One Week to Win His Heart

by Lucy Clark

  Once in Theatre, Melody had her mind in gear and off George Wilmont. She focused her attention on Mr Potter’s arm, which he’d injured while playing tennis.

  Both she and Andy concentrated on what they were doing but, as always, enjoyed a bit of conversation while performing their duties. ‘Glad the VOS is finally under way?’ Andy asked.

  ‘Most definitely. One day down, four more to go.’ Andy had known she hadn’t wanted to act as host for the VOS and had tolerated her mounting apprehensiveness with a cool, calm and collected attitude.

  ‘I take it the dinner went well.’

  ‘Yes.’ Melody frowned.

  ‘The VOS seems like a nice guy.’

  ‘Did you manage to get to the viewing gallery this afternoon?’

  ‘I came in late. Couldn’t see much. You, on the other hand, certainly had a bird’s eye view. How did that happen?’

  Melody chuckled and told him about Mr Okanadu’s cancellation while she inserted a drain into Mr Potter’s arm, which would hopefully ensure against further recurrence of compartment syndrome.

  ‘What was it like? I mean, operating with one of the greats?’

  She heard the door to her theatre open but thought nothing of it. ‘What was it like? It was scary, that’s what it was like.’ Melody paused for a moment. ‘Not scary assisting George, that part was fine, but having all those people watching? No, thank you.’

  ‘George, eh?’ Andy teased. ‘On a first-name basis already?’

  ‘What do you expect me to call him? Professor? His Excellency? Brilliant Surgeon?’

  The sexiest man alive? She kept that last one to herself but smiled beneath her mask. She heard someone slowly walk around the table and come to stand behind Andy.

  Melody frowned and raised her gaze to look just past Andy’s shoulder. Her eyes widened in surprise as she looked directly into George’s deep brown eyes.

  ‘I’d settle for the last one,’ he said in that deep voice she was becoming accustomed to.

  Melody quickly put a dampener on the frisson of awareness his close proximity caused her. For a second she thought she’d spoken her last description out loud and lowered her gaze, forcing herself to concentrate on her work. She was almost ready to close.

  ‘George,’ she said, hoping her voice didn’t betray the surprise, elation and confusion she felt at his unannounced presence. ‘What brings you here?’

  ‘Curiosity.’

  ‘For compartment syndrome?’

  He chuckled at her words and she momentarily allowed the sound to wash over her.

  ‘Introduce us,’ Andy whispered, and Melody cleared her throat.

  ‘George, this is my registrar, Dr Andy Thompson, who is going to help me to close up Mr Potter’s arm so we can get out of here.’

  ‘Nice to meet you, Andy,’ George remarked. Although he was wearing full theatre garb, George remained on the outer perimeter of the operating table.

  ‘Likewise, sir.’

  ‘Shouldn’t that be “Sir Brilliant Surgeon”?’ she teased Andy, as she started suturing.

  ‘No. That was what you were supposed to call him,’ Andy replied.

  She glanced over at George. ‘I take it coffee was served without a hitch?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ There was silence for a while as Melody and Andy continued with their work.

  ‘It must have been a good night,’ Andy said. ‘At least, judging from Melody’s flash hairstyle that’s now hidden beneath her theatre cap.’

  ‘It was,’ George replied, his gaze meeting with Melody’s for a few seconds.

  ‘Right. We’re done,’ Melody announced, forcing herself to look away. She nodded to the anaesthetist before heading out of Theatre. She de-gowned and took a deep breath. George followed her, removing his own theatre garb as well. ‘So why did you really come down here?’ she asked as she headed into the doctors’ tea room so she could write up the operation notes. When he didn’t reply, she stopped and turned around, unsure whether he was still there. He collided with her, his hands instinctively resting on her waist to control his balance.

  ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled, and lifted her chin to gaze up at him. They were standing just inside the door to the empty tea room and Melody didn’t know whether she wanted it to fill up or stay deserted. ‘I wasn’t sure if you were…still…’ Her voice trailed off. Aware that George hadn’t removed his hands from her body, his touch burned through the green cotton of her theatre scrubs, making her intensely aware of their close proximity.

