Falling for her Mediterranean Boss. Anne Fraser
Читать онлайн книгу.
at her almost indecent haste to get away.
‘Thank you for the lift,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you later this morning.’ Without waiting for a reply, she turned and was relieved when she heard his car roar off into the night.
Pierre felt strangely unsettled as he drove home. Stopping at a traffic light, his eyes caught an enormous billboard straddling the pavement. The woman advertising a famous make of bath soap reminded him of someone. Almost at once he realised who—Julie. The model had the same glossy-brown hair, sweet smile and charcoal smudged grey eyes radiating warmth, compassion and intelligence.
He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes. Dr Julie McKenzie was brave and cool under pressure, qualities he knew were important in a surgeon, but it was the Julie the woman who intrigued him most. She seemed oblivious to how beautiful she was, even with the scar. Instead, she came across as shy and uncertain of herself as a woman. He couldn’t help recalling the way she had blushed in his company. Had she’d been anyone else he would have felt flattered, even been tempted to show her how attractive she was. But she wasn’t just anyone, he reminded himself. She was his colleague, his junior colleague, and therefore out of bounds. An affair with her was completely out of the question. And not just because she was a colleague but because he guessed she was not someone who would take any relationship lightly. For him, the only relationships he liked were the casual ones. All his lovers knew that. At least he assumed they all did. Until Monique, that was. She had chosen not to believe him even though he had made his position clear right at the start of their relationship. But when he had told her it was over, after it had run its course, she had been devastated and furious. After the most embarrassing scene he had sworn he would never get involved with a colleague again.
It was a pity about Julie, he thought. He had enough of experience of women to suspect that underneath that shy exterior lay a woman of passion. Not that she was really his type. Not even remotely. Why, then, did the knowledge that Julie was off limits leave him feeling bleaker than ever?
Julie yawned as she poured herself another cup of coffee in the duty room. She finished looking over her patients’ charts as the other staff gathered together.
‘He’s gorgeous,’ one of the staff nurses was saying to her colleagues. ‘And as for that accent…’ She shivered with delight. ‘He could have his wicked way with me any time.’
Despite herself, Julie felt her ears prick up. It was obvious who they were talking about.
‘You’ll need to get in line, then,’ Dr Cramond, one of the other junior doctors, replied.
She, unlike Julie, was pretty in that doll-like way most men seemed to admire. She was probably just Pierre’s type, Julie thought, trying to ignore how envious the thought made her.
‘Do you think he’s attached, Julie?’ Dr Cramond asked.
‘Not a clue,’ said Julie, returning to her notes. She really didn’t want to be drawn into a discussion about Pierre with her new colleagues. Even if it made her seem a little standoffish.
‘Bound to be,’ said the nurse, a friendly looking woman with glossy black hair who had introduced herself as Fiona. ‘Very likely he has someone back in France.’
‘But I gather he’s not married,’ Dr Cramond said wistfully, ‘so as far as I am concerned that makes him fair game.’
They stopped talking abruptly when the man himself walked into the duty room. Dressed in a dark grey suit that must have cost an arm and a leg, clean shaven and with just a hint of aftershave, Julie was struck again by his model good looks. He wouldn’t look out of place on the cover of a magazine.
Julie replaced her cup and scrambled hastily to her feet.
‘Good morning, Dr Favatier,’ she said.
‘Bonjour,’ he replied. He glanced down at the sheaf of notes he held in his hand. ‘Shall we get started?’
‘Have you heard how our patient from last night is doing?’ she asked as she and Fiona accompanied him across the ward.
‘I saw him in Intensive Care this morning,’ Pierre answered. ‘He’s stable. I plan to take him to Theatre later this morning. We’ll go and see him again after rounds. But first let’s see our elective patients.’
Pierre walked over to the first patient, a lady in her early sixties with short grey hair and a ready, if lopsided smile. ‘Bonjour, Madame Tulloch,’ Pierre greeted her with a broad grin. ‘I gather you know Staff Nurse already?’ he said, indicating Fiona. ‘And this is Dr McKenzie, who will be helping me look after you.’
‘Good morning, Dr Favatier. It’s nice to see you again, and to meet you, Dr McKenzie,’ Mrs Tulloch responded. Despite her smile, Julie could say traces of anxiety in her faded blue eyes.
‘Could you remind us of this lady’s history, Dr McKenzie?’ Pierre asked.
Julie had made sure that she had read up on all the patients earlier, having arrived at seven to give herself enough time.
‘Mrs Tulloch saw her dentist for a routine check-up six months ago and he discovered a suspect growth on her jaw bone. He referred her to the surgeons, who identified a tumour. The surgeons removed the tumour and a piece of bone was taken from the left hip and grafted onto the jawbone. Mrs Tulloch has had two rounds of radiotherapy and is doing well, apart from some difficulty with speaking and swallowing.’
Pierre nodded approvingly. ‘Well done, Dr McKenzie. Brief and to the point.’ he said.
‘Mrs Tulloch is scheduled for Theatre this morning,’ Julie finished.
‘How are you feeling, Mrs Tulloch?’ Pierre asked the woman, who had been listening intently to Julie’s résumé of her condition.
‘I feel fine,’ she said. ‘A little anxious perhaps, but otherwise fine.’ Although her words were slurred, Julie could understand her perfectly.
‘You know we are planning to operate today?’ Pierre told the woman. ‘And while you might not get a full return of movement to your mouth, I am hoping for a great improvement.’ He traced a gentle finger down her line of her jaw. ‘We should also be able to improve the way the scar is pulling down the right side of your mouth.’
‘It’s not so much the way it makes me look,’ Mrs Tulloch said. ‘I know I should be grateful the operation was a success and I am grateful. It’s just that it makes my speech and eating so awkward.’
Pierre turned to Julie, ‘What do you think, Dr McKenzie?’
Julie bent over Mrs Tulloch. She asked her a few questions then, with the patient’s permission, gently examined her jaw. The incision had healed well, but the scar tissue puckered the skin, pulling the mouth out of shape.
‘Looks like Mrs Tulloch has made a good recovery from her initial surgery,’ she said. Pierre passed her the X-ray, which clearly illuminated the tumour prior to surgery. He then passed her another film, which showed the jaw bone with the tumour removed and the grafted piece of bone.
‘You were lucky that this was caught when it was.’ Julie smiled down at the woman. ‘And it looks as if the replaced bone in your jaw has healed well.’
‘I do feel lucky. If I hadn’t gone to the dentist that week…I nearly didn’t, you know—too much going on—and if he hadn’t been suspicious, it could have been a different story.’
‘But it wasn’t. It was caught it in time, and we’ll soon have you looking as close to how you looked before. I can see you were a very attractive woman.’ Pierre grinned at his patient.
Goodness! Julie thought. Did he flirt with everyone?
Mrs Tulloch smiled back crookedly. ‘A long time ago perhaps, Dr Favatier. But it would be nice to look more normal again.’
With a few more words of reassurance Pierre moved away from the bedside and explained to Julie what they were planning