To Dr Cartwright, A Daughter

by Meredith Webber

  'Don't you?'

  She didn't have to look at him to know there'd be a glint of mischief lurking in his eyes. But she wasn't going to let him tease his way back into her heart—then turn away from her again.

  'Oh, I'm sure it will,' she agreed, letting sarcasm rip along the words. 'Any time you annoy me, I can pick up the brass pelvic frame a kind medical rep gave me and belt you over the head with it.'

  His lips twitched but he didn't smile—which was just as well! A smile might have torn aside her thin veil of composure and left her vulnerable to the full force of his appeal.

  'I'd thought of other conveniences,' he said softly. 'After all, if one desk is fun, imagine two!'

  The heat began in her toes and fingertips, then raced upward through her body until it was flaring in her cheeks and pulsing in her blood. How dared he remind her of that silly escapade?

  And how dared her body remember it so vividly?

  'Don't even think about it!' She spaced the words to emphasise the threat. 'I'll work with you for two months, Jake Cartwright, but that is it. If you had some crazy idea of renewing an old relationship—if you fancied I'd melt into a little puddle of desire every time you walked through the door—then forget it! What happened between us was over a long time ago.'

  Glaring ferociously at him, she added, 'And it was your choice, remember?'

  She flicked at an imaginary bit of dust on her desk, but his next words stabbed into her heart.

  'Can you forget it?' he asked.

  Ignore him! her heart shouted.

  'Forget the past, Katy?'

  The repetition of the words rasped across her skin, activating nerve-endings so the hairs on her arms bristled to attention.

  She opened her mouth to speak but found she'd forgotten how to form words—even if her brain could think of some to say. Her heart was thumping so loudly she was certain he must be able to hear it.

  He was studying her face, her lips. She tried to moisten them but her tongue was also dry and she realised she was breathing through her mouth, dragging air into lungs that laboured in her chest. She knew she had to answer his question or lose this battle before it had begun.

  'Most of it,' she lied valiantly.

  'But not all?' he persisted. 'Not everything?'

  He stepped towards her—one pace, then another, and another, and another—until he stood so close she could see his chest rising and falling as he breathed.

  'Not this?'

  His voice had changed so the words were velvet-smooth. He raised the back of his hand to the side of her neck, sliding it upward towards her ear, lifting the hair that tumbled to her shoulders and hefting it as if testing its weight. She steeled herself against the touch, against the seduction of his voice and the assault she knew would follow as he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers.

  She reminded herself of her little daughter, growing up without a father, and told herself she hated him.

  His tongue slid along the line of her mouth, then eased between her lips to touch her teeth. How could one man's kiss rouse the blood to tumult when another's left it cold?

  Don't think about him. Don't respond, she ordered her body. Don't move, don't flinch, don't let him guess your heart is battering itself to death. Keep your lips closed and your hands still.

  Her fingernails bit into the palms of her hands as she resisted the urge to reach up and touch him, while her lips ached with the need to kiss him back, or to part and allow his kiss to deepen. Then, just as she knew she must give in—must fall against his body and let herself feel the magic one more time—he moved away, deep, half-spoken curses rumbling in his throat.

  Katy stepped behind her desk and sank into her chair, pleased she'd made it that far before her trembling legs gave out and betrayed her deceit. She opened the top drawer and pulled out the bits and pieces she usually kept on her desk.

  Her handbag went into the bottom drawer, then she found the file of notes Jillian, her temporary replacement, had left for her, and the folder with the information on the new maternity unit.

  'I'm sorry, Katy!' he muttered, and crossed to slump down in his own chair—still frowning. 'What I did just now—that was unforgivable.'

  Jake apologising? He had changed!

  'Yes, it was!' she agreed, unwilling to let him off the hook too easily. Then an imp of mischief prompted her to add, 'I certainly wouldn't recommend coming on to all your administrative assistants quite that strongly. Not on the first day, at any rate!'

  He growled something that sounded quite profane and she knew she had come out on top in this first encounter. She relaxed a little. If she could hide her own turmoil behind a determinedly professional manner she might just survive the next two months!

  Determinedly professional! That was the approach.

  And don't even think of Julia in case he can still read your thoughts!

  'I assume Jillian introduced you to all the staff and showed you around? You've got the schedules for the month,' she began, seeing the note Jillian had attached to her own copy of the list of meetings he was expected to attend. 'You probably realise you won't make half these meetings because you're on call for emergencies or consultations. So I attend all but the department directors' meetings with you—or without you if you're not available.'

  He didn't reply, and when she glanced towards him she realised he probably hadn't heard her. He had a puzzled look on his face, as if he'd turned a corner and found himself in a foreign land.

  His abstracted demeanour gave her confidence.

  'Actually, I could probably run this office on my own, but the hospital seems to think it needs doctors.' She smiled at the feeble joke, realising she was now far more at ease than he was. Surely that would give her an added advantage!

  Then he smiled back, and any advantage she'd thought she had was lost. Her heart fluttered in its beat then lurched into a new staccato rhythm, leaving her breathless.

  'Spoken like a true administrator,' he said softly.

