The Pregnant Surgeon

She turned to him again, struggling to keep her tone as neutral as possible. ‘I’ll see you in my office as soon as you’ve changed, Dr Archer.’

He didn’t say anything this time although whether it was because he had decided to heed her advice, she wasn’t sure. Joanna hurried to the women’s changing room and quickly showered then dressed again. She checked her watch as she opened the door and sighed when she saw that she was already way behind schedule. She’d hoped to get an early start on the day’s list but it would have to wait until she’d cleared up this misunderstanding. From what she had seen so far, Dr Archer appeared to be perfectly competent at his job, but she needed to be sure that he wasn’t going to disrupt the workings of the whole team.

Joanna went back to her office and told Lisa to send Dr Archer in as soon as he arrived. She sat down at her desk, wanting to look suitably composed when he appeared. She frowned because she’d never had any difficulty taking charge of her staff before so why did it seem so important all of a sudden that she make the right impression?

She got up again and went to the mirror, tucking a loose strand of honey-gold hair into the heavy coil at the nape of her neck then running a finger over her eyebrows to smooth the tiny golden hairs into place. She never wore make-up when she would be operating and with her fair complexion tended to look rather washed-out in consequence. Maybe a holiday in the sun this year would give her a bit of much-needed colour?

‘Lisa said to come straight in. I hope that’s all right?’

Joanna swung round at the sound of that familiar, deep voice. She was a little embarrassed at being caught staring into the mirror but less so than she might have been if she hadn’t had a more pressing concern to deal with. Bearing in mind that she’d spoken to Dylan Archer no more than half a dozen times to date, how had the timbre of his voice managed to imprint itself so clearly on her memory?

Frankly, Joanna had no idea how to explain such a strange phenomenon so decided to ignore it and concentrate instead on the reason why she’d asked Dr Archer to come to her office. She sat down behind her desk once more and waved him towards a chair.

‘Please, sit down, Dr Archer. I shall be brief because we have a lot to get through today. I would have preferred it if you had waited until I’d arrived before you operated on that patient. As I explained to you yesterday on the phone, every new member of this team goes through a period of supervision. That rule applies to everyone who works here and there are no exceptions.’

‘Then I can only apologise once again, Ms Martin. I assure you that I wasn’t trying to flout your rules even though it may have appeared that way.’

His tone was nothing less than polite so Joanna had no idea why it should have set her teeth on edge. It was an effort not to snap back with some sharp retort but she knew it would be a mistake to do that. She had to remain in control at all times when dealing with Dylan Archer. Something told her it was the only way to handle the situation.

‘I accept your apology, Dr Archer. Now that you’ve assured me it won’t happen again we’ll let the matter drop.’

‘I’m sorry but I’m afraid I can’t give you any such assurance, Ms Martin.’

Once again his tone was faultlessly polite. However, Joanna had heard the steely note it held and her brows rose steeply. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘If we are to avoid any future misunderstandings I think it’s only fair that I make my position clear, Ms Martin. Given the same set of circumstances, I would follow exactly the same course of action.’

His voice was even softer this time, soft and oddly dangerous-sounding. Joanna shivered when she heard the warning note it held. It was an effort to reply when she could feel the tremors working their way through her body.

‘Would you care to elaborate, Dr Archer?’

‘Certainly. If I had waited for you to arrive to supervise me then the patient could have died. I made my decision to go ahead and operate based on the experience I’ve gained over the last few years, and I believe it was the right decision, too.’ He shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling beneath his suit jacket. ‘Rules are all well and good, Ms Martin, but I will never endanger a patient’s life by blindly sticking to them. I’m a qualified surgeon, not a student, and I hope that you will pay me the courtesy of remembering that.’

Joanna was completely floored and had no idea what to say. She knew she would be within her rights to reprimand him for speaking to her like that, but she was also aware that she’d handled the situation very badly. Dylan Archer was a highly skilled surgeon, which was the reason she’d been so keen to have him on her team, and if she’d been in his shoes, most probably she would have done the same thing. The patient could have died if the operation had been delayed so how could she honestly object to what he’d done? Why should she even want to when the outcome had been so satisfactory?

