by Amy Ruttan
Her father had been less than thrilled to find that she’d walked down the street to the local pub and had had something to eat there.
What am I doing here?
She tried to tell herself that she was getting to know her estranged father, taking the opportunity of a lifetime of inheriting a lucrative practice in Harley Street, but she wasn’t sure that was it.
There was a buzz on the intercom, snapping Geri out of her reverie. She got up and pushed the button.
“Dr. Collins, I’m surprised to see you up there,” Thomas said, not looking up at her.
“Well, Lord Twinsbury did mention that he wanted me close by.”
Thomas glanced up and there was a twinkle in his eyes. “So he did. Why don’t you scrub in and come down here? You can keep me company.”
“I thought since I wasn’t a surgeon my place wasn’t in the operating theater.”
He chuckled. “So I did, but I think this once I can make an exception for my new partner. Will you come down?”
“I’ll be right there.” Geri let go of the buzzer and made her way down to the change room, where she found some scrubs. A nurse led her to the scrub room, where she scrubbed down and then entered the operating theater. She kept a discreet distance so she didn’t contaminate the sterile field. She’d missed being in the operating theater. It had been so long.
“I wanted to apologize, Mr. Ashwood,” she said.
“Whatever for?” he asked absently, in that haughty way that drove her insane.
“I think you know.”
He shook his head. “No apology needed. I might’ve been too harsh on you. You’re allowed to have an opinion.”
Geraldine was shocked. Frederick would’ve never admitted that to another surgeon or doctor.
“I really think—”
“No. It’s done. More suction, please.” Thomas didn’t look at her as he continued the surgery. “Lord Twinsbury is a friend of my father’s. I’ve known him for quite some time. I get a little overprotective of him.”
“I see. Is your father friends with my father?”
Thomas smiled behind his mask, she could tell by the way his eyes crinkled. “No, in fact they were nemesis...or is that nemeses?”
Geri chuckled. “Rivals?”
“In some respects,” Thomas said. “Although my father was not in the medical profession. I believe they were both rapscallions in their youth. Playing the field and going after the same women.”
Geri’s stomach twisted in a knot and she had a hard time picturing her father as a rapscallion. “Is that a fact?”
“Yes. I was surprised when your father brought me on when I completed my surgical residency. He had the most prestigious cardiology practice in Harley Street and I was willing to give my eyeteeth to work with him. I had to convince him that taking on a surgeon was a good business decision.”
That was more believable. In the short time she’d known her father she’d gathered he wasn’t one to take chances.
“Well, you seemed to have won him over.”
“He never told me about you, though, not until a couple of months ago when he said you were joining us.” This time he looked up from the surgery to fix her with those dark eyes that seemed to see past her facade into her very soul.
“My father and I don’t have the best relationship. Or at least we didn’t. I’m hoping to rectify that now.” She hoped he didn’t know she was lying through her teeth and under his hard stare she felt a bit uncomfortable.
“You’re not even listed in Debrett’s.”
“Should I be?” Geri asked, hoping her voice didn’t rise with her nervousness.
“Your parents were legally married.”
“Briefly. I believe the divorce was finalized just after I was born. My mother left before she knew she was pregnant with me.”
“So you should be in Debrett’s, given that your father has a seat in the House of Lords.”
“You seem to know a lot about me.”
“I know nothing about you and that’s the problem.” He held out a hand while a scrub nurse passed him an instrument. “You’re a complete mystery.”
“Why are you even looking me up in Debrett’s? What does it matter if I’m listed in there? It’s a pretty useless publication, if you ask me.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself, as if that would hide the fact that she was the estranged daughter of an aristocrat.
She’d read this story a million times in the romance novels she cherished. Only those novels were fiction and fantasy. This was real life.
And she was a doctor, a darned good doctor who was specializing in cardiology, and she had no interest, at the moment, in anything beyond medicine and helping her patients.
“It is that,” Thomas agreed. “I mean, who needs to know who is thirty-seventh in line to the throne?”
“Exactly. I don’t know and I really don’t care.”
“So what do you care about?” he asked.
“Medicine. It’s all I care about.”
He chuckled and shook his head. “You should’ve been a surgeon.”
“And why is that?”
“You’re cold. Detached. Vicious.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.
“I meant it as one,” Thomas said. “But surely you have some interest beyond medicine. Reading, travelling...crochet?”
“Crochet?” she asked, trying not to laugh at the absurdity.
“It’s good for the hands. Keeps the fingers strong and the mind sharp.”
“Do you crochet, then?”
“Good lord, no.”
“Then who told you that crocheting keeps the fingers strong and the mind sharp?”
“My grandmother, but then again she was a bit batty.”
Geri couldn’t help but smile. “So what do you do, then?”
“I paint.”
Now she was intrigued. “What do you paint?”