  She felt a smouldering fire within her come to life. Her breathing became shallow, her lips parting to allow the air to escape. Her knees started to weaken as his thumb started moving in tiny circles, fanning the blaze.

  His brown eyes were clouded with desire, his breathing as uneven as her own. ‘Why did I really come?’ he asked. They were close, so close that his breath fanned her cheek as he spoke. He smelled good—too good—and the scent of him only exacerbated the weakness of her knees. She knew she had to be careful, knew she had to keep control of her habit of jumping into the fire before assessing the risks. She’d been badly burned in relationships before and knew her inherent optimism of wanting to always see the best in people could get her into trouble. Was George Wilmont trouble? Was he married? Was he a widower? She still had no clue, and if it was the former then she wanted nothing to do with him, other than being the professional host the VOS required her to be.

  ‘Melody, I…uh…’ He paused and shook his head. ‘I really didn’t think this through,’ he muttered, as he took a step away.

  ‘Think what through?’ She held her breath, her body zinging with anticipation. George was rattled and she secretly hoped it was her that had rattled him and even then, only because he had rattled her.

  ‘Coming here. Walking into your theatre. Jabbering at you now.’ He pushed a hand through his hair and shook his head. ‘Sorry. This was a mistake.’ He went to leave but turned when she called his name.

  ‘Now that you’re here, there is a question I want to ask you.’

  ‘Oh?’

  It was Melody’s turn to feel awkward and unsure but after a moment of reflection she forged ahead. ‘I’m sorry if this seems forward or overly personal but—are you married?’

  He raised his eyebrows at the question. ‘Married? No.’

  A bubble of laughter rose in her and she momentarily covered her mouth. He wasn’t married. This was a good thing, right? It meant that the feelings she was developing towards him weren’t wrong, that she didn’t need to feel any guilt at being attracted to him. ‘Oh. It’s in your dossier.’

  ‘Really? You must have received an old copy of the information.’ He glanced down at the floor for a moment before meeting her gaze once more. ‘I’m a widower. My wife passed away eighteen months ago.’

  ‘I’m sorry, George.’ Her words were heartfelt.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘No, but losing someone close to you is never easy.’

  He nodded. ‘You’d think, seeing death as often as we do, that we’d have better coping mechanisms in place.’

  ‘You’d think so, but it’s rarely that cut and dried. It can take many years to get over a loved one’s passing.’

  ‘See?’ He held one hand out towards her. ‘That’s exactly how I think. You…get me.’ He sighed. ‘Many people don’t.’

  ‘They expect you to move on with your life?’

  He nodded. ‘I know I’ll have to—eventually—but…’ He stopped.

  ‘When you’re ready, it’ll happen.’ Her words were soft. ‘I haven’t lost a spouse, but I have lost close friends and family. Grief takes time and that time is different for everyone.’

  ‘Yes.’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘And then you meet someone new and that person makes you…feel.’

  ‘Feel what?’

  ‘Just feel.’ George shook his head. ‘You made me feel today, Melody. That’s what I’ve come here to tell you because I do
n’t understand it and I didn’t ask for it and… I just wanted to be open and honest and clear.’

  ‘Clear? About what?’ Feeling emboldened by their frank discussion, Melody took it one step further. ‘That we’re attracted to each other?’

  ‘You feel it, too?’ His words were soft, deep and filled with a mixture of confusion and longing.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well… OK. Uh—I guess the next question is, do we do anything about it?’

  ‘That is the question, and I don’t know the answer.’ She shrugged her shoulders.

  George leaned against the bench and the two of them stared at each other. ‘Neither do I.’

  CHAPTER FIVE

  LATER, AS MELODY drove home from the hospital, she reflected on the way she and George had just stared at each other, neither of them sure what to do or say next. They were attracted to each other and she was relieved they’d actually discussed this openly. Her past relationships had been riddled with lies.