Her breath caught because there was another question that needed answering, one which was suddenly more important than all the rest: was she really acting out of professional concern or because of the way Dylan Archer made her feel as a woman rather than a surgeon?

Dylan forced himself to appear relaxed but it wasn’t easy. He was used to making decisions and not having them questioned, yet Joanna Martin seemed set on treating him like the new kid on the block! He couldn’t help wondering if he’d made a mistake by accepting the job at St Leonard’s. He’d been happy enough in his last post, but he’d needed to broaden his experience, which was why he had applied for the job.

It was a well-known fact that Joanna Martin had worked wonders since she’d been appointed as head of surgery at St Leonard’s and Dylan had honestly believed he could learn a lot from working with her. However, he was rapidly having second thoughts. His life was going to be hell if she continually took him to task over everything he did.

Maybe she got a kick out of throwing her weight around, he mused, before he dismissed the idea. Quite frankly, she didn’t look any happier than he felt as she sat there behind her desk, her beautiful face set and her eyes so dark that he could see his own reflection in them.

Dylan’s stomach muscles suddenly knotted at the sheer intimacy of that thought and he sucked in a calming lungful of air, wishing that he’d thought everything through properly before he’d come charging up to her office. With the benefit of hindsight he could see now that he’d needed more time to get himself together before he had faced Joanna after that earlier revelation. Frankly, it was no wonder that everything was going pear-shaped. How, in the name of heaven, could he have known that he’d met the woman he was destined to fall in love with?

Frankly, it defied all logic, or at least the bit of logic he could still dredge up. All he could do now was to try and salvage something from this mess.

‘I’m sorry. I was way out of order for saying that, Ms Martin. I understand that you have a duty to the patients in this hospital and need to ensure that everyone receives the best possible care.’

‘I do, but equally I’m one of the people who interviewed you for this post, Dr Archer. If I’d had any concerns about your suitability I should have raised them then.’

She shrugged and Dylan felt a wave of tenderness wash over him when he saw how confused she looked. He wanted to reach across the desk and squeeze her hand, reassure her that he wasn’t offended—well, not now that she’d apologised, anyway—only he sensed it would be a mistake to do that. Joanna would just retreat back into her shell and then he’d have an even harder job eliciting a response from her.

Heat flashed through him when it struck him that the response he wanted from her wasn’t solely a professional one. Maybe he did want her to treat him as the skilled surgeon he knew himself to be, but it wasn’t his only attribute, as he would be happy to make clear. It was a relief when Joanna suddenly stood up because it effectively put an end to such crazy thoughts.

‘I think it’s time we got down to some work, don’t you? We have a full list this morning, mainly minor elective surgery, although there is one case which you should find interesting.’

She headed for the door then glanced back when he followed her. Dylan felt his heart lift when she suddenly smiled at him. ‘It should definitely give you a chance to show off your skills.’

‘Sounds intriguing.’

He followed her out of the room, trying to control the thundering of his heart as they walked to the stairs together. Just because Joanna had smiled at him, it wasn’t any reason to get too excited, he admonished himself, but sadly the advice seemed to fall on deaf ears. It was difficult to concentrate as she outlined the case for his benefit but he didn’t intend to give her any reason to fault his work. He was good at what he did and he was going to prove it to her and the rest of the team!

‘The patient’s name is Ada Harper and she is one hundred years old. She’s remarkably fit for her age which is the reason why we have agreed to operate on her. According to our colleagues in the cardiovascular department, Ada has the heart and lungs of a fifty-year-old.’

‘Amazing!’ Dylan laughed as he pushed open the swing doors so that Joanna could pass through them ahead of him. He inhaled deeply when he caught the fragrance of her perfume as she passed him. His whole body began to tingle before he ruthlessly forced his mind back to work, but it was alarming to realise just how responsive he was to this woman. He’d had more than his share of girlfriends over the years but he couldn’t recall a single one of them having the effect on him that Joanna seemed to have.