  She stared at him for a moment, afraid of softness from this man, then she turned her attention back to Jillian's other notes and continued to pretend she was totally unaffected by this cataclysmic reunion.

  'There's the monthly ward meeting tomorrow,' she reminded him, glancing up but not quite meeting his eyes. Keep it light, instinct reminded her. Play it as a comedy not a drama.

  He seemed uneasy—different from the man she'd encountered earlier in the elevator. Or was she imagining it? The Jake Cartwright she'd known had never had an uneasy moment in his life. Even when he had lain in hospital after those two terrible weeks in Intensive Care he'd been enough in control to tell her she was no longer part of his life.

  She put the thought aside and forced herself to concentrate on work.

  'Do you have anything in particular you want to discuss? I'll type up an agenda for you.'

  There was a long, tight silence, then he muttered something that sounded uncomplimentary to all women and rustled the papers on his own desk. She pretended she hadn't heard and flicked through the rest of the notes Jillian had left for her. Patients were being placed in 'B' and 'C' wings, and 'A' wing should be empty by Wednesday.

  Katy nodded at the note. The hospital had been built so these wings could be isolated completely. The original idea had been so the various parts of the hospital could be shut off from each other in case of fire, but it had proved invaluable for cleaning and pest control purposes. The three utility and storage rooms in 'A' wing would have to be emptied tomorrow, then the wing would be ready for its annual steam-clean.

  She made a note to check with the ward sister that staff were available to move the supplies out of these rooms. She could call in some extra wardsmen if necessary.

  She doodled on the paper, thinking ahead. Because of the chemicals used, it would remain empty for at least a week. And after that...? Counting today and tomorrow, she had nine days to convince Jake that the new maternity unit was a good idea. Could she do it?


  She looked up again and this time she did meet his eyes. She even smiled.

  'Well, boss,' she said cheekily. 'What shall I put on this agenda of yours?'

  CHAPTER TWO

  For a moment Katy thought she'd gone too far, for Jake's frown deepened, but then he shrugged and opened the folder on his desk.

  'Jillian's already drawn up an agenda,' he said, his voice so mild she had to dismiss any idea of uneasiness. In fact, he was now as professionally intent as she was trying to be. 'The only item I don't understand is this new maternity unit. She told me it's your pet project and that you'd explain about it.'

  'The new unit—' She'd barely begun when he broke in.

  'I should tell you I was told fairly specifically that the hospital can't afford to be spending money. Seems every new department director has a pet project he wants to put into place. When Dan Petersen found he couldn't take up his position immediately, the hospital administration was happy to have me come in because I've made a study of cost analysis in maternity wards. A hospital has to run like any other business. It's expected to pay its way—'

  'And make a tidy profit for its shareholders,' Katy interjected as a perverse disappointment swamped her. Jake and cost analysis? It didn't seem possible that the wild, brilliant, people-orientated young man she'd known had become a bean-counter. 'Of course, that's more important than patient satisfaction!' she added bitterly, momentarily forgetting her 'keep it light' decision.

  He ignored her sarcasm and continued in a bland tone.

  'I should also point out that I understood the director's assistant's job was to assist the director, not make snide remarks or instigate changes in the department.'

  He sounded so stuffy Katy stared blankly at him for a moment, seeking a sign that he was joking. But no gleam of humour lit his blue eyes! She decided to ignore the jibe and go into attack mode.

  'Old Forbes up in the head office has been talking to you. That bit about "paying its way'' is exactly what he said to me when the board approved the outlay for the crèche. I fought hard for that crèche, but he can't see past the end of a bank statement where change is concerned. He won't even admit it's a success!'

  She pursed her lips, dipped her head, and looked up from under lowered brows to imitate the head accountant.

  '"It's not your job to worry about such things, Miss Turner!"' she mimicked in a high-pitched whine, then she grinned to show she meant no malice to the old man.

  There was no answering smile.

  'Well, how do you see your job?'

  Katy felt the smile slide off her lips. Maybe the comedy angle wasn't the answer! Yet how else could she hide the dreadful muddle of emotion and anguish his presence was causing?

  Concentrate on work—on the new unit. It was vital to get Jake on side if her wonderful vision was to become a reality. Dan Petersen had approved, but she'd often wondered it he'd have the courage and persistence to fight the money-handlers for it, or convince the consultants and medical staff it would work. Now, Jake, as she remembered him, had loved a challenge. Would bean-counting have changed him?

  She couldn't tell by looking at him. He just sat there at his desk, his eyes fixed on the papers he was shuffling as he waited in silence for her reply.

  'Oh, assisting the director, of course,' she murmured, and tried another, more tentative smile. 'Doing whatever is possible to make this department run more smoothly and efficiently, also boosting awareness in the community of the services we offer and promoting the good name of Lake Shore North far and wide.'

  His lips twitched, and for a moment she thought he might smile back at her. A hollow feeling in her chest reminded her that his smiling back might not be a good idea, but before she had to worry about it the lips had stilled and his brows had drawn together in a frown. She hurried into speech again.

  'At the moment everything is running smoothly in the wards, but our obstetric case numbers are dropping.'

