Josie Metcalfe - Sheikh Surgeon, Surprise Bride

Her requests and comments to the other staff had been calm, clear and concise and her concentration…probably better than his own, he admitted with a wry smile behind his mask. Particularly today when his focus had continually been interrupted by an awareness of the soft floral scent that had drifted around him from her skin.

This strange sensitivity towards a work colleague had never happened to him before, even though he’d been surrounded by women in every operating theatre he’d worked in.

Was it just her perfume? That was unlikely. The human sensory system was designed to be able to switch off such input after a relatively short time.

So, was it Lily herself? It certainly seemed that way, although he had no idea what it was about the woman that was affecting him this way. There was something about her that was different to every other woman he’d known but…was she that different that she could interfere with his usual level of concentration?

He suddenly realised with a frown of concern that he might be in a different sort of trouble if his scheme didn’t get the go-ahead.

At least with Lily working in the other theatre, prepping and closing each patient in turn, he wouldn’t be working beside her. It might be the only way he’d be able to demonstrate that the scheme worked, and that was so important to him when he had much less than a year left before he returned to his own country at the end of his contract. After all, it was exactly this sort of system that he was hoping to instigate when he returned home and he needed a success here to silence any doubts.

And still he couldn’t help watching her as she straightened up from applying the final wound dressing, taking in the way she ran a smoothing hand over the supportive anti-embolic stockings that Cicely had been helped into before the operation. They would be removed and replaced twice a day for skin inspection and hygiene purposes.

Then he saw her checking that the notes specified the correct doses of post-operative pain relief and that the antibiotic prophylaxis that had commenced preoperatively would continue until healing had taken place. The last thing any of them needed was for their patient to suffer a deep vein thrombosis or develop a post-operative infection that could destroy their work.

‘Good,’ he said quietly, when she finally stepped back and the trolley was wheeled through to the post-operative ward where Cicely’s recovery from the anaesthetic would be closely monitored. ‘That went very smoothly. I am pleased.’

He could see from the way her eyes lit up that she was smiling, even though her expression was still largely hidden behind her mask. He’d had years of discovering how much a man could learn about a woman when he could see little more than a pair of expressive eyes, but for the first time was discovering just how much physical effect they could have on him.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her strip her bloodstained gloves off, the way she automatically tucked one inside the other without having to watch her hands performing the manoeuvre a testament to just how many times she’d done it. Her aim into the bin was equally accurate.

Only then did she pull her mask down around her throat to show him that her smile was every bit as wide and just as delighted as he’d imagined.

‘Really? You’re pleased with the way I…it…?’ She stumbled to a halt, an endearing hint of pink darkening that creamy skin. He took pity on her.

‘Yes, I was pleased with the way the operation went and, yes, I was most definitely pleased with your technique,’ he said firmly. ‘Now, let’s get out of here so the staff can get everything ready so we can do it all over again.’

He gestured for her to precede him out of the room, ironically looking forward for the first time to wasting some of their precious theatre time drinking tea with her and rehashing the recently completed procedure.

It was only as she strode ahead of him and his eyes slid down the long slender length of her legs that he noticed that where other theatre staff had written their names or initials on the clogs they wore in Theatre, Lily had drawn a simple stylised picture of the flower she had been named after. The unexpected touch of whimsy suddenly made him realise that there could be far more to this woman than the fact that she was a talented junior surgeon.

The second procedure, a debridement and removal of osteophytes from an osteoarthritic knee, went every bit as smoothly as the first and his heart lifted with the realisation that, whether he had intended it or not, Reg had certainly chosen a perfectionist to be his junior.

His only lingering concern as they reached the end of their shift was whether someone so slender would have the stamina to keep up that standard over the longer operating sessions he wanted to instigate, and neither of them would know the answer unless or until they were given a chance to find out.

‘Dr Langley. A word, please,’ Reg Smythe said pompously as she was just about to leave the orthopaedic department at the end of her shift.

Lily glanced swiftly at her watch, delighted to see that she really didn’t have time to find out what he wanted to say. She had a strong feeling that he wouldn’t have used the same unpleasantly autocratic tone if she’d been a man and her respect for the head of department took a further dip.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Smythe, but I’m going to be late for an appointment.’

‘An appointment?’ he echoed superciliously, as though nothing could be more important than his request.

Lily didn’t want to give the man any more excuses to dislike her. ‘With someone in the administration department,’ she added helpfully.

‘The administration department?’ he repeated impatiently.

‘That’s where they sort out contracts and tax codes and things, isn’t it?’ Lily elaborated blandly. She certainly didn’t want to give him a hint that it was the senior administrator’s office that was her destination. It would be better if he didn’t know what she hoped to accomplish that evening.

‘Ah, yes. Probably,’ he said dismissively. ‘I suppose you’d better run along, then. I’ll have a word with you later.’

Not if I see you first, she said to herself as she hurried away from him, hoping she didn’t look half as guilty as she felt, but until she knew what the chairman of the committee wanted to talk about, she wasn’t going to risk any conversation with Razak’s nemesis. For all she knew, the man who was one of the hospital’s most senior administrators did want to talk to her about her tax code or her pay scale, unlikely though that might be for a man of his status. His message had given her no reason to think that it could be anything to do with the proposed change in operating methods.

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