“Nudes mostly.” And he waggled his eyebrows at her over his surgical mask. She couldn’t help but laugh along with the others in the room.
Frederick would never joke like this.
It was beneath him and Geri found herself liking this laid-back camaraderie. There was a light in the darkness of a serious surgery.
“I read a study once that said patients, although under general anesthesia, are aware of what is going on around them. Subconsciously. Better outcomes when the surgeon is happy.”
Thomas stared at her and she regretted opening her mouth. Was he going to berate her again?
“I heard that too. And I believe it.” He returned to his work and Geri watched him. Thomas was just as impressive as she’d always thought he would be.
Thomas laid down his instruments. “Dr. Fellowes, would you close up for me?”
“Yes, Mr. Ashwood.” Dr. Fellowes stepped into the lead surgeon spot and began to close up the patient.
Thomas moved past her to the scrub room and Geraldine followed him as he peeled off his gloves, mask and surgical gown, placing them in the receptacle, before he began to scrub his hands.
Geraldine did the same.
“That was textbook surgery, if I do say so myself.” There was a smug, satisfied smile plastered across Thomas’s face.
“I’m glad it went so well.”
“Well, the surgery went well. The next twenty-four hours will tell me the entire picture.” Thomas dried his hands. “It’s still touch and go. Recovery will be the key to success or failure.”
“Will I see you tomorrow at the office?” Geri asked.
“No,” he said. “I plan to stay close to Lord Twinsbury tonight. I will be monitoring him in the intensive care unit.”
“Is it because he’s a family friend or do you do th
at for all your patients?” She was teasing, she didn’t really expect such a high-class surgeon to remain by his patient’s bedside. Especially an elderly one like Lord Twinsbury, who, given his health, probably wouldn’t have much of a shot of pulling through.
“All of them. Every last one.”
She was stunned and was positive her mouth was hanging open by the way he grinned at her.
“Have a good evening, Dr. Collins.”
Geri watched him walk down the hall. She shook her head. Every time she tried to fit Mr. Ashwood into a certain slot in her mind, he completely and utterly didn’t fit.
And just as she’d surmised before, he was a danger.
A very sexy, tempting danger that she wanted no part of.
* * *
“You took the tube again didn’t you?”
Geri hung up her coat on the coatrack in her father’s office. “Well, you didn’t wake me when Jensen took you to work.”
“You got in late. I thought you’d appreciate the lie-in.”
She had actually. “Yes, but today is clinic day. How am I supposed to get to know my new patients if I spend half the morning in bed?”
“Why didn’t you call Jensen to bring you in?” her father asked. He sounded tense, as if he’d been worrying about her the whole time. Which was nice, but unwarranted. She was an adult.
“The Westway is jam-packed or didn’t you hear about that?” she asked.
“Jensen could’ve taken the Bayswater Road. The Westway is always jam-packed at this time of day.”
“I’m quite used to taking public transportation.”
“I know, Geraldine, but your situation is different now.” He returned to his work.
She took a seat in front of her father. “And how is it different? I still am the same person and no one knows me from Adam.”
“You’re a lady of means. An heiress,” he said, not looking up.
Geri wrinkled her nose. “I’m a doctor.”
Her father ran a hand through his hair and then sighed. “You’re just as stubborn as your mother.”
Geri shrugged. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” Though she really didn’t think it was much of a compliment as she didn’t want much association or comparison with her mother.
“Hmm.” Her father then pulled out a cream-colored envelope and handed it to her. “You’ve been invited to your first social gathering.”
She took the envelope and stared at the fancy calligraphy. “What’s it for?”
“It’s for a party after the London International Horse Show. We’ve both been invited. It’s formal attire as the Duke of Weatherstone has been invited. You know he’s in the line of royal succession.”
Geri cocked her eyebrows and stared at the invitation. “How do I turn it down?”
“You can’t turn it down.”
“Why not?” she asked, flipping it over. “It’s for this weekend.”
“And what plans do you have for this weekend?”
She shrugged. “Christmas shopping.”
“You’re going. I’ve already told our hostess we’d be attending. Besides, it’s a good way to get to know some of our patients. A lot of them will be there.”
Before she could argue there was a knock at the door and Thomas stuck his head in. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he’d been up all night, but that didn’t deter from his general svelte and put-together appearance.
Good lord, he was handsome and a brilliant surgeon to boot.
Why did he have to look so good?
He’s off-limits. Off. Limits.
“Am I interrupting?” Thomas asked.
Yes.
“No, Thomas, come in,” Charles said.
Thomas opened the door and came in, jamming his hands in his finely tailored trouser pockets. “I wanted to report that Lord Twinsbury made it through the night.”
Her father nodded and smiled. “That’s excellent news.”
“Wonderful,” she said.
Thomas glanced at her briefly, his gaze landing on the cream-colored envelope. “Ah, I see the invitations for the Gileses’ party have arrived.”