  So many lies. So many deceptions. So many mistakes. That’s what her adult dating life had consisted of, which made George Wilmont’s open frankness all the more appealing. It ran true to form that the next man to make her heart pound would be another unobtainable man, although thankfully not for the same cheating reasons as before.

  George was single. George was devastatingly handsome. George lived over nine hundred kilometres away from her.

  ‘It’s just your luck in men,’ she told herself as she opened the door to her apartment. She headed to her room and changed from the expensive evening gown into her comfortable pyjamas. It had been a long and hectic day, a day that would be seared in her memory for the rest of her life as it was the day she’d met George. She could clearly remember her father saying, ‘Most days just run one into the other and then, out of nowhere, comes a day that can change your life for ever.’

  ‘Oh, Dad,’ Melody whispered. ‘You were so right.’ Her mind was full of mixed emotions—happiness, confusion, excitement and anticipation. What on earth would happen tomorrow? In order to wind her mind down from the hectic and tumultuous day, Melody headed to bed and pulled out the copy of her latest medical journal. She opened it to the paper she’d read the night before—a paper by Professor George Wilmont. Now that she’d met the man, when she re-read the paper she could hear his voice coming through the words on the page. That deep, sensual, melodious voice of his that was soothing and divine and…and that mouth as it moved to form words and…

  When she almost dropped the journal on her face, Melody realised she was falling asleep. Putting the journal down beside her, she switched off the light and snuggled down, all too clearly recalling the way he could stand in front of a packed lecture room and enthral his audience. With visions of him in her head, she drifted off to sleep, a small smile on her lips.

  The smile was still there the next morning as she awoke to her alarm with thoughts of George Wilmont still dancing around the edge of her dreams. She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. ‘I dreamed about George.’ She closed her eyes and turned off her alarm. How could she dream about a man she hardly knew? He was only here for another four days.

  ‘Four days!’ she told herself as she shoved the bed covers aside and headed to the bathroom. Turning on the shower taps, Melody allowed the spray of the hot water to calm her thoughts. ‘You can do this,’ she told her reflection as she dried her hair. ‘You’re a professional. Just go to the hospital, smile politely at him, do your work and just—just concentrate on—on…’ She desperately thought of something else to think about before the answer hit. ‘Your research.’

  How had he managed to do it? Ever since Emir had broken her heart, ditching her for a life with another woman, Melody had focused solely on her work. True, being acting head of department was enough to keep her busy and she’d been grateful for that, but it still raised questions about her future.

  Would she ever be a bride and not just a bridesmaid? Would she ever be a mother and not just an aunt? When would it be her turn? Would it ever be her turn? Had she missed her window? She wasn’t getting any younger and her biological clock was definitely starting to tick. Was she just going to let two bad apples ruin what might be her opportunity to find a good apple? Could she risk her heart once again? Should she allow her fancy to have free rein or would George break her heart? If he did, where would she be then? Three times defeated by love!

  Her thoughts continued to war as she finished getting ready for work, eating a light breakfast of juice and toast before driving to work. When she arrived, she made sure her cool, calm and collected professional façade was in place as she walked to her office. ‘Good morning, Rick,’ she said as she breezed in through the door.

  ‘Well, hello. Aren’t you looking like the consummate professional today?’ her PA teased. She’d dressed in one of her power suits. Navy trousers and jacket and white silk shirt. Her hair was clipped back at her nape in the hope that her unruly curls would behave themselves.

  ‘Thank you,’ she replied as she quickly flicked through her in-tray. She had five minutes before she needed to head to the ward, so she dealt with some paperwork before returning the papers to Rick so he could process them.

  ‘Gee, thanks,’ he muttered, and she smiled sweetly at him. ‘Off to ward round?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Nervous?’

  ‘Who, me?’ she joked, and reached for her stethoscope. ‘There’s nothing else I have to do this morning? No more speeches? Introductions?’

  ‘No. As far as George’s schedule is concerned, he’s accompanying you on the ward round and then he’s back off to the lecture theatre. You’re in clinic while he’s lecturing to the fourth-and sixth-year medical students. Dinner this evening is at the hotel George is staying at.’