‘Amazing is the right word.’ Joanna waited for him to catch up before continuing. ‘Ada is a wonderful old lady, full of fun and brimming with energy. She would put many people half her age to shame, in fact. Unfortunately, she has a hiatus hernia which has been making her life a misery of late. The muscle at the junction between the oesophagus and the stomach has been badly affected and she’s been suffering from severe reflux of the stomach’s contents.’

‘Nasty,’ Dylan observed sympathetically. ‘Has it just caused severe heartburn or has there been oesophagitis as well?’

‘The oesophagus has been badly inflamed for some time, plus there are increasing periods when Ada can’t eat at all because the muscles have gone into spasm,’ Joanna explained. ‘Her GP tried all the usual remedies—a bland diet, eating several small meals each day instead of large ones—but the situation has got steadily worse. The GP referred Ada to a specialist at her local hospital and he agreed that the best treatment would be an operation to repair the hiatus hernia, but he refused to put her on his list, which is why she has ended up here.’

‘That’s rather unusual, isn’t it?’ he queried. ‘If her local hospital refused to operate why did you agree to treat her?’

‘Because one of the things I feel most strongly about is that age shouldn’t prevent a person from receiving treatment. Ada is remarkably healthy apart from this problem and it isn’t fair that her quality of life should be ruined because she’s considered too old by some surgeons to undergo an operation.’

‘I agree. It’s one of the things that really angers me, too. If a person will benefit from surgery then it should be available to them.’ He sighed because he’d had an uphill struggle in his last post, putting across that view. ‘I’m afraid it usually comes down to economics. Many surgeons refuse to, quote, “waste good money operating on someone who won’t live long enough to appreciate it”.’

‘Exactly! It’s an attitude I abhor. Every case should be decided on its own merits and age should never be the deciding factor,’ she agreed, smiling at him.

‘Seems we’re in accord on that, at least,’ he said softly, his heart going into raptures when he saw the approval in her beautiful grey eyes.

‘So it appears.’ She briskly turned and hurried towards the female changing room but not before Dylan had seen the wash of soft rose colour that had tinted her cheeks. ‘I’ll see you in Theatre, Dr Archer,’ she told him, without looking back.

‘Of course.’

Dylan took a deep breath as the changing-room door shut behind her then let it out very, very slowly. It didn’t help but, then, he hadn’t honestly expected that it would. It would take more than a deep breath to cure this affliction.

He went into the men’s changing room and stripped off his clothes then slid on a cotton scrub suit. The cotton felt cool against his skin, cool and soft, and he groaned because it made him think about Joanna and how her skin would feel. It would be cool and soft as well but, unlike the cotton, it would also be velvety smooth.

How he longed to touch her, ached to let his fingers explore her body, and the sheer depth of his desire shocked him because it was way out of proportion to the stage they were at in their relationship. They were two new—very new—colleagues, finding their feet as they worked together, and yet here he was lusting after her like a lover! What the hell was wrong with him? Was he having some kind of a mid-life crisis? Was it possible to have one at his age or did age make absolutely no difference in this situation as it shouldn’t in so many others? He wanted Joanna Martin. He wanted her more than he’d believed it possible to want a woman, and it would have made no difference if he’d been ninety-five instead of thirty-five because he’d still have felt the same!

There, he’d admitted it, and it didn’t make him feel any better. In fact, it made him feel like a total idiot. Joanna wasn’t the least bit interested in him. He’d bet his last pound that she wasn’t standing in the other changing room, lusting after him.

The thought brought him down to earth with a thump. Maybe he did want Joanna but he wouldn’t do himself any favours by letting her know that.

Joanna slid her feet into a pair of backless Theatre clogs then went through to the scrub room. They were using Theatre three again and Lucy Porter was already in there, getting scrubbed up. She grinned when Joanna appeared.

‘Hi! I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you. Problems with the new guy, by any chance? I had a feeling earlier that things might be getting a little tense between you two.’