“Yes, apparently the Duke of Weatherstone will be there,” Geri teased.
A strange look passed across his face. “Well, I can tell you who won’t be there—Lord Twinsbury. He’ll still be in hospital for another week at least. At least he’s out of the intensive care unit, but he’s demanding to see his cardiologist.”
Her father sighed. “I’ll get Jensen to bring the car round.”
“No, Charles. He wants the good-looking one.” Thomas grinned at her. “He’s asking for you, Dr. Collins.”
Her father chuckled. “You’d better go, Geraldine. And please take Jensen.”
“The Westway is completely jammed, though,” Thomas said. “She could always take the tube.”
Geraldine couldn’t help but laugh at that, especially when her father glared at Thomas. “Only if you accompany her.”
“Of course. I am a gentleman after all.”
“That remains to be seen,” her father mumbled.
Geraldine set down the invitation and grabbed her coat, heading out into the hallway with Thomas.
“So much for getting to know patients today.” Geraldine followed him down to his office, where he grabbed his own coat and wrapped a scarf around his neck.
“You are getting to know a patient by going to the hospital and attending Lord Twinsbury. By doing so you’re letting your other future patients know that you care.”
“He just had surgery, you should be the one attending to him. Not me. I’m not the surgeon.”
Which was a bitter pill to swallow.
“And I will be. I am accompanying you after all.” Thomas cocked a head to one side. “You’re not wearing a hat?”
“No, should I be?”
Thomas shrugged. “It’s cold outside.”
“I’m from Scotland. This is not cold for December. This is balmy,” she teased.
“Balmy?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Thomas just shook his head. “Come on, then, my lady, I’m to be your escort to the tube.”
Geri fell into step beside him and they walked down the street toward Regent’s Park Underground Station.
“You know, it’s been some time since I’ve taken public transport,” he said offhandedly.
“Don’t tell me you have a driver as well.”
“Good lord, no. I find it a particular challenge to wrestle my way along the motorways on my daily commute.”
“You’re an interesting character, Mr. Ashwood,” Geri remarked. “Wrestling motorways and painting people in the nude.”
“Oh, yes, which is why you should get to know me better,” he whispered huskily.
“Hmm, that remains to be seen.”
“You still never told me what interests you beyond medicine, Dr. Collins.”
“I do like reading.”
“I do hope it’s racy novels.”
“Naturally,” she teased, completely forgetting herself.
What’re you doing?
“Actually, I love Jane Austen.”
“Most ladies do. I prefer Chaucer myself and Icelandic skalds.”
“You’re a man of many hidden depths.”
“I could say the same about you, Dr. Collins. Except the man bit.”
“I think since we’re going to be partners you can call me Geri.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Geri? No, I think I’ll call you Geraldine.”
“Why? Only my father calls me Geraldine. No one else calls me Geraldine.”
“Except me. Now. Geraldine. I like the sound of it. It’s elegant.”
&nb
sp; “Hardly. I always hated the name.”
“You shouldn’t. It suits you.”
“So what do I call you?” she asked.
“You can call me Thomas.”
“Not Tom?” she teased.
“If you expect me to answer, no.”
“You’re so frustrating.” Geri walked ahead of him. “I don’t need an escort to the hospital.”
She was hoping that he would take the hint and head back to the practice, only he didn’t. He kept pace with her.
“Go back to the practice, Mr. Ashwood.”
“I’m hurt. What happened to using our given names?”
“You became pedantic and annoyed me,” Geri said, but a smile hovered on her lips. She was enjoying herself immensely. Which was a bad thing.
“I’ve been called many things, annoying especially, but never pedantic. That’s a new one.”
Geri couldn’t help but laugh as they headed down to the underground at Regent’s Park Station. When they were on the tube, crammed close together as they rode in silence, Thomas glanced down at her.
“Why don’t you like Geraldine? It’s a lovely name,” he asked.
A hot flush crept up her cheeks. No one had ever called her name lovely before. She’d always hated it. Men would usually call her Geri. Geraldine was an old-fashioned name.
“I thought I’d name you Geraldine after your father’s mother since that’s the only thing you’ll be getting from him.”
Of course, Geri had never met her namesake.
“It’s an old-fashioned name.” It was an excuse. She did like her name, but preferred to be called Geri. When she’d learned Geraldine was a connection to her long-absent father who had never come to rescue her, she’d wanted to cut that tie.
She’d learned the hard way that she could rescue herself.
He shrugged. “So is Thomas, but I quite like it. Geri makes you sound like a singer in an all-girl pop band.”
She laughed. “Well, I like Geri.”
“And I like Geraldine. You’ll see it my way soon enough and you’ll be begging me to say your name over and over.” His voice was deep, like thick honey. Honey, which she pictured smearing over his body and licking off.