  'That's happening everywhere,' he pointed out. 'More people are opting for home births or using small specialist birthing centres—'

  'Exactly!' Katy told him, leaping into his opening with her argument. 'And there's no reason why women can't see Lake Shore North as just such a centre.'

  'See a fifteen-storey pile of steel and concrete as a "small specialist birthing centre"?' he mocked. 'Are you advocating setting up a cabin in the gardens, or pulling down the building to make way for your brave idea?'

  She bit back the retort she'd have liked to make and forced herself to continue calmly.

  'There's no reason we can't provide what people want within the confines of this building. It's the feel of the place once people come in that we need to change— what's inside that counts-- not the external packaging.'

  Vague memories stirred, and she remembered another conversation along the same lines. Jake holding her in front of a darkened shop window, 'See how great we look together!' She'd pulled away and made a similarly pompous little speech. He'd laughed at her, agreeing, but pleased with their reflected image all the same. It hadn't been vanity, with Jake, that had made him pleased about their physical appearance, but part of his need to always seek perfection, to strive to be the fastest, highest, smartest, best!

  She glanced up to see him watching her as he waited for her to continue. She couldn't let herself begin to think about the past.

  'Lake Shore as a suburb is changing demographically,' she said, looking down at the desk as if she needed to read words she knew by heart. 'The wealthy people who once lived here and chose Lake Shore North to have their babies are moving out to houses on acreage and the old houses in the area are being turned into flats—'

  'Which should give us more potential customers, not fewer,' he pointed out. 'I know the hospital has an agreement with the government to take public as well as private patients.'

  'Exactly what I keep trying to tell Ol—ah, Mr Forbes,' Katy cut in. 'And we're guaranteed no bad debts with the public patients because the government pays. The problem lies in selling the hospital to the newcomers who would make up the bulk of our public patients.'

  'Which, as you've so wisely pointed out, is your job. Can't you do it without spending vast sums of money on a new unit?'

  Katy bit her lip and took a deep, steadying breath. In the past, Jake had used such crisp retorts to tempt her into argument, delighting in the cut and thrust as he forced her to validate the point she was making. She had grown to enjoy the verbal sparring, but she suspected shock had numbed her brain too much to win a war of words with him today.

  'I'm not suggesting we spend vast sums of money,' she said quietly, homing in on the most valid point in her plan. 'There would be no building costs apart from maybe some repainting, which would come out of the maintenance budget anyway. And no new staffing costs because we will still be operating the same number of beds. At the moment we're over-staffed because we're down on maternity case numbers.'

  'So, how does a new unit change things around? What are you advocating—offering women whatever choice they want? Underwater births, pseudo-home births, family rooms, or all of the above?'

  He turned away from her before she could reply, staring out of the window towards the lake. It was wind-ruffled today, Katy noticed, with the sun flecking the crests of the tiny waves with gold. She loved the lake in all its moods—a love that had begun when she and Jake had first met and walked beside it...

  'You've been here a week; you should know we already offer women those choices. The birthing suites were put in for that purpose, and many women do see them as a valid and acceptable alternative to home birth,' she said, dragging her thoughts resolutely back to the present. 'I'm talking about attitude, about taking into consideration the traditions and feelings of women from other cultures.'

  'Other cultures?'

  His voice seemed to come from a long way off and his face had lost its sternness when he turned back towards her.

  'Particularly Asian cultures,' she said, drawn towards the gleam of interes
t in his eyes. 'Most of the families shifting into the area are from South-East Asian backgrounds. We have interpreters in the hospital, and we can offer Asian food, but we need to do more in training our staff to understand the ways of these people. And we should have a proper antenatal programme for them, not the hit and miss stuff we're doing now. Also, if we can put the women together in one ward, they will be able to speak to each other and should feel less isolated.'

  He moved slightly so he was looking out of the window again, but she knew he was listening—listening to and absorbing her idea. She kept talking—quickly—excited by that spark of interest but knowing he could be called away any minute.

  'Grouping them together in one ward would help generate informal support networks for when they leave hospital. These women come from a culture where the family is very involved throughout their pregnancy and confinement, especially the woman's mother and the mother-in-law. Most of our patients are immigrants, having their first babies alone in a foreign country without their traditional family support systems.'

  He frowned at her and she wondered what she'd said to annoy him.

  'We can't discuss this at the ward meeting tomorrow morning,' he told her, shaking his head as if to dismiss the whole idea.

  Katy's temper flared.

  'And why not?' she demanded. 'If you're into protocol and doing things by the book, then you have to discuss it because it's on the agenda. The ward staff have all had input into the idea and they're keen to try it, and I've already told you it won't cost your precious shareholders much money. What possible reason could you have for not discussing it tomorrow?'

  'Because I know nothing about it?' he responded calmly. 'I can't go into a meeting with only the haziest idea of what we're discussing.'

  'I've all the information in here.' She waved the fat file at him. 'Including the number of Asian-born women in the area—taken from the Census—and written information on birthing and confinement customs in South-East Asian countries. It's actually the confinement—'

  He held up his hand to stop her flow of words.