‘No, everything’s fine. I just needed a word with Dr Archer, that’s all. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’

Joanna went to the sink and quickly turned on the taps. Scooping a handful of antiseptic soap from the dispenser, she started lathering her arms. She felt rather uncomfortable about being asked a question like that. Normally, Lucy just wished her good day then carried on with what she was doing. She couldn’t recall the theatre sister passing a remark of a personal nature before and found herself wondering what had caused her to do so that day.

‘No problem,’ Lucy replied cheerfully, breaking open a sterile towel to dry her hands. ‘It gave us time to have a cuppa before we set to again. With Dylan bringing up that emergency, we didn’t get much chance to ease into the day. Poor old Tom looked very peaky from having to forgo his morning infusion of caffeine!’

‘Then it all worked out for the best, didn’t it?’ Joanna replied rather lamely.

She took a nailbrush off the shelf and set to work with gusto, wondering why she was so uncomfortable about making conversation. She’d worked with Lucy for several years now yet this was the most they’d ever said to one another. Their previous conversations had been confined to work but, then, most conversations she had nowadays were work-related. When was the last time she’d exchanged a bit of idle gossip with anyone? It was faintly alarming to realise that she couldn’t remember.

‘Aha, so you’ve drawn the short straw and got the new guy again, Lucy.’ Dylan came into the scrub room and Joanna swung round when she heard his voice. Just for a moment her gaze rested on his powerful frame before she hurriedly resumed what she’d been doing, but it was already too late because the sight of him had imprinted itself in her mind by then. The gushing water and frothing soap-suds suddenly blurred as his image swam before her eyes, and she gulped. That scrub suit had clung to every powerful line of his body, highlighting muscles that looked far too fit for someone who spent his working life bent over an operating table!

The picture sharpened and she had to draw in a ragged breath when a wave of dizziness assailed her. Were Dylan’s legs really that long or was it just a trick of her imagination? And his shoulders—could they possibly be that broad without the benefit of padding? She knew she shouldn’t look at him again but the urge to satisfy her curiosity was too strong to resist.

She glanced round, deliberately letting her gaze rest on his broad back because it seemed vital that she should answer those questions. He was reading through the patient’s notes so she had ample time to take stock without him noticing and didn’t waste a second as she began mentally listing his attributes. Well-shaped head, strong neck, broad shoulders, neat waist…

Her gaze suddenly came to his bottom and to her dismay refused to move on. She tried to make her eyes obey her but to no avail. Joanna bit her lip. There was something decidedly sinful about the idea of standing there, ogling Dylan Archer’s taut derrière so perfectly displayed by the thin scrub-suit trousers.

He suddenly looked round and Joanna flushed when he caught her staring at him. A slow grin spread across his face and she had to bite back her groan of dismay. She had never felt so embarrassed in her life and there was absolutely nothing she could do to salvage her pride.

‘Don’t worry, Joanna. I know exactly what you’re thinking.’

‘You do?’ she squeaked, her vocal cords knotting in mortification.

‘Yes. And I promise you that I’m going to stick strictly to the rules from now on.’ He waggled the folder of notes at her. ‘I understand that you need to supervise me and it isn’t a problem. Really. I can tell you’re worried about how I’ll react but there’s no need.’

He suddenly frowned, his black brows drawing together over those gorgeous emerald green eyes. ‘That is what’s bothering you? You’re worried that I’ll take offence but I promise you that I don’t mind if you spend the day peering over my shoulder.’

Maybe he didn’t mind but she did!

All of a sudden Joanna knew that the last thing she needed was to spend the day monitoring what Dylan was doing. She could just imagine how stressful it would be to have to stand behind him in Theatre, staring at…

‘No!’ She cut off that train of thought because she didn’t dare let it reach its natural conclusion. She had to stop thinking about Dylan’s bottom!

‘No?’

‘No.’ She heard the bewilderment in his voice and hurried on. She couldn’t afford to let this situation get out of hand. She had to remember that she was forty-two years old and that getting involved with a junior colleague would be professional suicide. Maybe men could bend the rules to suit themselves but she couldn’t take such a risk. She refused to let herself become the butt of a lot of puerile jokes and damaging gossip.

‘I won’t be monitoring your work, Dr Archer, because there is no need. I saw enough this morning to know that you are more than capable of working on your own.’

