by Amy Andrews
Things were finally looking up. Finally going their way. All she had to do was convince Harry to let her be in the theatre to observe McKenzie’s operation on Monday and life would be complete.
A butterfly flapped its wings in her stomach as she rehearsed the words again. Not that Paige really thought it would be an issue. Yes, it wasn’t usual but she knew Harry well enough to feel confident that he’d overlook the rules for his right-hand woman.
Paige was actually humming as she entered the operating theatre change rooms. Dr Gloria Reinhart, the anaesthetist Harry used for his lists, was changing into her scrubs and Paige bade her a hearty good morning.
‘Morning,’ Gloria said, staring at Paige, an odd look on her face.
Paige frowned. ‘What?’
Gloria shrugged. ‘Nothing. It’s just that I’ve never heard you hum before.’
Paige didn’t need a translation. She knew she was serious. That she wasn’t much fun. She came to work, ran Harry’s theatre and his clinics with ruthless efficiency, not particularly caring whether she made friends or not. She didn’t socialise or have time for gossip or idle chit-chat.
She was respected. Whether she was liked or not hadn’t been a priority.
Paige grinned. ‘Well, it’s about time that changed, don’t you think?’
Gloria responded with a grin of her own. ‘Past time, I’d say.’
They chatted while Paige changed into her scrubs and then went in different directions—Gloria to the staffroom for a cuppa with her colleagues, Paige to Theatre four to set up for the first case.
The theatre list was sticky-taped to the door of theatre four’s anaesthetic room and Paige removed it. Not that she needed it, she knew exactly which patients were being operated on today. In fact, if pushed, she could probably recite the list for the next month, even though it was next Monday’s she was the most fixated on.
There were two paediatric patients on the list this morning. Children were always done first. It caused less stress for the parents, who didn’t have to wait around all day worrying about their child going under general anaesthesia, and also for the children, who were often at an age where they were frightened of the clinical hospital environment and didn’t understand why they couldn’t eat and drink and run around.
A little thrill ran through Paige’s stomach at the thought that, come Monday, McKenzie Donald would be first on this list and her spirits lifted even further. Paige couldn’t remember a time when she had felt this positive. It had been a long hard three years with many a detour and roadblock. It was hard to believe the path was suddenly clear.
Theatre four was frigid when she entered via the swing doors and Paige rubbed at the goose-bumps on her arms. Soon she would be gowned up and under hot lights and wistfully remembering the cold, but for now it seeped quickly into bones that had very little covering insulating them.
You’re too thin.
The words Valentino had uttered that fateful night as he had lazily run his finger up her spine crept up on her unexpectedly, as they so often did, echoing loudly in her head and sounding very close in the silence of the empty theatre. So close, in fact, she looked behind her to check he hadn’t actually appeared.
Nope. Just her.
She shook her head and frowned. She’d thought about the man so much in the last two months it wouldn’t have surprised her to have conjured him up. She’d tried, usually quite successfully, to pigeonhole her thoughts of him to night-time only, to her dreams, but sometimes they crept up on her unawares.
She should have been insulted by his assessment of her body but one look at the heat and desire in his eyes and she’d known that he hadn’t been turned off. In fact, quite the opposite—he’d wanted her badly.
It was merely a statement of fact. She was thin.
She hadn’t had much of an appetite since the twins had been born prematurely. Daisy’s death, Arnie’s desertion and McKenzie’s fragile health had robbed what little had remained. She ate only to fuel her body, with no real enjoyment when she did.
All her energy was focused on getting McKenzie to eat. McKenzie’s appetite. McKenzie’s nutritional needs. McKenzie’s caloric requirements. Paige Donald came low down on Paige Donald’s list of priorities. And, besides, things just tasted so bland.
A hoot of laugher outside in the corridor pulled Paige out of her reverie and she pushed thoughts of Valentino aside. This was daytime. Tonight she could think about him again, dream about him again. Vivid dreams that woke her in a sweat with parts of her throbbing, his name on her lips, his taste in her mouth.
