The Pregnant Surgeon

Joanna slid her feet into a pair of backless Theatre clogs then went through to the scrub room. They were using Theatre three again and Lucy Porter was already in there, getting scrubbed up. She grinned when Joanna appeared.

‘Hi! I was beginning to wonder what had happened to you. Problems with the new guy, by any chance? I had a feeling earlier that things might be getting a little tense between you two.’

‘No, everything’s fine. I just needed a word with Dr Archer, that’s all. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.’

Joanna went to the sink and quickly turned on the taps. Scooping a handful of antiseptic soap from the dispenser, she started lathering her arms. She felt rather uncomfortable about being asked a question like that. Normally, Lucy just wished her good day then carried on with what she was doing. She couldn’t recall the theatre sister passing a remark of a personal nature before and found herself wondering what had caused her to do so that day.

‘No problem,’ Lucy replied cheerfully, breaking open a sterile towel to dry her hands. ‘It gave us time to have a cuppa before we set to again. With Dylan bringing up that emergency, we didn’t get much chance to ease into the day. Poor old Tom looked very peaky from having to forgo his morning infusion of caffeine!’

‘Then it all worked out for the best, didn’t it?’ Joanna replied rather lamely.

She took a nailbrush off the shelf and set to work with gusto, wondering why she was so uncomfortable about making conversation. She’d worked with Lucy for several years now yet this was the most they’d ever said to one another. Their previous conversations had been confined to work but, then, most conversations she had nowadays were work-related. When was the last time she’d exchanged a bit of idle gossip with anyone? It was faintly alarming to realise that she couldn’t remember.

‘Aha, so you’ve drawn the short straw and got the new guy again, Lucy.’ Dylan came into the scrub room and Joanna swung round when she heard his voice. Just for a moment her gaze rested on his powerful frame before she hurriedly resumed what she’d been doing, but it was already too late because the sight of him had imprinted itself in her mind by then. The gushing water and frothing soap-suds suddenly blurred as his image swam before her eyes, and she gulped. That scrub suit had clung to every powerful line of his body, highlighting muscles that looked far too fit for someone who spent his working life bent over an operating table!

The picture sharpened and she had to draw in a ragged breath when a wave of dizziness assailed her. Were Dylan’s legs really that long or was it just a trick of her imagination? And his shoulders—could they possibly be that broad without the benefit of padding? She knew she shouldn’t look at him again but the urge to satisfy her curiosity was too strong to resist.

She glanced round, deliberately letting her gaze rest on his broad back because it seemed vital that she should answer those questions. He was reading through the patient’s notes so she had ample time to take stock without him noticing and didn’t waste a second as she began mentally listing his attributes. Well-shaped head, strong neck, broad shoulders, neat waist…

Her gaze suddenly came to his bottom and to her dismay refused to move on. She tried to make her eyes obey her but to no avail. Joanna bit her lip. There was something decidedly sinful about the idea of standing there, ogling Dylan Archer’s taut derrière so perfectly displayed by the thin scrub-suit trousers.

He suddenly looked round and Joanna flushed when he caught her staring at him. A slow grin spread across his face and she had to bite back her groan of dismay. She had never felt so embarrassed in her life and there was absolutely nothing she could do to salvage her pride.

‘Don’t worry, Joanna. I know exactly what you’re thinking.’

‘You do?’ she squeaked, her vocal cords knotting in mortification.

‘Yes. And I promise you that I’m going to stick strictly to the rules from now on.’ He waggled the folder of notes at her. ‘I understand that you need to supervise me and it isn’t a problem. Really. I can tell you’re worried about how I’ll react but there’s no need.’

He suddenly frowned, his black brows drawing together over those gorgeous emerald green eyes. ‘That is what’s bothering you? You’re worried that I’ll take offence but I promise you that I don’t mind if you spend the day peering over my shoulder.’

Maybe he didn’t mind but she did!

All of a sudden Joanna knew that the last thing she needed was to spend the day monitoring what Dylan was doing. She could just imagine how stressful it would be to have to stand behind him in Theatre, staring at…

‘No!’ She cut off that train of thought because she didn’t dare let it reach its natural conclusion. She had to stop thinking about Dylan’s bottom!

‘No?’

‘No.’ She heard the bewilderment in his voice and hurried on. She couldn’t afford to let this situation get out of hand. She had to remember that she was forty-two years old and that getting involved with a junior colleague would be professional suicide. Maybe men could bend the rules to suit themselves but she couldn’t take such a risk. She refused to let herself become the butt of a lot of puerile jokes and damaging gossip.

‘I won’t be monitoring your work, Dr Archer, because there is no need. I saw enough this morning to know that you are more than capable of working on your own.’

She elbowed the taps off and took the towel Lucy offered her, deliberately ignoring the shock on the other woman’s face. Maybe it was unheard of her to compromise but sometimes a situation demanded a more flexible approach. Tossing the towel into the basket, she slid her hands into the latex gloves that Lucy offered her before glancing at Dylan again.

‘We shall split the list between us. I’ll be working in Theatre two if you need me.’

She briskly headed for the door and didn’t pause when Dylan said softly behind her, ‘Thank you.’

Joanna didn’t reply because she didn’t want to make an issue out of her decision. She went straight to Theatre two and informed the staff that she would be operating in there that morning while Dr Archer, the new senior registrar, was working in Theatre three. The announcement caused a bit of a stir but she told herself that it was because they hadn’t been expecting her and had nothing to do with the fact that she had seen fit to bend the rules for a newcomer.

