by Annie O'Neil
“Ha!” Ty gave her knee a poke. “I see what you did there. In its infancy.”
They laughed at the silly wordplay, each of them visibly relaxing into nerdy science talk. “Anyway...” Kirri forced herself to be completely honest. “I’m struggling with the hydrodrel.”
“The fluid that’s meant to act as an artificial placenta?”
“Exactly.”
They talked through details for a while. Ty was surprisingly knowledgeable on the subject, and also completely unfazed by what had thrown Kirri into a tailspin.
“Listen...” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “This all takes time. I hope you’re not pressuring yourself to have some sort of earth-shattering breakthrough in the next six weeks?”
She swallowed down a big lump in her throat that said, That’s exactly what I’m doing.
Ty’s hand stayed on her shoulder. “You’re here to exchange information with us. Not work yourself to death with worry. We know research takes years. Decades, even.”
“Longer sometimes,” Kirri said, knowing that decades was exactly the sort of timeline she was facing.
Their gazes caught again. Fire flashed through her as the gold flecks in his dark eyes flared. The rest of the world seemed to fade away as Ty reached out and ran a finger along her cheek.
“We’re here to support you. If you take one small step forward, we’ll be thrilled. If you don’t...” He gave a small shrug. “These things happen.”
Kirri couldn’t help herself.
She leant in and kissed him.
It was meant to be a short, thank-you-so-much-you’re-amazing kiss, but the second her lips touched his it became something else entirely. A soft, magical connection.
Both of them pulled back before it could become anything more, but already she knew they had the answer to one unspoken question. They were attracted to each other. Big-time.
She briskly stood up, gave her face a quick swipe with the handkerchief, then clapped her hands together. “Well, on that note, I think I’d better get back to work!”
Ty nodded. Didn’t move from the bench.
His eyes remained on the space she’d just been in.
Kirri didn’t wait for him to say anything. She fled to the lab, vowing she would take that “one small step forward” in the next five weeks if it was the last thing she did.
It was her only choice. Nothing else would keep that kiss from replaying in her mind.
CHAPTER SIX
“WOW. THE BOARD looks chock-a-block today.”
Kirri’s voice swept through Ty’s nervous system like warm honey. It had been a mere twenty-four hours since that rooftop kiss and since then he’d been struggling to think of her in an entirely professional manner.
Not that he’d been all that brilliant in the lead-up to it, but finally touching her, tasting her... It had been like uncorking a bottle of champagne. There was no chance of closing it again.
Like right now, for example. His eyes were glued to hers as if his life depended on it. It was her eyes or her legs, and neither one was giving him any respite from the flares of temptation surging through him every time their paths crossed. But, hell’s teeth. Not one of his employees had ever worn a skirt that showed so little thigh to such excellent effect.
Or maybe he simply hadn’t noticed before. Not the way he noticed Kirri. Her lips, her hair, her legs, her waist. He’d catch just a glimpse and heat would arrow straight below his belt buckle.
Kirri, quite simply, lit him up in a way no one had since Gemma, and if this awkward little exchange was anything to go by he needed to make a decision about what to do about it. Ignore it? He’d never been in this scenario before. Or—perhaps more courageously—maybe agree that Stella was right? His family, too, if the non-stop reminders to bring Kirri along on Saturday for her cooking lesson were anything to go by.
“Dr. Sawyer?” Kirri was looking between him and the tablet he was carrying. “Everything all right?”
“Yes, absolutely. Just—”
Just lost in those sapphire blue eyes of yours again.
Something far too intimate to admit when she was standing crisply before him in a lab coat, all but saluting him.
She’d taken to calling him Dr. Sawyer ever since she’d kissed him. As if that would change the fact he now knew she tasted as sweetly delicate as the light floral perfume she wore. She’d been all sorts of polite since then, in fact, but there was nothing either of them could do about the fact that they’d shared something special.
When she’d kissed him it had been the opposite of a quick peck. They’d exchanged heat and intention in that kiss. As if the universe had orchestrated the whole thing. Ever since then he’d wanted to pull her to him. Explore, taste, touch. But the part of him that had never said goodbye to his wife was keeping him in this holding pattern he didn’t know how to escape.
“Well...” Kirri gave him a curious look, then turned to go. “See you later.”
He didn’t want her to go. She brought a fresh energy to the surgical unit that charged him as much as it did the rest of the staff.
“Do something about it when lightning strikes.”
“It’s twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. But with triplets.”
Kirri turned back around, eyebrows raised. “Oh?”
Fewer than two dozen hospitals in the US did this particular surgery. Far fewer in Australia. Only a handful of surgeons would have had the privilege to perform laser surgery on triplets.
“Boys. Stage four. Apparently they’ve tried some more natural routes. Horizontal rest, nutritional supplements and external laser therapy. But nothing’s worked.”
Her eyes flicked up to the ceiling as she did a quick calculation of her own, then dropped down to meet his. “Amniotic reductions?”
He nodded. “The patient’s regular obstetrician has tried it all. But the condition’s worsened and the triplets are nearly at twenty-five weeks now.”
