‘That would seem to be satisfactory.’ Reg nodded, apparently pleased that the rest of the surgeons would actually have half an hour each more than the upstart who wanted to try to teach them how to do their job.
‘I’m glad you approve,’ Razak said blandly, keeping to himself the thought that he was going to enjoy seeing that smug expression change once he had the new system up and running. ‘Now, I do not wish to seem abrupt, but I have a flight to catch in a little more than three hours and much more to do before I can leave for the airport.’
In actual fact, he had done nearly everything on his list, the most time-consuming being the personal phone call he’d made to each of the patients who’d been booked for their operations in the coming week.
Several of them had been understandably upset, even angry, to learn that their long-awaited surgery was being postponed at this late date. He’d deliberately told each one of them that, rather than it being the fault of the hospital, it was his own personal circumstances that were dictating the delay. He’d been quite touched by how understanding most people were when they heard about his father’s illness and he’d promised each of them that they would hear from him again to reschedule their operation as soon as he returned.
Now there was just one more visit that he wanted to make before he would feel easy in his mind, and that was to the men’s surgical ward.
‘Mr Bullen?’ he said softly when he arrived in the man’s room and found him with his eyes closed. They flickered once then opened.
‘Oh. It’s you,’ Simon rasped in a voice that still sounded raw as a result of the trauma to his throat.
‘I just came to see if you were all right. I’ll be away for a few days.’
‘Holiday? Exotic destination, I bet,’ he said, with an attempt at a sneer.
‘Exotic destination, yes, but it won’t be a holiday. My father’s collapsed and been taken into hospital for heart surgery,’ Razak said, wondering how on earth he was going to get through to this man. On the surface they had absolutely nothing in common but there was something about him that…
‘I’m sorry,’ Simon said quietly, and had the grace to look a little shamefaced. ‘Are you close?’
‘Yes and no.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Both he and my mother wanted me to…to go into the family business. I wanted to be a doctor. I don’t think they’re ever going to give up trying to change my mind.’
‘Wish I’d had your courage,’ Simon said suddenly, and just like that a connection had been forged between them. ‘I wanted to be a musician…apparently I was damn good, too. But I took over the family business because music’s not a job for a man who wants a wife and family…’ Tears welled in his bloodshot eyes. ‘So I end up with nothing. No music, no wife, no family, no business…’
Razak wordlessly pushed the box of tissues within reach of the man’s good arm and held it so that he could pull several out. He let the silence stretch out for a while before he spoke, unexpectedly knowing something of what the man must have been feeling when he’d resorted to such a drastic step.
‘So you know what it feels like to be backed into a corner with no way out,’ he mused softly. ‘And all you can think about is all the things you could have done if only…And then you feel so ungrateful because even though you want things to be different, there is so much that is good about your life. There’s your family, the roof over your head, a job that lets you put food on the table…’
‘But all the time you know that there’s something missing,’ his patient said with an edge of despair. ‘That your life’s not…not what it could have been.’
‘So, one day, everything changes…’ Razak hinted, hoping that it would keep him talking.
‘One day I realised that I was still backed into the same corner and all I had time to do was work. So my wife was bored with me and found a newer, richer model but still she wants half of everything that’s left…the house, the business…’
‘And you were so depressed that you didn’t realise that you’d been looking at everything the wrong way, focussing on the wrong things and not letting yourself look outside the box. So you didn’t even realise that she was giving you a second chance,’ Razak suggested, suddenly seeing other tenuous parallels with his own situation.
‘Second chance?’ Simon scoffed. ‘No way! She’s filed for divorce.’
‘Exactly!’ Razak grinned at him as he leaned forward in the chair to make his point. ‘She’s giving you a second chance to do what you really want to do with your life, without the responsibility of putting a roof over her head and food on her table…if you still want to do it.’
This time he was determined not to be the one to break the silence but his thoughts took him down pathways of their own.
‘Sometimes…’ Razak mused, staring down at the hands that were so much more fulfilled when they were solving other people’s surgical needs than they ever would their financial or political requirements. He knew that he had made the right choice of career, but… ‘Sometimes, other people can see more than you can about your own life, and it is wonderful if they can point you in the right direction, but sometimes they are more interested in their own wishes and will try to force you into being something that will never make you happy.’
‘The trouble is, you can be up to your neck in doing things to make other people happy before you realise everything’s gone wrong,’ Simon rasped. ‘And you can’t see any way of making it right.’
‘So maybe you should take a step back and work out if you really want to make it right, or if it is the time to draw a line under it and start afresh.’
‘Easy to say,’ Simon said grimly. ‘Not so easy to do with mortgage arrears piling up and a business falling apart.’
‘So, decide what’s important to you—hanging onto the remnants of your past life or getting rid of the chains. Then decide how you’re going to go about getting the life you really want.’
This time he managed to let the silence stretch out until his patient broke it, but in that time he’d seen a complete transformation in the expression in his eyes.
