by Sarah Morgan
She brought her gaze back to his, her colour rising again at the hint of mockery still lurking in his expression.
‘Everything to your liking, Dr Willoughby?’ he asked. ‘Or are you just checking to see if I need another bandage or two?’
She sent him a fulminating glare without answering but she could feel the heat of her embarrassment crawling like flames all over her face.
‘So who was the lucky recipient of your expert roadside help this morning?’ he asked with another taunting smile. ‘Or did you just make that up to get a few extra minutes in your boyfriend’s bed?’
Georgie clenched her hands by her sides. ‘I do not have a boyfriend and the person I attended to was brought into A and E by ambulance. For your information, I’m going down there right now to check on her progress.’
Ben suppressed a frown as she swung away, her high ponytail swishing from side to side as she wrenched open the door and left.
He removed his hands from his trouser pockets and dragged one through his hair as he sat back down at his desk and began mentally rehearsing his apology.
‘How did things go with little Jasmine?’ Georgie asked Jennifer Patterson, the doctor on duty in A and E.
‘She was fine in terms of the accident,’ Jennifer answered. ‘But you did the right thing sending her in about that suspected heart murmur. I don’t know why it wasn’t picked up earlier. We’ve organised an appointment with Cardiology for an echo.’
‘Gosh,’ Georgie said on an expelled breath. ‘That was lucky. I guess some accidents are meant to happen.’
Jennifer’s green eyes began to twinkle. ‘Everyone’s talking about your little accident yesterday with Ben Blackwood,’ she said. ‘That was a spooky coincidence, wasn’t it?’
Georgie started to scowl. ‘Who told you about it? I was under the impression Mr Blackwood wasn’t going to mention it but apparently he has, no doubt to rub salt in the wound.’
‘Actually, I heard it from one of the paramedics,’ Jennifer said. ‘He recognised you from your term at RPA.’ ‘Oh …’
‘So has Ben forgiven you yet?’ Jennifer asked.
‘No, and I don’t think he’s going to,’ she said with a worried frown. ‘He’s threatening to pull me out of the training scheme.’
Jennifer’s neat brows lifted. ‘That doesn’t sound like Ben,’ she said. ‘Mind you, with what happened to his sister, I guess he would be feeling a bit touchy.’
‘What happened to his sister?’
‘She was knocked off her bike when she was seven years old,’ she said. ‘Hit and run from what I’ve heard.’
‘Was she …?’ Georgie gulped over the word. ‘Killed?’
Jennifer shook her head. ‘No, but she suffered quite serious head injuries. She’s OK now, or so I’ve been told. Ben doesn’t talk about it and we know better than to ask. We had another hit and run in here just recently. The poor lad didn’t make it so I guess it would have been on Ben’s mind when you tipped him off his bike.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Georgie said, her chest feeling prickly and tight. ‘I feel so awful …’
‘It can happen to anyone,’ Jennifer said. ‘This place is full of people who get struck down by the hand of fate. It’s called life.’
‘I’ll have to apologise,’ Georgie said, biting her lip.
‘You mean you haven’t already?’
‘I did, but he didn’t listen,’ she answered, fighting back another scowl.
Jennifer gave her a musing look. ‘Uh-oh,’ she said.
Georgie’s scowl turned into a frown. ‘Is that some sort of secret Sydney Metropolitan language?’ she asked. ‘Jules Littlemore said the very same thing a short time ago.’
Jennifer just smiled.
Georgie was on her way back to Ben’s office when she was paged by Richard DeBurgh, one of the other neurosurgeons. She had covered his on-call the night before and had been looking forward to meeting him after his positive comments on how she had handled things during the night.
She knocked on his office door and entered at his command to come in.
‘Ah, Georgie, come in and make yourself comfortable,’ Richard said. ‘How is your father enjoying his retirement?’
Georgie took the chair opposite and sent him a friendly smile. ‘He’s finding it a bit difficult adjusting to a quieter pace,’ she confessed. ‘But he’s lost some weight since Christmas, which is a good thing.’
