by Annie O'Neil
“Crikey. Dr. West’s too formal for me!” Kirri laughed, but knew there was a bit of an edge to her narrowed eyes.
* * *
Ty had known in an instant he hadn’t needed to tell Kirrily West off. Something about the way her eyes had blazed when he’d made his ridiculous “hierarchy” speech told him she was the sort who’d be beating herself up about it for ages without him fanning the flames.
“Call me Kirri,” she said pointedly. “Not as awful as Kirrily. I’ve always thought it sounds a bit like a rash, doesn’t it?”
Hardly. More like the trill of a songbird, Ty thought, wishing like hell he hadn’t gone all speechy. It wasn’t his style. Nothing he was doing around this woman was his style.
“Right!” He clapped his hands again. Too loudly. “Let’s get you to work.”
Ty mentally kicked himself as he led her into the lab. Maybe he was the one who could do with keeping his mouth shut.
Watching Kirri introduce herself to the team in the research lab was like watching a peach tree break through the floor and blossom right in front of his eyes. Life where he hadn’t imagined it possible.
Not that Ty’s team weren’t amazing. They were. Their hard graft and scientific know-how were at the heart of many a so-called “medical miracle”. They were just...well, quiet.
“G’day.”
She held out her hand and beamed at one of the lab-coat-wearing researchers. Malachy. The older gent was unbelievably intelligent and incredibly shy.
She pumped his hand up and down. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kirri. It’s short for Kirrily, but Kirrily sounds a bit girly, doesn’t it?” She skimmed her hands along her scrubs, as if she were a tomboy rather than a stand-in for a nineteen-fifties pin-up. “Not exactly girly material, am I?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She just laughed and moved on to the next person as Malachy nodded and gave a dazed smile, clearly as awestruck as Jose before him, who’d reacted in pretty much the same way. Open-jawed. A bit overwhelmed. Not at all under the impression she was a tomboy. Nathan was busily cleaning his specs. Fogged up, most likely.
All sorts of uninvited feelings were careening round Ty’s chest as Kirri worked her way round the room, her blue eyes occasionally flicking back, a bit nervously, to meet his. Admiration. Excitement. Disappointment. That last one was just for him, though.
He didn’t like it that the one person in the room she was nervous of was him. Sure, she’d made a bit of a hash of things back in the OR, but it wasn’t anything that he hadn’t been able to fix. There’d been no need for him to go all icy and withdrawn. It definitely wasn’t in his nature to be so cool, and he already knew he’d be getting an earful from the surgical nurses about not making her feel more welcome.
Apart from when she was around him, she didn’t seem to have a shy bone in her body. She asked people who they were, what projects they were working on, begged permission to read all their papers so that she could be on the same page as everyone else.
If hurricanes were something you could wish for, and came in the form of a beautiful woman who could work a room like a successful ice salesman in Alaska, this was Hurricane Kirrily in action.
Little wonder he’d felt blindsided when she’d swept into his OR with all that vitality. She’d reminded him of how he’d once been. Bursting with enthusiasm. Keen to make not only a good impression but the best impression. Feeling the sting when he was put in his place.
She’d come here seeking what he had wanted when he and his co-founder had set up the Piedmont Women and Baby Pavilion: a place where imagining the impossible was encouraged.
He stuffed his hand through his short hair and gave the nape of his neck a rough scrub. He’d been wrong to be so curt. To tamp her very clear passion for medicine. It was either envy or attraction that had made him behave like an ass. Or both. Not an easy pill to swallow when there were six more weeks of it to come.
Ty glanced down the corridor toward the stairwell. He had a full roster of patients today, and as everyone was used to him sticking his nose to the grindstone and then haring off late afternoon to meet up with his number one girl, today would be no different.
Except it already was.
He’d handed his umbrella to a complete stranger because he’d felt something he thought he’d never feel again. Connection. There’d been something in Kirri’s eyes that had touched him. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but whatever it was it had felt like hope.
He looked out the window, beyond the leafy presence of Piedmont Park, and pictured his little girl swinging from the climbing frame or whooshing down the slide in her school playground. Tallulah. His six-year-old. Fearless, a powerhouse. She had a nickname, too. Lulu. Not that having nicknames meant anything. It was hardly a sign.
“You’ll know, sweetheart. It may take a while, but you’ll know. And for heaven’s sake do something about it when lightning strikes. Our sort of magic rarely comes along twice.”
His wife’s words hit him straight in the solar plexus. It was the first time in years he’d remembered her saying them at all. He’d played them over and over when she’d first passed away—mostly because the idea that he’d find someone else to love the way he’d loved her had seemed impossible—but, as time had gone on he’d come to believe that she’d been wrong.
He wouldn’t find love again. Not like that.
Gemma had been the love of his life. Cancer had taken her just short of five years ago, and the only love he experienced now was the fierce, protective love between a father and a daughter. And the love of his family, of course.
His four sisters and his parents had all but moved in with him after Gemma had died. Gradually they’d left him and Lulu to it, but they were still in and out of each other’s homes so often they might as well all live together.
