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‘I’ll make the first burr-hole,’ Ben said as he was handed the air-powered burr, ‘and you can do the second, but I’ll guide your hand to prevent you from inadvertently pushing too hard.’
Georgie held her breath as his gloved hands came over hers, the strength in his finge
rs making her stomach and legs go all wobbly. She could smell the warmth of his body, the hint of musky perspiration, not unpleasant but instead disturbingly attractive.
He was not as old as she’d been expecting. It was daft of her really but she was so used to her father’s generation of neurosurgical colleagues that she hadn’t factored in the possibility that she would be working alongside a man in his early to mid-thirties. It was hard to tell his exact age but she reasoned he’d have to be at least thirty-four or -five to have completed his training and developed the reputation he had for research.
Georgie also hadn’t realised that morning, when he’d been sprawled on the road, how very tall he was. She had vaguely registered his long legs and arms as she had tended to his injuries earlier, but standing so close to him now she could feel his broad chest against her shoulder, which meant he must be more than six feet, possibly three or four inches over, at the very least.
She had, however, noticed his jet-black hair when she’d taken his helmet off and the olive tan of his skin, not to mention the toned muscles of his lean body that suggested he was more than a casual exerciser, which was impressive really when she considered the long hours he worked.
Georgie still couldn’t quite believe he hadn’t yet referred to their accidental meeting that morning. She had seen some speculative looks coming from the scrub nurse from time to time, but he had remained totally focussed on the patient, his movements steady and controlled, his voice and manner giving no clue as to what had transpired between them a little over an hour ago.
She gave herself a quick mental shake and brought her attention back to the operation where Ben was showing her how to incise the dura without damaging the underlying brain, and within a few minutes the meningioma was exposed.
Removal of the benign tumour seemed very straightforward, although Georgie could see that this was because of Ben’s skill and experience, not because the procedure was easy—he just seemed to make it look that way. Within an hour the skull flap had been turned back, the scalp stapled and the head dressed.
Ben stripped off his gloves and tossed them into the bin as he turned to face the new registrar once the rest of the routine list was over. ‘I would like a few words with you in my office.’
She ran the tip of her tongue across her full, shapely lips. ‘N-now?’ she asked in a squeaky voice.
‘Yes, now,’ he said with a hint of mockery in his eyes as they held hers. ‘Or do you have something else you need to do right this minute?’
She shifted from foot to foot, her creamy cheeks faintly coloured with a rosy hue. ‘Um … I was just going to go to the bathroom to … to freshen up …’
Ben had to fight the urge not to roll his eyes. ‘Well, once you’ve touched up your lipstick or whatever it is you’re going to do, perhaps you’d care to join me so we can discuss the details of your research project for this year.’
She straightened her shoulders and sent him a toffee-brown glare. ‘I’m not wearing lipstick, Mr Blackwood,’ she said a little tightly.
Ben felt the corners of his mouth turn up at her little show of defiance. Maybe she had a bit of the old guy in her after all, he thought, although she certainly didn’t look anything like him. Her slender frame was athletic but utterly feminine, her lightly tanned skin smooth and her light brown hair with its natural-looking golden highlights a perfect foil for those big brown Bambi-like eyes of hers. Her mouth was pulled a little tight right now, but earlier he’d noticed the soft plumpness of her lips when her small white but perfect teeth had sunk into them.
Yep, she was cute all right but she damned well could have killed him and he wasn’t going to let her off that easily.
‘Right, then,’ he said as he moved past, ‘I’ll be waiting for you in my office.’
‘Don’t worry about Mr Blackwood,’ Linda said to Georgie in the theatre change room a short time later. ‘He’s had a bit of a rough start to the day. He’s normally very affable. He’s everyone’s favourite. There’s actually a staff waiting list to work in his theatre. That’s very unusual for a neurosurgical theatre, I can tell you.’ She bundled her theatre scrubs and tossed them in the laundry bin as she went on, ‘Apparently some crazy woman knocked him off his bike this morning. It was a miracle he wasn’t badly injured.’
Georgie swallowed and concentrated fiercely on washing her hands. ‘That’s … er … awful,’ she said.
‘I’ve been warning him for years about cycling on city streets,’ Linda said as she stretched her lips to apply lipstick. She recapped the tube and added, ‘We had a hit-and-run death a few weeks back. The paramedics did all they could to save him but he died in A and E from his head injuries. One of the nurses went on stress leave as a result. Her son was the same age.’
Georgie ran her tongue over her dry-as-dust lips. ‘Mr Blackwood’s … er … accident wasn’t a hit and run, though, was it?’
‘No, thank God,’ Linda said, and, picking up her bag, gave Georgie a friendly smile. ‘Ben’s a real softie. And you wear all the lipstick you like, my girl. What that boy needs is to take his mind off work for a change. A hospital romance is just what this place needs to liven things up a bit.’
Georgie tossed her head as she turned from the basin. ‘I’m not interested in anything but my career,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I’ve taken a temporary no-dating pact with my flatmate Rhiannon. If either one of us breaks, we have to pay the other a thousand dollars.’
Linda pushed open the door. ‘Then you’d better start saving, Dr Willoughby,’ she said with a gleaming smile. ‘I don’t like your chances.’
Georgie turned to look at her reflection in the mirror once the scrub nurse had left. ‘We’ll see about that,’ she said, and, giving her head another toss, walked out to where she had seen Mr Blackwood’s name on a door down the corridor.
The door was ajar but she knocked anyway and waited for his command to come in.
‘You can close the door after you,’ he said as she entered the small office.
Georgie closed the door with a little click and walked the short distance to his desk where he was sitting with some papers in front of him. She noticed his dark blue gaze dip to her mouth and her resentment rose like a flash flood inside her. So he thought she was an empty-headed bimbo who had nothing better to do that paint her mouth with lipstick, did he?
‘So,’ he drawled, leaning back in his chair in an indolent manner. ‘Who taught you to drive? Your mother or your father?’