He tapped on his tablet and showed her the latest scan. She stepped in close enough that he could smell that perfume of hers again. Something sweet and fresh. Jasmine and orange blossom? Grapefruit? His fingers flexed then clenched as he resisted the urge to dip down and inhale from that sweet spot at the base of her neck.
“I see...” Her voice had dropped an octave and her eyes had slipped to half-mast, but they remained linked to his. “Any chance you’ll lose one of the babies?”
“Not on my watch.”
Her tongue swept along her lower lip, unleashing a firestorm of response exactly where he didn’t need any blood flow. Not at this precise minute anyway.
Talking another surgeon through a patient’s history had never felt like flirting before, but this—teasing out the details of the surgery bit by bit, as if describing the way he was going to make love to her later—was ratcheting up the stakes in an entirely different game.
“The mother’s being prepped for surgery now.”
He continued to stare into her eyes, willing some sort of invitation to come out of his mouth as naturally as the way she’d leant forward and kissed him.
That was the crazy thing about it. It had been both a surprise and yet completely expected. As if it were the only thing they could have done. They’d shared something personal. Felt each other’s pain. Soothed the other’s sorrow with a soft, perfect kiss. It had been as organic as if they’d known one another for years.
“This sort of magic rarely happens twice.”
“Would you like to scrub in?”
She tilted her head to the side and gave her lip a bit of a chew. “I was going to grab some lunch from one of the food trucks outside, then head back to the lab...” She flicked her thumb in the direction of the elevators. “Stella says Friday is always a red-letter day for tacos.”
He noticed the light shadows under her eyes. Something told him she been s
leeping as much as he had. Minimally. A sense of protectiveness flared in him. Here she was on the other side of the world, where she didn’t know a soul, pouring herself into her work as if her life depended on it.
If life had taught him anything, it was that every second of every day was precious, and that some of those precious seconds should be spent outside the office.
His family had made that more than clear after Gemma had died. All he’d wanted to do was work. Give all the other mothers a shot at the motherhood his own wife had missed out on. Slowly, but surely his family had pulled his life into balance. It had started with barbecue and bowling. Perhaps that was what Kirri needed. Someone to look out for her. Remind her that non-stop work never gave a person the balance they needed to see the big picture.
“I’ll take you out to eat after.” He glanced at his watch. “Grandma Poppy’s does a mean chicken and waffle plate.”
Kirri gave him a funny look. “That sounds like an odd combination.”
“It’s a don’t-knock-it-till-you-try-it combination. C’mon. Scrub in. We’re doing it under local anesthetic. It’ll take fifteen...thirty minutes, tops.”
He was dangling a carrot and she knew it.
That flash of excitement he’d been hoping for lit up her eyes.
“Go on then. Who needs lunch when there are lives to be saved?”
* * *
True to his word, in less than an hour Kirri and Ty were outside of the Piedmont Women and Baby Pavilion, in front of a colorfully decorated food truck, waiting for their lunches.
Kirri was still charged with the adrenaline that came from a successful surgery, even though she’d only been an observer. It had been absolutely fascinating—and so quick! Ty’s hands were the type that you’d expect from a gifted surgeon. So capable.
Capable of doing a whole lot more than surgery, too, if that single touch of his on the roof was anything to go by.
“Are there any plans to do TTTS laparoscopic surgeries at Harborside?” Ty asked.
He took a sip of his lemonade, then leant against the chunky stone columns that fronted the grand entrance to Piedmont Park.
Kirri took a drink of her icy watermelon juice. “This is amazing.”
It was a dodge and she knew it. They would have been able to offer precisely the same surgery if she had stayed at home and followed her brother’s course of action: surgery only. She’d been offered the chance to train with one of the specialists at a renowned women’s hospital in Melbourne, but she’d been so exhausted from her late nights in the lab that she hadn’t made the time.
She covered her unease about the decision with a forced nonchalant shrug. “There are a couple of hospitals in Sydney who do it, so we refer patients on. Sometimes their surgeons come to us, but ideally we’d love for all these innovative surgical procedures to be entirely in-house. It’s much easier for the patient.”
It was a speech she’d given herself again and again that always ended with the same question: Which patients do you want to help? The ones who need you right now? Or the ones you can help in fifty years’ time? The need to pick an answer and dedicate herself to it was tearing her in two.
“That’s exactly what we feel here at Piedmont.”
The passion in Ty’s voice spoke volumes. This was his life’s work. His calling. Putting A-list surgeons in place to give his patients—both mother and child—the very best chance of survival. He didn’t care if he was the surgeon, though obviously he loved it. His main goal was healthy, happy, unharmed mothers and children.
It was a similar remit at the Harborside Fertility and Neonatal Clinic, but in truth the bulk of its renown came from her brother’s “Baby Whisperer” status, and as such most of their clients were there for fertility services before moving on to other hospitals once they’d become pregnant. Unless, of course, there were complications. Complications like those she’d tasked herself with sorting out.