Loving them was enough. More than enough. Had been for the past five years, anyway. He wasn’t experiencing a hurricane. Or a sea-change. Just a spring shower with an unexpected twist. Handing a rain-drenched woman an umbrella was hardly the beginning of a journey down the aisle.
“What do you think, Dr. Sawyer?”
Ty looked back into the room and realized half of the researchers in the lab—and, more to the point, Kirri—were staring at him.
“I beg your pardon. What was the question?”
Kirri gave an embarrassed laugh. “See? Didn’t I tell you I keep putting my foot in it with the poor man! And now here’s me throwing a spotlight on it.” She turned to him and explained. “I was telling everyone that I looked like a drowned rat when I met you and you were a real-life Prince Charming.”
She bit down on her lip. Hard. As if she hadn’t meant to describe the scenario in quite that way.
When he didn’t say anything she pressed on. “C’mon. Help me out, here. I’m really digging a hole for myself. You know...?” she prompted gently, a hint of warmth pinking up her cheeks. “With the umbrella? It was the icing on the cake.”
“What cake?” Now he was properly confused.
“Getting the offer to join your brain trust for the next six weeks!” She said it as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.
Again he said nothing.
“Right! My chatterbox tendencies clearly need to be curbed.” She gave her hands a swift rub. “What do you say someone shows me some desk space so I can find some room for my womb?”
Ty took that as his cue to leave.
* * *
Kirri blinked at the empty spot that had been filled by Ty.
Um... Okay...
“Does he always do that?”
“What’s that, honey?” asked Gloria, a wonderfully warm African American woman with a slow drawl.
“Disappear.”
She had been hoping to apologize for being such a nincompoop in surgery before he left. And for the Prince Charming comment. At this rate
she’d have a rather long list.
Gloria batted her hand at the empty doorframe. “Oh, don’t you worry about him, honey. He’s delighted to have you here—he’s just shy.”
“That’s one way to put it,” said one of the men in a white lab coat. Malachy, was it?
“He’s not shy—he was just distracted.”
Yet another piped up. “He probably got a page. The OR is booked all day today.”
Then the conversation took off in all sorts of directions until the entire population of the lab—about eight of them—were staring at the empty doorway in consternated silence. A silence only Gloria seemed brave enough to break.
“Mind you... I’ve never seen him like that.”
“Like what?” Kirri was enjoying this more than she should. But getting the low-down on her new boss was a whole jar full of awesome sauce from where she was standing.
“Tongue-tied,” said Malachy.
Gloria nodded in agreement.
“He isn’t exactly a Chatty Kathy at the best of times,” piped up another woman, Leigh, as she wheeled her chair over to a row of test tubes. “But it’s true. He’s normally not so...mute.” She shrugged, then tipped her head to a microscope. “Maybe he’s got a lot on his mind. It’s been a busy week. And next week’s even crazier, if what Stella was saying is anything to go by.”
“Who’s Stella?” Kirri asked.
“Surgical nurse,” they all answered.
“She was probably in there with you today,” one of them tacked on.
Kirri was about to quiz them about the surgeries Ty would be doing when Gloria patted the desk.
“Why don’t you put your bag down here and we can take you on a proper tour of the lab. We’re all real excited to hear more about your research. And, of course, show you our baby.”
Kirri grinned. “You mean the 3D printer?”
Gloria’s smile shot from ear to ear. “We didn’t think you’d flown round the world just to look into some Petri dish.”
Kirri felt an instant camaraderie with the group. Petri dishes had their place in the world of research...but 3D printers? They offered a gateway into modern medicine few things could.
She unshouldered her backpack, looked round the room and grinned. “I can’t believe I’m actually here.”
“Dr. Sawyer is a champion of innovative medicine,” said Nathan. “So, like you said, he’s a real knight in shining armor. For this kind of stuff anyway.”
He abruptly turned to his lab table and started scribbling down some notes.
Gloria shook her head and laughed. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to us all soon enough. C’mon, honey. Why don’t we go and get you a cup of coffee or tea or something? And then you can tell me all about this baby grow bag of yours.”
Kirri threw back her head and laughed. “That’s a brilliant way to describe it. Much better than womb on a chip.”
They walked and talked their way out of the lab to a small kitchen area, where some coffee was just being brewed.
“And this has nothing to do with artificial womb technology?” Gloria asked.
“No,” Kirri said solidly. “I’m sure you know as well as I do that elements of AWT are mired in all sorts of ethical and moral dilemmas that’ll take years, probably decades, to resolve. That’s why sticking with the purely biochemical elements of helping premature babies survive seems to be the fastest route to making an impact.”
Gloria gave her a sidelong look. “But you’re not expecting any sort of major breakthrough over the next few weeks, are you, sugar?”
“Oh, no!” Kirri lied. “I’m just here to spread my wings.”
And totally to have a breakthrough.
It was the only way she could garner some attention for her own rather primitive research lab and get some funding back in Oz.
“Good call,” Gloria said, pulling mugs down from the cupboard and pouring them both a cup of steaming coffee. “Dr. Sawyer is real supportive of that sort of approach. His specialty is, of course, surgery. But he’s a firm believer in investing in innovation.”
