The Rebel Doc. Susan Carlisle
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a decent teacher, taking time to explain to everyone exactly what he was doing—which really was amazing. Keyhole surgery was detailed, precise and very, very clever.
Okay, so she’d misjudged him. He was not narcissistic when it mattered, he was giving of himself to his patients and to the assistants. But he was still annoying. And sexy. And had she mentioned annoying? ‘We need to divide the adrenal vein so it is the optimal length for transplantation …’
She focused on the music because his running commentary was making her feel slightly woozy. Or maybe it was the heat in the room. Her gaze drifted over to him again, down his mask-covered face to his throat. The V of skin visible on his broad chest was suntanned, his forearm muscles contracting and stretching as he worked.
He stopped and arched his back, checked the screen, and, as he dipped his head to resume his work, he caught her eye. She could tell by the crinkles at his temples that he was smiling—what kind of a smile it was, she didn’t know. She didn’t want to. Just one look at those eyes made her gut contract in a sizzling, heat-filled clutch. She wondered what it would be like to wake up to those eyes, that skin … Or what would have happened in that lift yesterday if she hadn’t pulled away.
She was darned glad she had pulled away … frustrated, but glad.
But what if she hadn’t? Would he have kissed her? And why? Why her when there were so many beautiful women for him to kiss?
My God. Her mouth dried. She couldn’t be thinking like that. She couldn’t be imagining what it would be like to have Matteo touch her. To kiss him … Not when someone’s life was on the line—although, thank goodness, not in her hands.
Not at all. She wasn’t the kind of girl to have flings and she didn’t want anything else. Didn’t even want a fling … unless …
No. Not a fling. Not with Matteo damned Finelli.
She felt her cheeks heat, shook her head to clear her mind and realised it took longer than normal for her vision to catch up. Nausea ripped through her, rising up her gut. She focused on his hands. Hands that were red with blood now. Thick and red … and … The heat in the room was toxic … and she felt cold and hot … and she could feel the blood drain from her face …
‘So you are with us again? That is good.’ Matteo tapped Ivy’s hand with as little force as he dared muster, but enough that she’d at least open her eyes. She looked so pale, so young lying on the trolley covered with a blanket. And as she was his responsibility in the OR he’d deemed it only right to check on her. That’s what he told himself anyway as she stared at him, her cheeks reddening. She started to sit up but he coaxed her back down. ‘Lie still. Your blood pressure dropped and you fainted. Are you feeling okay?’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Please, go in and finish the operation. Leave me here.’ Her eyelids fluttered closed, more, he figured, out of embarrassment than feeling faint again.
People fainted in the OR on a regular basis. Nothing extraordinary. Except that this time had been the first and only time he’d felt a need to barge in and carry the victim out. But even though he had stood there helplessly as she’d fallen to the floor he’d known that he was not in a position to run to her—no matter what. His patient was his first priority. ‘It is all done—it takes more than a vaso-vagal to make me leave someone on the table. You were well cared for by the recovery nurses?’
She gave him a smile. ‘Yes. And I’m so sorry I took up their valuable time. It wasn’t necessary and neither is this visit. You’re busy.’
‘Nonsense. I have ten minutes before I go into the transplant. I thought I’d better check on my unexpected patient.’
She twisted to sit up, ignoring any attempt to keep her out of harm’s way. ‘You didn’t need to. Honestly. No one should have looked after me. I’d have been fine.’
‘Oh, yes, we always leave the sick ones scattered across the OR floor like the battlefield wounded. We just step over them, like little human hurdles whenever we need to move around the room. Did you have breakfast this morning?’
‘Yes.’ Which was contrary to what he’d assumed and didn’t explain why a strong woman like Ivy would faint. ‘A little.’
‘So you fell over. Why?’
She shrugged. ‘It was hot.’
‘We were all hot, it gets like that. The air-conditioning is faulty—just another thing to add to my wish-list.’ Maybe it had had something to do with her leg. Maybe she’d been in pain? Pazzo, he berated himself. Idiot. There he’d been playing games with her and she’d been unable to stand for so long. Physically unable to, for whatever reason. And he didn’t want to pry into something that wasn’t his business. But … ‘It was something more, I think.’
She looked like she was debating how to answer. ‘Okay. Yes.’
He waited for her to elucidate. ‘And …?’
‘I think I overdosed on rescue sweets.’
‘What?’ He had not been expecting that. He held back a laugh because he could see she was serious. ‘Rescue sweets? Really? You were nervous about the operation? And be honest. You have the kind of face that gives away all your emotions.’
‘That is not what someone of my profession wants to hear.’ She seemed to fold a little. ‘It’s not my usual workplace, is it?’
‘Which isn’t an admission of nerves, just a statement of fact.’ Ever the lawyer. ‘Were you scared?’
‘No comment.’ But her eyes dipped down and he knew he had her answer.
‘So yes. What of?’
‘No comment.’
‘Which might work in the courts, Ivy, but won’t stop me asking the questions. This is my domain now, not yours. You have a phobia? Needles? Blood? People?’ Me? That thought made him smile even more. Because he had no doubt that Ivy believed him to be her equal. Maybe it was the buzz between them that she was afraid of. Of what that might lead to unless they both held themselves in check.
The way she pursed her lips reminded him of his sister Liliana again—reluctant to admit any kind of weakness. She’d started to look less fragile, stronger, back to her fighting self. Almost—but was that a little humility there too? ‘Okay, if you must know, yes, I get a little woozy with blood …’
‘Aha, so you are afraid of something. Interesting …’ He’d found a weak spot. Excellent. Although seeing a young woman so pale wasn’t excellent at all. Fainting in front of a group of colleagues was pretty embarrassing too, and made anyone feel washed out and often came with a thumping headache. And now he felt compelled to help her. Again. It was becoming a habit. An unusual habit that he needed to shake off. ‘Okay, we’ll talk about it later. I may have some suggestions to help you with that. Now, I must go and see my next client.’
‘Wait. Matteo. Please.’ She reached a hand to his arm and a thousand jolts rattled through him. He knew exactly what that was. Chemistry. Physics. And basic biology. There was a connection between them that overrode sense. That ignored his brain and went beyond any interest he’d felt for a woman before. What was it about Ivy Leigh that had him reacting so strongly? Why did he want to help her? What was going on with his body that this attraction was so intense, so fierce?
He wanted answers so he could stop it and get back to normal. He’d never become so interested in a woman that he’d thought about snatching a kiss at work, in an elevator. That was the stuff of romance books and definitely not for a sane, level-headed scientist like himself. He liked to have control in who he kissed … not some sort of urgent, frenzied need. Because he knew exactly where that kind of wild, irrational love got a man. And he wasn’t going there ever again.
Her smile broadened. ‘Thank you for your concern. But what about the transplant? I’d like to watch … from a safe distance.’
Drawing his arm away from her