Sheikh Surgeon, Surprise Bride. Josie Metcalfe
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given us flower-scented toiletries for Christmas and birthday presents. This year mine was—’
‘Jasmine,’ he finished for her, then shocked her to the core by taking her hand in his and bringing her wrist up to his nose. ‘No, nothing there,’ he pronounced, almost seeming disappointed.
‘Too much hand-washing,’ she suggested, to cover the shiver of response that travelled the length of her spine when his dark eyes almost seemed to take inventory of the other places he might search out to find the elusive scent.
‘Ah…you were saying?’ she fumbled as she tugged to retrieve her hand, horrified by how swiftly things had strayed away from the purely businesslike. ‘About the new system?’ she prompted, as she knotted both hands together on her lap, trying to quell the strange tingle that lingered where his fingers had held hers.
‘Ah…yes.’ She saw him blink as though it took an effort to gather his concentration. ‘It’s production-line surgery, to put it at its crudest. Have you heard anything about it?’
‘Where the surgeon has a whole string of operating theatres on the go at one time, with juniors starting and closing the operations while the consultant does the complicated bit in the middle? Yes, I’ve heard of it,’ she agreed with a buzz of excitement. ‘Is it true that some can keep twelve theatres busy at once?’
‘I believe so, although I didn’t witness it when I was over in the States, or when I was in France, where orthopaedic surgeons use a version of the same system.’
‘So what are the advantages over what happens here? Doesn’t it tie up an enormous number of other staff—anaesthetists, nurses and so on? And then there’s the number of specialist staff for post-operative care, too…and physiotherapists for mobilisation…and the number of beds needed all at once and…’
‘I know! I know! These are all the objections that Reg has been pointing out ad nauseam to anyone who will listen, even though I have told him that I only want to use two theatres and to operate for five hours instead of three and a half.’
‘So tell me about the benefits,’ she challenged.
‘For the hospital accountants, the first one is obvious,’ he said with a shrug. ‘The most expensive member of an operating team is the surgeon, and at the moment the hospital is paying for him…or her…to spend unnecessary time sitting drinking tea or coffee while they wait for the theatre to be cleared and restocked and their next patient to be prepped. It just doesn’t make economic sense to pay them to be idle.’
‘And secondly?’ she prompted, already seeing that he’d thought deeply about this, having seen the system working in other countries.
‘The benefit to the patients is when the waiting lists are cut to nothing,’ he said decisively. ‘Other countries are horrified by the idea that someone already in pain and needing replacement surgery for a hip, maybe, should then be put on a list and have to wait for up to nine months before their pain can be relieved. For some, the only bearable option is to pay to go privately, but for many, even that option is not possible because of the high costs involved. This just doesn’t happen in France, for example, because the production-line system means that the theatres and surgeons are utilised properly…to full capacity.’
‘And the disadvantages?’
‘Once again, financial, with the cost of building and equipping extra theatres, and then there’s the specialist theatre and ancillary staff. There’s also the fact that if the waiting lists disappear, far fewer people will be interested in paying for their operations privately, so the surgeons who are boosting their incomes with private work will feel the pinch, apart from having to work longer shifts and work harder during the hours they’re on shift.’
‘So it’s no wonder that Reg and his coterie are less than enthusiastic about your plans,’ Lily said with dawning comprehension. ‘If they agree with you, it’s tantamount to upping their workload by nearly fifty per cent while dropping their income by a similar amount.’
‘Don’t forget the fact that their tea-breaks will virtually disappear!’ he added, then gave a sigh. ‘It all just so frustrating when the theatre suite is all but completed and I’ve already got the anaesthetists and theatre staff on board.’
‘So,’ Lily mused thoughtfully, ‘the last thing you needed was to have a female surgeon foisted on you. I suppose you see me as the last nail in the coffin of your plans.’
‘To be honest, I won’t know that until I see you work,’ he said bluntly, those dark eyes fixing her steadily, unequivocally. ‘If you’re a good surgeon, you could actually be the card that wins the game.’
‘So, before you start pushing them for the go-ahead, you need to know that Reg appointed the right person in spite of himself. I take it that when we’re in Theatre together tomorrow morning, you’ll be watching me like a hawk?’
‘Will that worry you?’ One dark brow lifted quizzically but there was a watchful stillness about the man that sent an atavistic shiver through her.
That was enough to put some steel into her spine. She’d never allowed any man to intimidate her and wasn’t about to now.
‘Not in the least,’ she said firmly, confident of her abilities. ‘I might not have had the experience you have, but I’m good at what I do. Very good, because I’ve worked hard at it.’
There was an unexpected warmth and…was it respect?…in his eyes. ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ he said softly.
If ever there was a challenge to put her on her mettle, Razak Khan was that challenge, she thought as they finished their meal, tacitly agreeing to stick to more general topics as they got the measure of each other.
It was only when he’d walked her back to the hospital and she was making her solitary way towards her cramped bedsit that she remembered her idea of having a word with the chairman of the committee, just in case Reg had read the bean-counters right.
Initiating this new scheme was going to use up finite resources, with a full staff on duty in both theatres simultaneously, but if Razak had the support of everyone on those teams, even his untried junior…If everyone knew that she was fully behind Razak’s initiative, would that remove any of their reservations?
Of course, much of that would largely depend on how well she performed the next day, whether she and her new boss could find that elusive synchronicity that made for a good operating team, and if she was too tired, it definitely wouldn’t happen.
Razak flung the bedcovers to the floor in a fit of impatience and swore softly into the darkness.
‘What on earth is wrong with me?’ he demanded aloud. ‘So what if she’s a woman? She’s an orthopaedic surgeon, and that’s what matters.’
Except she wasn’t like any other orthopaedic surgeon he’d ever met. He’d never met anyone who presented such a calm, serene exterior while underneath…Did she even know the depth of passion that was hidden under the surface? He doubted it. There was such an untouched air about her that it aroused the hunter in him the way no woman ever had.
She didn’t even look like any of the other women in his life. His upbringing had conditioned him to appreciate the lush voluptuous woman who knew how to pleasure a man, while Lily…
She was so much like her name…tall, slender, elegant, cool, with her pale gold hair and even paler skin the colour of rich cream sprinkled with just a handful of cinnamon freckles. For a crazy moment he found himself speculating whether those sun-kissed spots were confined to her face and arms or whether they extended to the rest of her body. He was seized with the urge to explore beneath the camouflage of her neat professional clothes to find…
‘No!’ he growled, and winced when he heard the throaty tones of arousal in his voice. Was she some kind of witch that she’d tied his thoughts up in her, his body already in thrall?
It couldn’t be allowed, not if he was going to achieve his