“Any particular reason why?”
Gloria looked at her as if she was crazy. “He’s Dr. Cutting Edge! He got that way by going out on his own. Taking huge risks not many doctors would take. He wants to help folk who can see a reality that other people can’t. There’s a line a mile long to work in this lab. You’re a lucky woman being eagle-eyed by Ty.”
Interesting... So Ty was a surgical maverick? Having watched him today, it was clear he was highly trained in classical surgical styles. So much so it made her itch to learn from him. See the fetal surgical world through his eyes.
Gloria handed her a mug. “So. Give me the elevator pitch for this grow bag of yours.”
“Well, first of all, I’m stealing that description.” Kirri grinned. “Let’s see... If it was a longish elevator ride, I suppose it’d go something like this: imagine a 3D printed womblike environment, hosted by a microfluidic cell culture chip that would ultimately serve as a replacement for an incubator.”
“Good...” Gloria nodded. “And how would you explain that to the layman?”
Kirri took a sip of hot coffee, thought for a moment, then said, “The baby grow bag will revolutionize survival rates in premature births and help expectant mothers’ health.”
Gloria gave her a satisfied nod. “I look forward to being a part of that.” She lifted her coffee mug to Kirri’s and toasted her. “Welcome aboard, Kirri. May your research be fruitful. And don’t you pay no mind to Dr. Sawyer. His head is always off and away somewhere. Unless he’s in surgery, of course. And then he’s your man.”
She gave Kirri a little wink, then set off back down the corridor as if she knew a secret she wasn’t yet ready to tell.
Her man.
The phrase knocked around her chest along with a strangely weighted sense of longing.
She’d had a man about six years ago. One she’d thought she’d spend the rest of her life with...right up until he’d dropped her like a hot potato.
He’d wanted children. She’d waited too long to tell him she would never be able to give him children of his own. When she finally had it had been as if he’d flicked a switch on his heart and turned glacially cold.
For the first and last time in her life she’d lowered herself to begging. Said she’d do anything to keep the relationship going. Adopt. Foster. IVF or a surrogate. But he’d lashed out and told her she’d never be fit to be a parent. Not with her compulsive need to be on a professional par with her brother.
He’d said it as if wanting to be the best was a bad thing! As if being on a par with Lucius was an impossible dream. It had been a cruel comment he had known would speak to the little girl in her who knew she’d never please her father.
She took a sip of scalding coffee and let the sensation burn away the all too familiar waves of emptiness as she headed back to the lab.
No point in worrying about it now. Her role in life was to help other women who could have babies. Women who could lead the life she’d always imagined having herself. And the only way she was going to do that and survive was by being at the top of her game.
CHAPTER THREE
THREE DAYS LATER and Kirri was finally opening her eyes at the right time in the morning. The scent of brewing coffee might have had something to do with that.
Coffee makers with a timer. Who knew?
Apart from utterly humiliating herself in front of Ty on day one, she was absolutely loving it here. There was a freedom in not being Lucius West’s kid sister that felt positively liberating. Everywhere she went, she was just a girl in the crowd. A chick in a lab coat. No one to prove anything to—except for one deeply gorgeous, dark-eyed doctor.
She had a lot to prove to Dr. Ty Sawyer. The man had invested quite a chunk of money in her. In her brain, anyway. Not that h
e’d exactly been hovering over her in the lab, or anything. She’d barely seen him since Prince Charming-gate. Then again, it had been the weekend. Some people actually had lives.
Some people had someone to go home to.
She shook the thought away and re-centered herself. She wasn’t here to flirt. She was here to work.
Speaking of which... She glanced at the bedside clock. Time to get up and get on the road.
She rolled up and out of bed. The beautiful condo the clinic had provided her with was an amazing place to call home for the next few weeks. All glass and steel—a bit like the Medical Innovations Center—the corner apartment offered stunning views of central Atlanta and beyond.
If they wanted the place to act as an advertisement for the sprawling southern city it was working. Beautiful sunrises and sunsets... The lush surroundings of Piedmont Park in the heart of Atlanta...
Not that she’d seen much of the city center yet. She’d spent the weekend making good on her promise to read up on all the lab’s projects. It was going to be a fascinating place to work. They were exploring every area of fetal development and beyond, and didn’t seem shy of confronting wide-ranging and complicated issues like neonatal abstinence syndrome, fathers’ stress in NICUs, oxygen physiology and just about everything else under the rainbow so long as it offered preterm neonates a better chance of survival.
She took a slug of hot coffee, stared out the window toward the clinic and gave a wistful sigh.
No doubt about it. She’d been hit by the “new crush” bucket. Ty Sawyer had certainly made an impact. Literally and figuratively.
What an absolute dill she’d been.
Room for my womb?
What had she been thinking?
Very little, obviously.
Weekend aside, she’d barely seen him since he’d fled the research lab.
Her more practical side told her it was time to shake off that particularly large chip on her shoulder. So what if he hadn’t sat down with her to go through her research? It had been three measly days. Not checking up on her showed faith. Belief that she could get on with it on her own. Pragmatism.