‘Or,’ Simon said slowly, as though working out his words as the thoughts evolved, ‘I could put my shoulder to the wheel just long enough to get my finances straight…then sell it all for as much as I can get, so I pay my wife off to get rid of her once and for all. Then I can be who I really wanted to be…
‘Hell, who am I kidding?’ he growled. ‘I’m never going to be a star at my age, no matter how good my songs are.’
‘I don’t see that age stopped anyone listening to Sinatra or the Rolling Stones and you’re a good deal younger than Pavarotti. Anyway, who said you have to be the singer? There are a lot of those about, but not nearly so many who can write their own songs,’ Razak pointed out, wishing he knew a little more about the business so he could be more help.
The alarm he’d set on his mobile phone started to bleep, reminding him that he still had a flight to catch.
‘I’m sorry but I must go now or I will miss my flight,’ he apologised, but he had a feeling that the man lying there with injuries from top to bottom barely heard him for the thoughts going round inside his head. ‘I will see you when I return,’ he promised, and turned to find Lily leaning against the doorframe and looking as if she’d been there for some time.
He found himself trying to replay what he’d said to their patient and wondering how much he’d given away. Had he made it obvious that he’d been thinking about her and the way she’d burst into his life like a ray of sunshine when all he’d been able to see ahead had been a monochromatic world of work and more work while his emotional life withered away completely?
‘Ready to go?’ she asked as she led the way down the corridor, a neat carry-on bag in her hand.
‘How far away do you live and how long will it take you to pack when we get there?’ he asked as he breathed a sigh of relief.
‘Already done,’ she said with a gesture towards the bag in her hand.
&nbs
p; ‘Is that all you’re taking?’ he demanded in amazement. ‘My sisters would need more than that to go away for a single night. For a week they would need a mountain of suitcases.’
‘I don’t really have much in my wardrobe suitable for your part of the world, so I just packed lightweight trousers and tops with long sleeves with a pashmina in case it gets cool in the evening.’
Razak’s regard for his new junior reached new heights. A woman who could manage to find time to pack somewhere in the middle of a busy day and without taking everything she possessed with her was a rarity indeed. He was just as lightly laden—there was little point in taking much with him when there was a complete set of belongings waiting for him in the family home.
‘Well, if you’ve got your passport in there, too, we can get off to the airport. The plane will be waiting for us.’
The plane will be waiting for us, he’d said, and Lily had chuckled at the very idea. She’d only discovered that he’d been speaking the literal truth when they were shown to a large executive jet with a discreet crest on the fuselage.
So, here she was ensconced in the unimaginable luxury of butter-soft leather seats in a room that looked as if it belonged in an upmarket hotel rather than the cabin of an aircraft.
‘Does your father have important friends?’ she asked weakly as he ushered her inside and made sure she was comfortable before taking the seat beside her.
‘Several,’ he said cryptically, the word almost lost in the sudden surge of sound from the jets that was apparently the result of his seat belt clicking shut. Within seconds, it seemed, they were racing along the runway and were airborne.
‘Would you like something to eat or would you rather sleep first?’ Razak asked once they were in level flight and a young steward came to stand at his elbow. ‘Even in this plane we will be in the air for about five hours and with the change in time zones it will be early morning when we arrive.’
Disorientation was setting in. Lily had been expecting the usual lengthy check-in and wait at the airport but somehow they’d been whisked through like royalty and ushered onto a plane that looked like something out of a magazine article on the lives of the rich and famous.
Now, instead of an arbitrary timetable dictating when she should be fed from a plastic tray, she was being offered a choice of whether to eat now or later.
The steward held out a menu and her first glance had her stomach rumbling noisily.
Razak laughed sympathetically. ‘Me, too!’ he said. ‘Neither of us stopped for food today, by the sound of it. What would you like?’
Salmon, chicken or steak? They all looked delicious when she was so hungry.
‘How about sharing some salmon as a starter then having chicken or steak for a main course?’ he suggested, when she couldn’t decide.
‘In that case, yes, please, and I’d like the chicken,’ she said with a grateful smile. ‘But how I’ll ever be able to make a decision about dessert, with so many delicious options on the menu, I don’t know. Look at it…crème brûlée, profiteroles, lemon posset and death by chocolate! It’s as if someone peeped inside my head and found out all my favourites!’
There was a strange gleam in his eye for a second and she remembered a conversation one day when the two of them had finished surgery too late for anything but a very tired, leathery piece of apple pie. They’d discussed their favourite menus that day, but it must just be an amazing coincidence that several of her choices were on the menu today…surely?
Then their poached salmon starter arrived on its bed of frilly lettuce and there was no more time for thought, just blissful tasting of succulent fish seasoned and cooked to perfection, followed by an equally delicious breast of chicken that had been butterflied and pan-fried and was served with a creamy sauce and a selection of baby vegetables.
When it was time for dessert the young steward approached with the menu again but Razak held up his hand and quickly said something in his own language.
‘What did you tell him?’ Lily demanded, when the young man went off with a grin on his face.
