Carol Marinelli - The Surgeon's Gift

‘People are allowed to ask Rachael. They’re just being nice, for heaven’s sake.’

‘Maybe.’ Rachael shrugged. ‘But I’ll tell you this much, Hugh. Right now I’d settle for being treated like a normal human being.’

‘Normal human beings eat,’ Hugh ventured, his smiling demeanour such a contrast to Rachael’s surly expression.

‘You don’t give up, do you?’ A very reluctant smile was starting to soften her frown.

‘Only when it’s a lost cause.’ His pager was bleeping incessantly now and Hugh turned it off impatiently and read the words on the small screen with a frown. ‘I was wrong. It looks like they are prepared to start the operation without me.’

‘Then you’d better go.’ Green eyes were looking at her, dark green eyes that weren’t judging or patronising, the kind of eyes that might even make the canteen’s hotpot palatable, the kind of eyes it would be so easy to open up to.

It was the longest few seconds of her life.

‘Go,’ Rachael said again, jerking her face away, terrified he might somehow sense the sudden shift in tempo, hear the contradiction of her spoken word, because surely her eyes must be saying otherwise?

Going was the last thing she wanted him to do.

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