She busied herself getting the theatre set up, grabbing the trolleys and positioning them correctly around the operating table, wiping them down with a solution of surgical spirits. She exited the theatre via the back door into the sterilising room. Four sterilised trays wrapped in special blue disposable cloth were waiting for her and she grabbed the nearest, along with extra drapes and gowns and two pairs of size-eight gloves for Harry and his resident.
She dumped them on the trolleys inside the theatre, ready to be opened by the scout nurse while she herself was at the sinks scrubbing up. She went back out again, selecting other bits and pieces she knew Harry would need—suture material, dressings and, of course, the actual implant device itself.
Paige turned the boxed bionic ear around in her hands. It was hard to believe that something so innocuous could give such a precious gift. That come Monday one would be implanted into McKenzie’s head. She hugged it to her chest, sending up a quick prayer into the universe.
Please let everything be okay.
She went back into the theatre, dropping the extras on the trolley. A noise from the anaesthetic room alerted her to Harry’s arrival and she smiled. It was nice working for someone as dedicated as she was. Paige glanced at her watch. Now, while they were still alone, was as good a time as any to ask her boss the question.
She shoved open the swing doors with her shoulder, ready to launch into her spiel. Excited even. Except the man in the anaesthetic room wasn’t Harry. He wasn’t thin and a little stooped and grey-haired. He was big and broad with curls of dark hair escaping the confines of his theatre cap to brush the neckline of his scrubs. Even if she hadn’t dreamt about that back every night for the last two months, the lurch low down in her pelvis would have alerted her to his identity anyway.
Valentino Lombardi looked up from the theatre list he’d been studying and turned. Neither of them said anything for a few moments as a host of memories bubbled between them.
Valentino swallowed. He’d been prepared to see her again but totally unprepared for the sucker punch to his gut as her big grey eyes, round with shock, met his.
‘Paige. Bella. We meet again.’
Paige blinked. She even blushed a little as the things they’d done together made her awkward beneath his gaze. It didn’t help that he filled out a pair of surgical scrubs better than any man on the planet.
She’d seen him in a tux and in the buff and now in a set of scrubs. Was there nothing the man didn’t look magnificent in? ‘Valentino?’
What did he think he was he doing here? Was he here to observe? To assist? Didn’t he live in Rome? Or London? Where was Harry?
Valentino saw the confusion in her gaze and shot her a lazy grin. He’d relegated their one night two months ago to a pleasant interlude and done his hardest to forget about it. But standing before him now in baggy scrubs, no make-up, her hair covered in a sexless blue theatre hat, he finally admitted he hadn’t forgotten one second of their time together.
A strange unease descended on them and he couldn’t bear it.
Paige’s heart skipped a couple of beats and then accelerated as his low flirty voice oozed into all the places that still craved his touch. The pinkness in her cheeks deepened as she remembered where his mouth had been. Oh, God! This wouldn’t do at all.
‘Dr Lombardi.’ Paige’s voice was stern as she glared at him and regained her composure. ‘What are you doing here? W
here’s Harry?’
Valentino laughed. So much for small talk. He regarded her for a second. What he had to tell her next would have an impact on her probably more than anyone. Harry had stressed the need to break it to Paige gently.
‘I’m afraid Dr Abbott had to rush to Hobart in the early hours of this morning. His grandson was kicked in the head by a horse and is in Intensive Care.’
Paige gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. Oh, no! How awful. ‘Was it Andy or Ben?’ Harry’s daughter and her family lived on a horse stud just outside Hobart. They were a close-knit family despite the distance, and Paige knew this would be devastating for them all.
‘Ben.’
Oh, dear, Ben was only four. One year older than McKenzie. Paige moved closer to him, needing to know more. ‘How is he? Is he…has he…?’
Valentino covered the distance between them, reaching out for her, clasping her shoulders gently. ‘He’s critical. That’s all I know.’