‘Wait and see,’ Razak said with a grin of his own that had her pulse clamouring for something far more potent than even her favourite desserts.
In spite of the fact that they were on their way to visit his father and that the man was apparently seriously ill, she didn’t think she’d ever seen Razak looking so relaxed. It made her realise just how much stress he must be under with the whole weight of responsibility for the success of this controversial trial on his shoulders.
‘Madam?’said a voice beside her shoulder, and it was the steward offering her a plate crammed with an almost full portion of each dessert on the menu.
‘Razak!’ she exclaimed through a gurgle of laughter, suddenly realising what he must have told the young man to do. ‘I can’t possibly eat all this!’
‘Then you’ll just have to share,’ he said smugly, as he grabbed his spoon.
For a moment she fended him off as though jealously guarding a treasure then she realised that these moments of nonsense were making her feel more carefree than she could ever remember. For the first time in many years she was actually having fun.
Razak, too, seemed unusually light-hearted while they argued over the fair distribution of the spoils and she wondered whether this was usually a feature of his off-duty persona. Apart from her unexpected attraction to him…attraction that had been growing stronger from the first day she’d met him…she really knew so little about him other than his role as a surgeon and her mentor.
There were so many things she wanted to ask him—about his family, his country, his aspirations about the job he was looking forward to so much when his contract ended—but almost as soon as she’d finished the last delicious mouthful of her share she felt her eyelids growing heavy and the next thing she knew was Razak’s hand gently shaking her shoulder.
‘Lily?’ he murmured, that husky voice so close to her ear that she could feel the warmth of his breath on the side of her face. ‘It is time.’
‘Time?’ She opened her eyes lazily as the lingering remnants of a dream blurred the fiction of the two of them sharing a bed with the reality of finding those dark, dark eyes so close that she could have counted every one of his eyelashes.
‘Time to do up your seat belt,’ he explained, as he straightened away from her and settled himself in his own seat. ‘We will be landing in a few minutes.’
Lily turned her face away from him and busied herself searching for the two ends of the belt, hoping that he couldn’t see the sudden surge of colour in her cheeks.
Seeing him there so close to her had been so much like her dream that she’d almost offered her mouth for the kiss he’d been about to give her in her sleep. How embarrassing it would have been if he’d realised just how much she’d wanted to feel his lips on hers, and how inappropriate. Apart from the fact that he was her boss, she was far too ordinary for someone as handsome as Razak.
She thought she’d got herself under control by the time they stepped out into the building heat of a brilliant new day when she saw the gleaming limousine waiting for them at the bottom of the steps.
‘Razak?’ she began uncertainly, when the driver hurried to open the door for them with what sounded like a formal salutation.
‘Please, make yourself comfortable,’ Razak said, his accent sounding more pronounced and sexier than ever now that he was surrounded by his countrymen. ‘If it is all right with you, we will drive straight to the hospital.’
‘At this hour of the morning?’ she exclaimed. ‘Can you imagine what the staff in CICU would say if visitors turned up so early?’
‘I don’t think the hour of our visit will cause a problem,’ he said confidently, and the penny dropped.
‘Ah, is that because this is the hospital where you’re going to be working when you return home? Are they already according you staff privileges?’
‘Something like that,’ he agreed, as they swept regally through a hospital
entrance that couldn’t be any more different from the inner-city one where they worked together, flanked as it was by the towering trunks of palm trees.
There was a very nervous-looking gentleman waiting for them at the entrance of the cardiac unit who looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else. It didn’t take Razak long to have him smiling and eager to take them to visit his patient.
In deference to his father’s privacy Lily intended waiting in the corridor but Razak left her no option when he placed a courteous hand at the back of her waist to usher her into the high-tech room.
She could see at once where Razak had inherited his looks, although the elderly man connected to all the wires and tubes looked desperately frail—that was, right up to the moment when Razak introduced her and he turned those dark eyes on her.
For the first time in her life, Lily had a feeling she knew what it would feel like to be a specimen under a microscope. It couldn’t be any less intense than the way his father examined her from head to toe and back again to focus on her face.
Lily had always known that she hadn’t inherited any of the family’s beauty but she didn’t think she had anything to be apologetic about with her academic achievements. When his imperious glare seemed to go on far longer than politeness permitted, her chin came up a belligerent inch and she was startled to see an answering gleam of humour in his eyes. The old man threw a brief husky sentence at his son before he raised a heavily veined hand and waved them both closer.
‘So, you work together?’ he said, his hand holding tightly to Razak’s as if it were a lifeline.
‘Lily is a junior surgeon on my team,’ Razak said, but those old eyes were fixed on her again.
‘And are you a good surgeon?’ he challenged her directly.
‘Not as good as I will be,’ she said firmly, feeling almost as if she was going through an unexpected job interview.
This time he actually laughed, the sound weak and papery but enough to make her feel as euphoric as if she’d somehow passed an important test.
Sheikh Surgeon, Surprise Bride Page 9