‘We miss him here,’ he said. ‘His work for the research foundation was brilliant. Is he continuing his role as chief patron?’
‘I’m not sure,’ Georgie said. ‘I think my mother is hoping he will put himself back on some committees or boards. He’s starting to get under her feet.’
Richard chuckled. ‘My wife has already warned me to ease into retirement gradually rather than come to a complete stop. So how have your first two days been?’
Her face fell a little. ‘OK, I guess …’
‘Come on, tell me what’s happened, my dear,’ he said. ‘Have you had some trouble?’
Georgie decided it wouldn’t hurt to get an ally on board, especially a senior clinician. ‘Ben Blackwood and I got off to a very bad start,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to put things right between us.’
‘It’s probably more to do with your father than you, Georgie,’ he said in response. ‘I suppose you know Ben failed his fellowship first time around.’
She felt a frown tug at her forehead. ‘No … I didn’t know that.’
‘Your father was the examiner who failed him.’
The pennies were starting to drop rather loudly in Georgie’s head. ‘Oh … I didn’t know that either.’
‘Petty of him, if you ask me,’ Richard said. ‘Ben, I mean, not your father, of course,’ he added with a little smile. ‘Just do your best, my dear, and I’ll make sure my report on you more than makes up for anything Ben Blackwood might say against you.’
‘Thank you, Mr DeBurgh. That’s very kind of you.’
‘Please, call me Richard,’ he said as he got to his feet. ‘Unlike some others around here, I don’t stand on ceremony.’ He offered her his hand across the desk. ‘Welcome to the unit, Georgie. It’s a pleasure to have you on board.’
Georgie smiled as she shook his hand. ‘Thank you, Richard. I’m looking forward to working with you.’
CHAPTER FIVE
‘HAS anyone seen Dr Willoughby about?’ Ben asked in the unit later that day.
‘I think she’s left for the day,’ the afternoon shift nurse Carla Yates informed him. ‘She was on call last night so I expect she was feeling a bit tired. It was a busy night. Do you want me to get her on the line for you?’
‘No,’ he said, reaching for his phone. ‘I’ll call her myself. It’s not urgent.’
‘She’s nothing like her father, is she?’ Carla asked after a little pause.
Ben looked at her with as little animation as possible. ‘What?’
‘Georgie Willoughby,’ she said. ‘She’s rather a sweetie, don’t you think?’
He gave the nurse a noncommittal shrug. ‘She’s OK, I guess.’
‘Jennifer Patterson was telling me Georgie quite possibly saved a young baby’s life this morning,’ she carried on.
Ben felt another wave of remorse begin to tighten his stomach. ‘Oh, really?’
‘Yes, she was first on the scene at a minor accident but insisted on the baby being brought in for observation. It turns out the little girl had an undiagnosed cardiac murmur. She was echoed this afternoon and has mitral incompetence.’
‘That was a lucky pick-up,’ he said, mentally escalating his apology. ‘Sure was.’
‘Well, then,’ he said giving the nurse a quick smile, ‘I’ll be off.’
‘Doing anything special this evening, Ben?’ she asked. ‘Not really. A quick session in the gym and then dinner and bed.’
‘Sounds a bit boring to me,’ Carla said. ‘Isn’t it time you put Leila behind you and went on a da
te?’
‘My lack of dating recently has nothing whatsoever to do with my break-up with Leila,’ he said with a brooding frown. ‘I just haven’t had the time.’
Carla patted his arm as she moved to answer the ringing phone. ‘You should make the time.’
I might just do that, Ben thought as he pressed the button for the lift.
Georgie hated going to the gym in the evenings. She was a morning person and liked the feeling of having put her exercise behind her for the day so she could concentrate on work and study. But being on call two nights a week and every third weekend was going to disrupt her routine and she decided she’d better try and be a bit more flexible.
She didn’t recognise any of the faces in the cardio room, which meant no chatting to the person beside her on the step machine or cross-trainer.