Paige looked at him, trying to process it. Trying to understand how fate could be so cruel to a little boy and a man who had only ever done good things. ‘That’s just so…awful. I can’t believe it.’ She shook her head to clear it, searching his espresso depths, waiting for him to tell her it was all a bad joke. ‘I just can’t…take it in.’
Valentino nodded. ‘Yes.’ What else could he say?
Paige wasn’t sure how long she stood there, staring at him, trying to clear the block of confusion in her mind. But she suddenly became aware of the slow, lazy circling of his fingers against her upper arms and the clean, male smell of him. When the temptation to lay her cheek against the V of his scrub top came upon her she knew she had to step back.
Valentino released her and watched as she retreated to the nearby bench and leaned against it. ‘I’ll be covering Harry’s patients until he’s ready to return.’
It was then that the full impact of this incident hit home. McKenzie. She glanced at him sharply as her heart thudded like a rock band in her chest.
No. No, no, no.
Why? What had she done, what had McKenzie done to deserve such upheaval? The surgery had been delayed too many times already. So many things had gone wrong in her short life. The one constant had been Harry and his absolute faith that he could give McKenzie the gift of hearing that prematurity had robbed her of.
And now that was in jeopardy too. ‘My daughter’s surgery is on Monday.’
Valentino nodded. ‘Yes. Harry mentioned that.’ In fact, Harry Abbott had gone to great pains to explain to him that Paige would be understandably concerned and probably not all that happy.
Paige felt awful. She wanted to scream and rant and cry. For Harry as well as herself. Disgust built inside her too. How could she even be thinking of herself, of McKenzie, when little Ben was critically ill?
‘It’s okay. I’ll do her surgery.’
Paige glanced at him sharply as a tense ‘No’ fell from her lips.
Val’s jaw tightened. ‘You don’t think I’m a good surgeon?’
Paige had the urge to laugh hysterically. This was a truly bizarre conversation. She was having trouble keeping up. ‘How do I know, Valentino? I don’t know the first thing about you.’
Valentino raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? I have one night that says differently.’
Paige slashed her hand through the air, rage bubbling inside that he would make an innuendo at such a time. ‘You know I meant—professionally,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t ever, ever, talk about that night again. Okay?’ she demanded. ‘Just don’t.’
Valentino had every intention of talking about it again. In fact, standing before her, his loins stirring at the memory of them, he had every intention of doing it again. But he could see she was close to the edge and that night, for now, was better off left in the past. He put his hands up in front to calm her.
‘I am a world-class cochlear surgeon. I’m head of the department in a large London hospital. I chair an international cochlear implant committee. I have performed this operation countless times on both children and adults. And…’ he placed his hands on his hips ‘…I am a damn good surgeon.’
Paige shook her head, his arrogant stance and impressive credentials falling on deaf ears. He didn’t get it. He just didn’t get it. This was McKenzie.
McKenzie.
Her child. Did he think she would allow a total stranger to cut into her? Drill a hole in her head? Did he think that was an easy thing for her to consent to? Never mind allowing someone she didn’t know to do it?
Still, she was torn. McKenzie needed the operation and if they delayed now, who knew how much longer it might be? Her heart broke, thinking about yet another delay for her beautiful baby girl locked into a world of silence. ‘I’ll wait. I’ll cancel and wait for Harry to return.’
Valentino flinched inwardly, surprised that her rejection of his skills would feel so personal. He gave a stiff bow. ‘Of course, that is your prerogative.’
Paige nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘It could be a long time,’ Valentino murmured. ‘Harry was talking about months, maybe a year if Ben needs extensive rehab.’
The thought of McKenzie waiting that much longer was like an ice pick to her heart. She wanted to weep and wail and beat her chest. She shrugged instead, struggling for nonchalance, the effort nearly killing her. They’d waited this long…
Valentino could see the abject disillusion written all over her face and shimmering in her big grey eyes. ‘Why don’t you hold off making a decision until after today? Watch me in action. Then tell me you don’t want me to operate on your daughter.’