She elbowed the taps off and took the towel Lucy offered her, deliberately ignoring the shock on the other woman’s face. Maybe it was unheard of her to compromise but sometimes a situation demanded a more flexible approach. Tossing the towel into the basket, she slid her hands into the latex gloves that Lucy offered her before glancing at Dylan again.

‘We shall split the list between us. I’ll be working in Theatre two if you need me.’

She briskly headed for the door and didn’t pause when Dylan said softly behind her, ‘Thank you.’

Joanna didn’t reply because she didn’t want to make an issue out of her decision. She went straight to Theatre two and informed the staff that she would be operating in there that morning while Dr Archer, the new senior registrar, was working in Theatre three. The announcement caused a bit of a stir but she told herself that it was because they hadn’t been expecting her and had nothing to do with the fact that she had seen fit to bend the rules for a newcomer.

Fortunately, everyone soon settled down and within a few minutes her first patient was being wheeled in. Joanna had a brief word with the young woman who’d been admitted for surgery on her hand. She was suffering from Dupuytren’s contracture—a condition whereby tissues beneath the palm of the hand thickened and shortened, causing difficulty in straightening the fingers. Joanna planned to cut and separate the bands of tissue to free the woman’s fingers. It was an operation she had performed before successfully so she assured the patient that everything would be fine then moved aside while the anaesthetist got on with his job.

It was a scene she’d witnessed too many times to count but all of a sudden it felt as though she was seeing it afresh. Her vision seemed sharper than it had been before, her hearing more acute, and she couldn’t understand what had changed until it struck her that it was Dylan Archer’s arrival which had made the difference. The scene she was witnessing seemed far more vivid than normal because of his presence, and the realisation scared her.

Her life had been going according to plan and she didn’t want anything to change, but she might not be able to stop it. Dylan Archer’s advent into her life had added a new dimension to the equation and, whether she liked the idea or not, she might not be able to get things back to how they had been before.

CHAPTER THREE

‘GOOD work!’

Dylan smiled when Tom Barnes clapped him on the back as he came into the changing room. They had just finished their last operation for the day—the one to repair Ada Harper’s hiatus hernia—and he knew that Tom was as pleased as he was that it had gone so well. Ada was now in Recovery and would be transferred to the surgical ward as soon as she came round from the aneasthetic. However, Dylan wasn’t anticipating any problems.

‘Thanks, but you should give yourself a pat on the back as well. Anaesthetising a patient of that age is no mean feat, buddy!’

‘I know.’ Tom’s face split into a wide grin as he stripped off his Theatre greens and tossed them into the laundry hamper. ‘I did one heck of a job in there, too, didn’t I?’

Dylan gave a bark of laughter at such unashamed lack of modesty. ‘You certainly did. It’s no wonder Joanna overlooks your dodgy dress sense if that’s any indication of your expertise.’

‘What do you mean, “dodgy dress sense”?’ Tom tried—and failed—to look suitably offended as he took his T-shirt off a peg and inspected it. ‘This is the real McCoy, I’ll have you know. A genuine, bona fide surfer’s shirt, only given to those brave souls who’ve ridden the Big One.’

‘The Big One, as in Hawaii?’ Dylan whistled. ‘Then I stand in awe of your surfing talents as well as your anaesthetising skills. No wonder you’re the star of Joanna’s team.’

‘Thank you kindly. It’s nice to be appreciated although I might need to look to my laurels now you’ve joined us.’ Tom dragged a towel out of his locker and flung it over his shoulder as they headed for the showers.

‘What do you mean?’ Dylan paused and looked at the other man in surprise.

‘That my undoubted talents might not be enough to keep me in pole position as our revered boss’s star performer.’ Tom grinned as he reached a long arm into the cubicle and turned on the water. ‘The lovely Joanna obviously has a soft spot for you.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Dylan denied, stepping into the cubicle and hurriedly turning on the jets. The water was icy cold and he gasped when it hit him. Shivering, he quickly adjusted the temperature then looked up when Tom’s voice came from the neighbouring stall.