She was half way through her warm-up when she saw Ben come in. He was dressed in a dry-skin workout top and bicycle shorts, every muscle pumped and glowing from lifting weights in the next room.
She put her head down and upped the speed on the cross-trainer, hoping he wouldn’t recognise her.
She felt him rather than saw him. Every tiny hair on the back of her neck lifted when she picked up that totally intoxicating intermingled scent of his body and aftershave.
‘Hi,’ he said, taking the treadmill machine beside her.
‘Oh … hi …’ She blinked the perspiration out of her eyes and brushed her hair back with her hand.
‘I haven’t seen you in here before,’ he said as he selected a programme.
Georgie concentrated on the calorie readout rather than meet his eyes. What? Only forty-eight? An apple was at least eighty! ‘I usually come in the mornings,’ she said. ‘But I overslept this morning.’
‘But not because of a boyfriend.’
She swivelled her head his way. ‘Er … no …’
‘I’ve never actually apologised on a treadmill before so, please, excuse me if it’s a little rough around the edges,’ he said. ‘I was out of line this morning.’
Georgie turned back to concentrate on her heart rate readout this time. One hundred and eighty! Surely that couldn’t be right? ‘It’s fine, really,’ she said, trying not to pant too loudly. ‘I was out of line, too.’
‘I don’t know what got into me,’ he went on. ‘I’ve been acting like an idiot.’
‘It’s OK,’ she puffed. ‘I’m not normally so hot-headed either.’
The silence was measured by the sound of his feet running on the treadmill.
‘What time are you finishing here?’ he asked.
Georgie looked at the digital time readout. Seven minutes! Was that all she’d done? ‘Um … in about fifty-three minutes,’ she answered.
‘Do you want to grab a quick bite of dinner somewhere?’ She turned and looked at him, her arms and legs coming to a halt on the machine. ‘You mean on a date?’ she squeaked.
He frowned at her bug-eyed expression. ‘Well, sort of, I guess. Is that going to be a problem for you?’
She blew out her pink cheeks and restarted her programme, surreptitiously upping her level. ‘I’m supposed to be on a dating fast,’ she confessed. ‘I made a promise to my flatmate, Rhiannon.’
‘You don’t have to tell her,’ he suggested. ‘Anyway, it’s just dinner. It’s not as if I’m going to go down on bended knee or something. I often have a meal with my registrars.’
Georgie mulled it over in her mind. Dinner with a colleague wasn’t really a date, was it? It was more of a professional face to face. ‘OK,’ she said, sending him a tiny half-smile. ‘But I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone at the hospital. I wouldn’t want anyone to jump to conclusions.’
‘They won’t hear about it from me,’ Ben said, and upped his level.
Georgie sneaked a look at the level he’d chosen. Twenty! Surely he wasn’t that fit? She blew out a breath and soldiered on, her legs and arms feeling like lead weights as each minute crawled by.
Ben hardly broke a sweat, she noticed with a twinge of resentment. No doubt all that testosterone gave him an edge. Life certainly wasn’t fair when it came to femininity and fitness, she thought with another quick glance at his readout details.
‘I’m off for a quick shower,’ he said as the last few seconds of her programme were counting down. ‘Shall I meet you in Reception or the car park?’
‘Reception,’ she said, stepping off the machine. ‘I jogged down this evening.’
A frown brought his dark brows together. ‘Is that safe?’ he asked.
‘It’s only a few blocks from my apartment,’ she pointed out.
‘Yes, but you can’t be too careful,’ he said, ‘especially at night.’
‘You’re starting to sound like my father,’ she said with a rueful twist to her mouth. ‘He thinks I need a bodyguard and has even offered to pay for one.’
A brief flash of annoyance passed over his features at her comment. ‘I’ll see you in about ten minutes,’ he said. ‘Or do you need longer?’
Georgie gave him a pert look. ‘It takes time to put on lipstick, Mr Blackwood.’
His eyes held hers for a pulsating moment.
‘Right, then,’ he said, heading towards the male change rooms. ‘I’ll give you twelve minutes.’