Paige couldn’t believe he would think it was quite that simple. ‘It’s not just about that, Valentino,’ she snapped. How were they supposed to have any kind of doctor/mother-of-patient relationship with their one-night-stand between them?
God, why had she been so impulsive two months ago? She was never impulsive!
Valentino regarded Paige, her implication clear. ‘I will treat McKenzie like any other child who is a patient of mine.’
‘And me?’
Valentino shrugged. ‘Like any other mother.’ Liar. He stood still, waiting for the thunderbolt.
‘Oh? How many of the other mothers have you slept with?’
Valentino gave a grudging smile. ‘I thought we weren’t talking about that?’
Paige sighed, too weary and plain heartsick to respond properly. ‘No. We’re not.’ She glanced at him, the epitome of cool, calm and collected, while she felt all at sea. There was still so much she couldn’t wrap her head around. ‘I don’t understand how you’re even here, now…in the country.’
‘Harry interviewed me months ago. He’s thinking of retiring—’
‘Retiring!’ Paige spluttered. ‘He never mentioned retiring to me!’
‘He’s sixty-eight years old,’ Valentino calmly pointed out.
‘Yes, but…’ Harry talked to her about everything. And he still had so much to give, to contribute.
‘I’ve wanted to work in Australia for a while now,’ Valentino continued, his gaze on the little frown nestled between her caramel brows. ‘I think there are things I can learn here to take back home with me. I have my visa, all I need is the right job. I was attending a symposium in Melbourne—’
‘“Bionic Ear in the Twenty-First Century?”’ Paige enquired absently, not really caring. Harry had given a paper at it two days before.
Valentino nodded. ‘Harry contacted me in the early hours of the morning and asked me to fill in. I got the five a.m. flight out of Melbourne.’
‘Oh.’ So they’d be working together too. This wasn’t how it was supposed to pan out. None of it was. But, then, when had her life gone according to plan over the last three years? Bitterness rose like bile in her throat. Wasn’t it her turn to catch a break?
Valentino pushed off the bench opposite, which he’d propped himself against, and took three paces until he was standing in front of her. ‘Watch me today, Paige,’ he murmured. ‘Then w
e’ll talk.’
Paige felt his husky tones wash over her, soothing the burn and the knot of worry that sat like an iron fist deep in her gut.
And before she could refute him, rebuff him again, he turned away and she watched as he exited the anaesthetic room.
So much for feeling positive. How could her day have gone to hell so early?
It took about ten minutes into the first surgery to convince Paige of Valentino’s capabilities. He was, indeed, an extremely good surgeon. Efficient, steady, sure and capable. Methodical in his approach, supremely knowledgeable, unfailingly polite and, despite the mask and being covered head to toe in green, devilishly charismatic.
There wasn’t one nurse he didn’t flirt with, including Di Hamilton, who’d been married for thirty-five years and had twelve grandchildren. It was obvious he adored women and Paige watched as every female fell under his spell.
But he was a man’s man too. From the nervous surgical resident who was assisting to the orderly adjusting the theatre light, he won them all over, talking football and Australian beers and the price of petrol.
They all loved him. Paige wished she could say the same. Between concentrating on her job, the thoughts circling in her head at a thousand miles an hour and the cataclysmic brush of his arm or fingers as she passed him an instrument, she was totally over him by the end of the day.
Every breath, every move, every chuckle or low request for something stroked along her pelvic floor and took her right back to that night. Being under him. The way he’d felt inside her. Which only agitated her even more. She had bigger things to worry about. Like poor Harry and his grandson. And McKenzie.
It was like she was in a bubble with him, just the two of them, everyone else fading into insignificance. She knew that was the way it often was between surgeon and scrub nurse, requiring a special kind of synchronicity. But it was more than that and she knew it. She’d anticipated Harry’s every move in Theatre for the last two years but had never felt this more base reaction.
She just wanted out. To get as far away from St Auburn’s and Valentino Lombardi as possible. To hug McKenzie and remember what was real in her life and what was fantasy.