Fortunately, everyone soon settled down and within a few minutes her first patient was being wheeled in. Joanna had a brief word with the young woman who’d been admitted for surgery on her hand. She was suffering from Dupuytren’s contracture—a condition whereby tissues beneath the palm of the hand thickened and shortened, causing difficulty in straightening the fingers. Joanna planned to cut and separate the bands of tissue to free the woman’s fingers. It was an operation she had performed before successfully so she assured the patient that everything would be fine then moved aside while the anaesthetist got on with his job.

It was a scene she’d witnessed too many times to count but all of a sudden it felt as though she was seeing it afresh. Her vision seemed sharper than it had been before, her hearing more acute, and she couldn’t understand what had changed until it struck her that it was Dylan Archer’s arrival which had made the difference. The scene she was witnessing seemed far more vivid than normal because of his presence, and the realisation scared her.

Her life had been going according to plan and she didn’t want anything to change, but she might not be able to stop it. Dylan Archer’s advent into her life had added a new dimension to the equation and, whether she liked the idea or not, she might not be able to get things back to how they had been before.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_373da085-25d0-5049-8c0d-dce793eb431b)

‘GOOD work!’

Dylan smiled when Tom Barnes clapped him on the back as he came into the changing room. They had just finished their last operation for the day—the one to repair Ada Harper’s hiatus hernia—and he knew that Tom was as pleased as he was that it had gone so well. Ada was now in Recovery and would be transferred to the surgical ward as soon as she came round from the aneasthetic. However, Dylan wasn’t anticipating any problems.

‘Thanks, but you should give yourself a pat on the back as well. Anaesthetising a patient of that age is no mean feat, buddy!’

‘I know.’ Tom’s face split into a wide grin as he stripped off his Theatre greens and tossed them into the laundry hamper. ‘I did one heck of a job in there, too, didn’t I?’

Dylan gave a bark of laughter at such unashamed lack of modesty. ‘You certainly did. It’s no wonder Joanna overlooks your dodgy dress sense if that’s any indication of your expertise.’

‘What do you mean, “dodgy dress sense”?’ Tom tried—and failed—to look suitably offended as he took his T-shirt off a peg and inspected it. ‘This is the real McCoy, I’ll have you know. A genuine, bona fide surfer’s shirt, only given to those brave souls who’ve ridden the Big One.’

‘The Big One, as in Hawaii?’ Dylan whistled. ‘Then I stand in awe of your surfing talents as well as your anaesthetising skills. No wonder you’re the star of Joanna’s team.’

‘Thank you kindly. It’s nice to be appreciated although I might need to look to my laurels now you’ve joined us.’ Tom dragged a towel out of his locker and flung it over his shoulder as they headed for the showers.

‘What do you mean?’ Dylan paused and looked at the other man in surprise.

‘That my undoubted talents might not be enough to keep me in pole position as our revered boss’s star performer.’ Tom grinned as he reached a long arm into the cubicle and turned on the water. ‘The lovely Joanna obviously has a soft spot for you.’

‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Dylan denied, stepping into the cubicle and hurriedly turning on the jets. The water was icy cold and he gasped when it hit him. Shivering, he quickly adjusted the temperature then looked up when Tom’s voice came from the neighbouring stall.

‘It’s unheard of for Joanna not to give a new recruit a thorough going over,’ Tom shouted above the noise of the water. ‘I can’t recall her ever letting anyone get on with the job without first checking to ensure he knows what he’s doing. You can have a list of references as long as your arm but she still has to be sure you’re equal to the task, so how come she gave you free rein today? What’s your secret?’

‘Oh, I expect she’d seen enough when I operated on that chap with the ruptured spleen,’ Dylan replied uncomfortably, because he’d heard the speculation in Tom’s voice. A wave of heat that had little to do with the temperature of the water rushed through him and he grimaced. The thought that Joanna might have treated him as a special case was both intriguing and scary. Whilst he appreciated the fact that she trusted him enough to do his job, he didn’t want to get carried away by the idea that she might have afforded him special treatment for any reason other than his professional skills…

The hell he didn’t!

Did Joanna see him as rather more than just a very new colleague? he wondered euphorically. And was that why she’d waived her rules today? His mind ran riot with the idea so that he missed what Tom said and had to apologise. ‘Sorry. What was that?’

‘I said that it still isn’t like her to be so lenient.’ The water in the neighbouring stall was suddenly switched off but Tom didn’t bother lowering his voice. It came booming over the partition.

‘Joanna is paranoid about making sure everything is done to her exacting standards. That woman lives and breathes surgery to the exclusion of everything else. I don’t know how you managed it, my friend, but you’ve achieved the impossible. You’ve made Joanna Martin behave like a human being for once, and I and the rest of the staff salute you!’

Joanna left the changing room as soon as she was dressed. It had been a busy day but she was pleased with what she had achieved. She checked her watch as she hurried towards the stairs and smiled when she realised that she’d have time to go over her speech before she needed to get ready for the dinner. She’d got through her list that day in record time thanks to the fact that Dylan Archer had taken half her patients, so she may as well make the most of the early finish. Although she was confident that she had covered all the points she wanted to make, it wouldn’t hurt to go through her notes one last time…

Joanna is paranoid about making sure everything is done to her exacting standards. That woman lives and breathes surgery to the exclusion of everything else. I don’t know how you managed it, my friend, but you’ve achieved the impossible. You’ve made Joanna Martin behave like a human being for once, and I and the rest of the staff salute you!

Joanna was passing the men’s changing room when Tom’s voice suddenly boomed out into the corridor. She came to an abrupt halt, feeling herself trembling when she realised what he’d said. Did the staff really consider her dedication as a form of paranoia? Might it even be true? She didn’t want to believe it but she couldn’t deny there was some truth in what Tom had said. She did live and breathe surgery but she’d needed to be completely focused to get where she was. She was a woman in a man’s world and it had needed total commitment to get her this far…