one did during the op might not work perfectly as it heals. We give dopamine as well, to keep it beating.’
Alex saw Annie nod at his explanation but her eyes remained on the screen as she watched the final stages of the operation. She lifted her hands to untie her mask, undoing the top strings and letting it dangle, revealing a slight smile hovering on her pale, curved lips.
‘You must have done so many, to be so sure in all your actions.’
The words, and possibly the smile, were meant for him, but her eyes, and, he thought, her attention were still on the screen.
‘What now?’
‘For Baby Ross?’ Alex said, coming closer so he could check the tubes and wires were all positioned as he liked them. ‘He’ll go back to the PICU on the respirator, and we’ll see how he is when he wakes up tomorrow. Sometimes babies are strong enough to breathe on their own after twenty-four hours, but this little chap was so young, we’ll just have to wait and see.’
He paused then touched her lightly on the shoulder.
‘Good to have the first one over?’
‘I was thinking that myself,’ she said, ‘though it seems unfair to be pleased about something when that little fellow has been through so much—and will go through more before he can be discharged.’
‘We should always be pleased when things go right,’ Alex told her. ‘Things go wrong all too often, so it’s right to rejoice in successes.’
She studied him for a moment, then nodded and smiled.
‘OK, I’ll rejoice without the guilt,’ she said, and walked out of the theatre.
Alex followed, pausing at a cupboard outside the theatre to pack his loupe into its special wooden case, then he did the same with the fibre-optic light. Tools of his trade, he thought, as he often did. More important for the delicate and intricate work he did than the needles and thread. Well, maybe not more important, but as important. Weird conversation to be having with himself, but a successful operation invariably left everyone on a high, and his high, since he’d lifted Annie off the stool—felt his fingers span her tiny waistline—seemed to be taking off in an unexpectedly sexual direction, so it was better to think about loupes and lights.
At least she’d walked away now, so his physical awareness of her had lessened.
Was it because she reminded him of the ghost that he felt this?
Because she might be the woman who’d featured, on and off, in his dreams for the last five years?
He shook the thoughts away.
It wasn’t that he was against involvement with work colleagues, although personally he did his best to avoid it, but Annie gave off vibes that would put off any but the most determined of suitors. There wasn’t much of her—above medium height but slim, almost willowy, yet she generated an enormous amount of ‘don’t mess with me’ attitude. Even Phil had backed off his usual flirtatious approach.
Though knowing Phil, he was probably planning to come at her from a different angle. Alex caught his finger in the catch on the box and cursed softly. At least he told himself it was the catch that had made him swear.
Why Phil felt that every pretty woman he met presented him with a challenge, Alex didn’t know. Though to be fair to Phil, he usually went for blondes so maybe Annie would be safe from his attentions.
She’d better be, he grumbled to himself as he changed, but the possibility that Phil might consider a darker-haired woman as fair game rumbled within him as he made his way to the office.
Annie looked up from some paperwork as he walked in.
‘I saw Baby Ross’s parents on my way here,’ she said, ‘and told them everything had gone well. I said you’d probably see them in the special care unit later. Coffee and sandwiches should be here any minute.’
Alex’s scraggly brows drew together in a frown.
Had she come on too strong? Made herself sound too businesslike?
Should she not have spoken to the Rosses?
She was about to apologise when the frown cleared and he smiled. At least, she thought it was a smile. It wasn’t exactly radiating warmth and sunshine, but it stretched his lips and even pressed the hint of a dimple into his left cheek. Something she hadn’t noticed before.
‘I’m sorry, I was still thinking about the procedure.’
His excuse sounded lame, but Annie could hardly accuse him of lying to her about his frown. As if it mattered, she scolded herself crossly, watching him settle his rangy frame into the comfortable chair on the other side of her desk, then reach for the sheaf of mail she had waiting for him.
But somewhere deep inside her was a niggling feeling that it did matter. She could tell herself it was because this new work relationship was the most important one in her career thus far. That this was her dream job, and she wanted to get it right from the very beginning. But she didn’t think she’d believe it…
An aide came in with a tray holding a big pot of coffee—Annie was getting used to Alex’s coffee addiction now—two mugs and a plate of sandwiches. She lifted the plastic wrap off the sandwiches and pushed the plate towards him, then poured his coffee, glad to have something to do while her mind teased at the niggle she was feeling.
OK, so there were some small hitches. The long shadow thrown from the past for a start, but if she kept denying they’d met before—not that he’d ever mentioned it again—surely they’d get past that.
And then her attraction to him—she’d get past that as well.
And as long as she was here and Dennis was in the US, then any tenuous link between him and Alex wouldn’t matter.
Maybe—eventually—when Alex went back to the States, it would be different. Maybe then there’d be some danger. Maybe, just before he left, she’d have to tell the truth…
Satisfied with this decision, she reached out for a sandwich, mistiming the movement so her hand brushed his. He looked up from the letter he was perusing, the movement so quick she knew he’d felt the same jolt she’d experienced. More electrical than sexual, like a mild shock.
‘Dry air?’ His eyebrows lifted and his lips half smiled as he asked the question, but Annie, mesmerised by that half-smile, couldn’t answer. She looked away, while heat again surged into her cheeks.
‘It must be,’ she said, released from the spell and using her hands to hide her colour. Then, after checking his hands were nowhere near the sandwiches, she reached out again.
Alex tried to concentrate on the letter he was reading, but knew he’d have to read it again later. In another room. Away from Annie and the strange effect she was having on him.
He glanced at her, head bent as she ate her sandwich, pretending to be reading the file in front of her. He knew she was pretending, because he was as well. Silky dark hair fell forward on either side of her face so all he saw was the curve of her cheek, pale as cream, enhanced rather than marred by that light scattering of freckles bridging her neat, straight nose.
A slim, neat, self-contained person, he guessed, but super-efficient, according to Col Bennett, the CEO.
He remembered the way his hands had almost spanned her waist and the feeling of lightness as he’d lifted her off the stool. Remembered the same feeling of lightness as he’d danced with his ghost. Was he still in post-op euphoria that he couldn’t concentrate on business matters? That he was distracted by this woman?
Post-op euphoria was common, although, generally speaking, he didn’t get it after a straightforward operation like Baby Ross’s. Different hospital, new theatre—either could explain it. But did the euphoria usually take the form of distraction?
Not women-type distraction, he was sure.
In fact, a lot of his