. ‘I’ve got a poorly tummy.’
Andreas nodded, his dark eyes warm. ‘I know you have, sweetheart.’
‘Are you going to make it better?’
‘I’m certainly going to try, but you’ll have to help me.’ He lifted his stethoscope out of his pocket. ‘First I’m going to listen and then you’re going to listen.’
A brief smile touched the little girl’s pale face and she lay still as Andreas started to examine her, whimpering occasionally with pain.
Libby watched as he used his fingers to gently palpate the child’s abdomen.
‘She has oblique muscle rigidity,’ he murmured, ‘which is a sign of peritoneal irritation.’
Libby looked at him, trying to read his mind. He obviously didn’t think that Melanie had gastroenteritis.
Mrs Palmer was biting her nails in agitation. ‘What does that mean?’
‘I don’t think she has a stomach bug, Mrs Palmer,’ Andreas said gently. ‘I think that she has appendicitis and unfortunately it has burst, which is why her stomach is so very painful and swollen. Libby, can you bleep the surgeons urgently, please, and then come back and help me? I need to get a line in. Mrs Palmer, when did she last have something to eat or drink?’
‘She had a few sips of water in the night,’ Mrs Palmer told them, ‘but nothing to eat since breakfast yesterday morning.’
Leaving Andreas to finish his questioning, Libby hurried out onto the ward and rang the switchboard, asking them to bleep the on-call surgeons.
While she was there she gathered up the distraction box and the rest of the equipment she needed and then returned to the room.
Andreas was talking to Melanie, his deep voice gentle and soothing. ‘I need to put a plastic tube in your arm, sweetheart.’
Melanie stared at him. ‘Will it hurt?’
‘Yes, a bit,’ Andreas said honestly. ‘But we need to do it to make you better.’
Libby looked at him. ‘We could use a local anaesthetic cream.’
‘No time.’ Andreas reached for a swab and a venflon. ‘It takes at least half an hour to work and I need to get this line in now. She needs to go to Theatre.’
Libby looked at the mother. ‘If you find this too upsetting you could go and get a cup of coffee while we put the drip up.’
Mrs Palmer shook her head, her eyes glistening with tears. ‘No. I can’t leave her. Do whatever you have to do.’
‘Right, then, Melanie.’ Libby sat on the bed and put the distraction box next to the little girl. ‘Let’s have a look in here and see what we can find.’
‘Balloons!’ Melanie reached into the box and pulled out a pink balloon. ‘Can I have it?’
‘Of course. Why doesn’t Mummy blow it up while we sort you out?’
Libby handed the balloon to Mrs Palmer who obligingly took it and blew.
Seeing that the child was distracted, Andreas searched for a vein.
‘OK—squeeze there for me, Libby, and don’t let go.’
Libby knew what he was saying. If they missed the vein on the first attempt, it would be doubly difficult to persuade a child of this age to co-operate, and it was distressing for everyone.
She hoped Andreas was good at finding tiny veins in tiny hands.
He was.
He swabbed the skin, grabbed the child’s hand firmly and slid the needle in with the minimum of fuss.
Melanie was so busy watching the balloon grow bigger and bigger that by the time she opened her mouth to protest the cannula was safely taped in place.
Despite all her intentions about keeping her distance, Libby smiled at him. ‘You’re a genius, Dr Christakos.’
He grinned. ‘So are you. I loved your distraction box.’
‘It usually helps, but not always.’
Andreas turned to Jonathon, who had just appeared. ‘OK, can you take some bloods while we’re waiting for the surgeons, please?’
Melanie stared down at her hand. ‘What does that do?’
‘It means that I can give you medicines straight into your body,’ Andreas explained, his voice gentle.
‘I haven’t listened to your chest yet,’ she reminded him, and Andreas smiled.
‘That’s right. You haven’t.’ He undid a few of the buttons of his shirt and sat still while Melanie lifted the stethoscope to his chest.
Shocked by her own thoughts, she dragged her eyes away, thoroughly relieved when the surgeons arrived.
Andreas smiled at the little girl and gently retrieved his stethoscope, totally relaxed as he briefly described his findings to Mr Jenner, the surgeon.
‘I’ll take her down straight away,’ Dave Jenner said, after examining the child himself.
Libby collected a consent form and hovered by the bed, her gaze drawn again to the tantalising vision of Andreas with his shirt still undone.
He was powerfully built and strong and just that one glimpse was enough to make her imagine what the rest of him must look like.
She swallowed.
Still in conversation with Dave, Andreas lifted a hand and casually started to button his shirt, pausing suddenly as he intercepted Libby’s gaze.
His eyes locked with hers and something passed between them, a mutual acknowledgment of the sizzling attraction that seemed to envelop both of them whenever they were together.
Libby struggled to free herself from the intensity of his gaze and something of her disquiet must have shown on her face because his firm mouth curved into a smile so sexy that her knees shook alarmingly.
Bother the man!
He was totally aware of the effect he had on her.
Turning her attention back to the patient with a huge effort, she concentrated on getting the little girl ready for surgery.
‘I don’t want to take my pyjamas off.’ Melanie wrapped her arms around herself and Libby managed a smile, pleased to have something to look at rather than Andreas.
‘You don’t have to take your pyjamas off, sweetheart. You can keep them on.’ She examined the characters dancing over the fabric. ‘I love them.’
‘Daddy buyed them for me,’ Melanie announced firmly, and her mother tensed.
‘We’re not together any more,’ she muttered in an undertone. ‘I suppose I ought to call him.’