Somewhere, buried under a pile of insecurities, she knew she had her own plaudits, but ever since she’d heard about this line of research back in med school she’d decided the only way to bring true validation to herself as an “incomplete woman” was to move artificial uterus research on to the next level.
“Dr. Sawyer!” Grandma Poppy called them over from the shady spot she’d parked the truck in. “C’mon over here, darlin’. I’ve got your food ready.”
Kirri was relieved for the opportunity to change the conversation to food.
“There are some covered picnic tables over there.” Ty nodded to a few tables dotted along the edge of a pretty little pond. “Shall we?”
Kirri took her white to-go box from Grandma Poppy. The tangy scent of tomato and spice wafted up to her.
“You’ll want to pick up some napkins, too, honey.” Grandma Poppy nodded at Ty, who was collecting a few ketchup packets, then leant down and whispered conspiratorially, “Unless you have another way of getting that sauce off your lips.”
Kirri flushed deep red.
“Oh, honey. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” She gave Kirri a naughty wink. “You make sure you eat those wings of yours real messy.”
Kirri could only nod, then run away. She silently followed Ty, who mercifully hadn’t heard the exchange.
Of course she’d thought about kissing him again. It was one of the reasons she’d burnt the midnight oil in the lab last night. If she’d gone to bed without exhaustion to plummet her into a dreamless sleep she knew fantasy would have been only a few easy blinks of the eye away. And that way danger lay.
She gave Ty a sidelong glance. She wondered if “The Rooftop Incident” was seared at the forefront of his mind as well. Kissing him virtually out of the blue! What had she been thinking?
Of his lips, obviously. Or, if she was being kinder to herself, of comforting him. Not that it was her normal modus operandi, but she’d been moved by how deeply he had been affected by his patient’s loss, and doubly touched by the generosity of his attitude toward her research. Inviting her to his surgery today and then taking her out for lunch were both thoughtful and generous too. Signs of a man who, against the odds, liked to stop and smell the roses.
After she’d had a few bites of her delicious lunch—a basket loaded with spicy chicken wings, mini-waffles and coleslaw—she asked, “Had you done the TTTS before? With triplets?”
“It was a first for me.” Ty picked up his enormous fried chicken salad sandwich and eyed it for the best line of attack. “Kind of fun to do it in front of someone who was so appreciative.”
“It was amazing. I really should’ve taken up an offer I had to learn the technique, but...” She held up her hands. “Time. There never seems to be enough of it.”
“I hear you.” Ty took a thoughtful bite of his sandwich, then asked, “I’ve been meaning to ask how you manage to maintain a full surgical load in Sydney as well as do your research.”
Her mouth wasn’t full, but she swallowed anyway. This was precisely the bone of contention she had with her brother.
She took a risk and told him the truth. “I don’t, really.”
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I do surgery during the day and at night and weekends I do my research.” She laughed. “If you knew what my ‘lab’ looked like you’d howl with laughter.”
“Try me.”
Ty looked like he meant it, so Kirri told him something she would never tell anyone at home because—well, because reputation was everything to the Wests.
“It’s an old storage cupboard.”
Ty blinked his surprise but said nothing.
Kirri barreled on. “It’s not Lucius’s fault. He’s so busy with the clinic that research in my area isn’t really his thing. As you know, he’s the king of all things fertility.”
“Yes. Amanda, our top delivery nurse, is really looking forward to doing her exchange t
here.”
“She should be. Did you know they’ve got a way to select embryos with AI now? It’s totally amazing. A game-changer in the IVF world.”
Ty nodded, took a bite of his pickle, then said, “It sounds as though your research isn’t important to Harborside.”
Her heart squeezed tight. It really wasn’t. But not for the reasons Ty might think. “Yeah, well... I suppose something’s got to take priority.”
“Why can’t they have equal weight? It’s your clinic, too, isn’t it?”
“Ha! No! Lucius is the driving force with the clinic. I’m just along for the ride.”
Ty looked genuinely shocked. “Is that how you see yourself? As a freeloader?”
“My brother definitely does.”
She clamped her hand over her mouth. That wasn’t news for public consumption. Especially seeing as Lucius was having one of Ty’s staff for an exchange in a few months’ time.
Ty shook his head. “I can’t believe that. Not with your surgical background.”
She backtracked. “He’s a true champion of my surgical time. But when it comes to my research all Lucius sees is his kid sister bouncing around in cloud cuckoo land.”
“I doubt that.”
Kirri snorted. “I wouldn’t be so sure.” She chewed on her lip for a minute, then said, “He’s pulled the plug on it.”
Ty stilled for a moment, then asked, “Any particular reason why?”
“He says my goals are unrealistic.”
“What are your goals?”
To do the impossible. To fill the void that comes from never being able to have a child of my own.
“I want to do surgery half the time and research half the time. But the clinic can’t afford that, so I do research on my own time and surgery full-time.”
“No breaks?”
“No life to break for,” she admitted.
Ty nodded, non-judgmental as ever. He was a very good listener. A part of her wondered if she’d be here if she had actually tried talking to Lucius rather than jumping on the first available plane. The other part knew that the Wests didn’t talk. They pushed themselves to excel.