  ‘Great. Thanks,’ she said, then headed towards the ward. With every step she took, she did her best to calm her increasing nerves. She was going to see George again. Would she feel the same immediate connection as yesterday? Would it be stronger?

  When she entered the ward, she felt as though she was going to be physically sick, her stomach was churning so much. It was ridiculous that simply the thought of seeing George was making her feel so nervous. Still, she took a deep breath and pushed open the door to the discussion room, where everyone congregated for the ward round meetings, only to find George and his team weren’t there.

  ‘Huh.’ She couldn’t help the deflation she felt. Why wasn’t he here? Where was he? Were they still coming for her ward round?

  Several medical students, interns, physiotherapists and nurses turned to look at her expectantly. Some murmured good morning, and Melody politely returned the greeting. There were more people than usual and she frowned, knowing it was due to George. Everyone wanted to learn, watch and absorb everything he did during his time there, and rightly so. It wasn’t every day that visiting professors came to the hospital. It would make for a slower ward round, but it couldn’t be helped. After all, this was a teaching hospital.

  ‘There you are, Melody,’ the CNC said as she came bustling in. ‘I’ve just received a call from Rick, who wanted you to know Professor Wilmont and his team are stuck in traffic.’

  Melody took a deep breath and let it out slowly, thinking fast. She was glad George and his team were OK and that nothing bad had happened to them. ‘Thank you.’ But what should she do now? Should she wait to see if George arrived within the next ten minutes or should she start the round without them? As a general rule, ward round started on time, regardless of who was or wasn’t there. If ward round was late, it meant the catering and cleaning staff would be inconvenienced as it would interfere with their routines, the nursing staff would be running late all day and it also wasn’t fair to the patients.

  Melody followed the clinical nurse consultant back to her desk and reached for the phone. ‘Rick?’ she said a moment later. ‘More information, please.’

  ‘There’s a car crash on Frost Road that’s blocking traffic. Are you goi
ng to wait for them?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Did Carmel give any more details?’

  ‘She said they could be five minutes or five hours. She was sounding pretty stressed.’

  ‘OK. We can’t keep everyone waiting, and if George misses the entire ward round, he can just join tomorrow’s, can’t he?’

  ‘Who are you trying to convince?’ Rick laughed.

  ‘Keep me informed of the situation.’

  ‘Will do.’

  Melody replaced the receiver. ‘Thank you,’ she said to the CNC. ‘I’ll be starting the ward round on time, Sister.’

  ‘Of course, Doctor,’ the CNC replied with a nod. Melody returned to the discussion room, where people were talking quite animatedly about the turn of events. She was swamped with questions as soon as she walked through the door.

  ‘Is Professor Wilmont coming today or not?’ one nurse asked.

  ‘I have no idea. He’s stuck in traffic. We’ll be starting the round on time, though.’

  ‘But you can’t,’ another complained.

  ‘Yeah. This is my day off and I’ve specifically come in to watch him.’

  ‘So have I.’

  ‘I’ve cancelled a meeting,’ someone else said.

  ‘Well, I can’t control peak-hour traffic any more than Professor Wilmont can,’ Melody stated. This was not a good beginning to the day. ‘We’ll be starting the ward round in…’ she glanced at her watch ‘…three minutes. Thank you.’

  She walked out and headed to the ward kitchen. She needed coffee—and fast. She made herself half a cup and drank it down before returning to the discussion room to start the round. As they went from patient to patient, Melody kept checking the doorway, hoping George and his team would arrive.

  They were halfway through the round when she looked up, straight into a pair of brown eyes that instantly melted her insides. George! His silent arrival threw her off guard and she faltered for a second but quickly managed to recover.

  As they moved on to the next patient, Melody took the opportunity of announcing his presence. ‘Glad you could finally make it, Professor Wilmont.’ Several people turned to look at him. He merely nodded, not a smile in sight. ‘I take it this morning’s traffic jam will ensure you don’t forget Sydney in a hurry,’ she said lightly, and a few people chuckled. ‘And now we come to Mrs Hammond. How are you this morning?’ she asked her patient.