Georgie dived into the shower, quickly shampooing her hair and combing through some conditioner. She dried herself off and dressed in the fresh casual clothes she’d brought in her backpack. She didn’t have any make-up with her but she did have a little tub of strawberry flavoured lip-gloss which she dabbed on her lips. She gave her hair a quick blast with the hairdryer on the wall and, finger-combing it into place, walked out to reception.
Ben looked up as she approached, his stomach giving a short, sharp kick of reaction at the sight of her glossy mid-length hair lying loosely about her shoulders. His fingers started to twitch with the impulse to run through the shiny strands and he had to clench his hands to deaden the urge. She was wearing white cotton drawstring trousers and a low-cut T-shirt that hugged her small but firm breasts lovingly. Her waist was tiny and her arms slim and toned, the hint of a golden tan giving her skin a healthy glow. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d seen a more naturally beautiful woman.
Desire, hot and urgent, pulsed through him as his gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips were plump and glossy, just begging to be kissed.
God, it had been so long since he’d felt a woman’s soft touch. He could almost feel the gentle glide of Georgie’s smooth hands over his body, touching him, her soft pouting mouth tasting him.
‘Everything OK?’ she asked, looking up at him.
Ben gave himself a mental shake and smiled. ‘Yeah, sorry, I was thinking about something else.’
She fell into step beside him as he led the way outside. ‘It’s like that, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Work plays on your mind so much you don’t have room for anything else.’
He glanced down at her, breathing in the sweet fresh fragrance of her shampoo, her shoulder brushing against his arm as she moved past him in the doorway. ‘Yes, it’s amazing how any of us turn out normal when you think about the punishing hours we have to put in,’ he said.
He opened the passenger side of his utility for her and wondered if she’d turn up her nose at the faint smell of lucerne hay from his weekend down at the farm.
‘Hang on a tick,’ he said, reaching past her to shove some feed bills aside. ‘There you go.’
‘Thank you,’ Georgie said as she got in. ‘Wow, this is cool. Do you have a farm?’
He got in the driver’s side before he answered. ‘My mother and stepfather run a property at Mudgee. Cattle mostly, although they’ve got a few vines in for a wine-maker further up the road. Normally they’d be growing feed crops but the drought has hit them hard.’
She turned to look at him. ‘Did you grow up in the bush?’
‘Yep.’
‘How often do you go out to the property?’
‘I try to get out t
here once a month at least,’ he answered.
‘Sometimes I manage twice a month but that’s not always possible with private practice commitments.’
‘Are you going to continue as a staff neurosurgeon or make a total move to the private sector?’ she asked.
He changed gear as he headed out into the stream of traffic. ‘The financial rewards of private practice are very tempting, but I can’t help feeling the public system deserves support. I juggle both with the hours I have available. I enjoy working in a large teaching hospital and, to me, research is a high priority.’
‘What’s the focus of your research?’ Georgie asked, her gaze drifting to his hands, her stomach giving a little kick of reaction as he changed gear again.
‘Improving outcomes in cerebral aneurysm,’ he answered. ‘I’m looking at a couple of different methods of reducing cerebral metabolic requirements in patients with leaking aneurysms, pre-, peri- and post-operatively, to look at outcome improvements. I have some suggestions for a research project for you if you haven’t already thought of anything.’
‘I have a few ideas,’ she said, dragging her eyes away from those long, tanned fingers. ‘Ultimately I’m interested in paediatric neurosurgery, but one of my ideas might tie in with your project.’
He flicked a sideways glance her way. ‘Is that where you intend to eventually end up—paediatrics?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I love kids, I always have. I guess it’s because I’m an only child. I would have loved brothers and sisters.’
‘What was your research idea?’ he asked.
‘Once, when I was an intern, I saw a kid brought in from a yacht. He’d gone overboard, had had a life-jacket on, but had been in the water nearly an hour before he could be retrieved. He’d been bashed in the back of the head, and had been unconscious when he’d gone overboard, and was seriously hypothermic when they had eventually pulled him out.
