loved operating in the small but brilliant theatre at Wildfire. Double-glazed windows let in natural light while allowing the room to be airconditioned, and through them she could see the tangle of treetops and vines in the rainforest that ran up the hill behind the hospital.
Added to which Sam was an excellent assistant, competent in his own right to perform routine operations but unable to take time out of his busy schedule to do regular surgical work. Hettie, the head nurse, and Caroline both enjoyed theatre nursing so, with Ben, she had a great team.
The patient was sedated, breathing through an endotracheal tube, and Sarah was about to begin when she sensed, rather than saw, another person enter the room.
Sensed who it was, too.
‘Glad you felt well enough to come up,’ Sam said cheerfully to the newcomer, who was still somewhere behind Sarah as she lifted a scalpel off the tray, ready to begin. ‘It’s not often we can show off our theatre to someone who’s seen the best.’
‘Thank you for inviting me.’
The deep voice reverberated down Sarah’s spine, and she had to focus on the lines she’d drawn on the patient’s neck and breathe deeply for a moment to steady her nerves.
Sam glanced at her, the retractors in his hand, ready to begin, while Hettie shifted a little impatiently, ready to cauterise tiny blood vessels.
Sarah began, although a tiny portion of her mind was protesting that it was her theatre right now and she could ask him to leave.
When the hospital boss had invited him?
She focussed fully on the patient, cutting into the throat in a crease in the woman’s neck so the scar would be next to invisible. The parathyroid glands lay directly behind the thyroid, so at the forefront of her mind her brain was locating and isolating them so they wouldn’t be damaged.
The area was also filled with important nerves and blood vessels, not to mention the larynx, just above the gland, so it was easy to lose herself in the meticulous work, excluding all outside factors.
Three hours later the glands had been removed and Sarah was checking they’d cauterised all the blood vessels in the incision.
‘I’ll close for you if you like,’ Sam offered, and, knowing how much he enjoyed being part of the surgery, Sarah stepped back, only too happy to let him finish the job.
‘Do you want a drain in place?” he asked, and she checked the open wound again.
‘No, it’s clean,’ she said. ‘Good job, team.’
She crossed the theatre towards the washrooms, stripping off her gloves and gown and dumping them in a bin by the door. Still clad in the highly unflattering green hospital scrubs, she turned to push her way through the door, finally catching sight of the unexpected onlooker.
He’d obviously been masked as he’d stood outside the sterile area of the theatre. Now the white strip of paper hung around his neck, resting on the collar of a dark blue polo shirt that clung to a chest any athlete would be proud to display.
And just why had she been looking at his chest?
To avoid looking at his face?
Probably!
But what was it about the man that drew her eyes?
More than her eyes … Her senses.
Forget him!
She felt strongly about his opting out of the world of paediatric surgery. From all she’d seen and read, he’d been truly gifted.
And he’d made her cry!
Twice!
So why was she even thinking about him?
She stripped off her clothes, showered, and pulled on a pair of white slacks and a black and white striped tee that was old and faded but very soft and comforting. Pushing her feet into sandals, she went out the back door of the changing room and along the corridor to the rear of the hospital, heading for her villa.
Ben was in charge of their patient now, and would keep an eye on her in the recovery room. Sarah would see her in the morning.
The first thing she saw as she walked into the villa was the jug from Harry’s bure—the jug she’d carried away with her as she’d fled the man’s taunt.
Well, he was up at the hospital with Sam right now, so she’d duck down to the resort and leave it outside his door. She grabbed her hat, a large droopy-brimmed black creation, off the hook by the door.
The ducking down to his island home would have worked if he hadn’t overtaken her as she strolled down the track, admiring the beautiful, lush gardens and isolated bures.
Finding he’d lost interest in the hospital once Sarah had departed, Harry made his way across the airstrip and onto the track that led through the resort.
The figure striding ahead of him was instantly recognisable despite the floppy black hat covering her glorious hair.
Glorious hair?
He really was losing it with this woman …
This woman he’d hurt when he’d hit out at her.
Unforgiveable, really.
‘Going my way?’
She started at his voice, but perhaps because it was such a corny thing to say she also smiled and held up the jug.
‘Returning your property, but now you’re here I can give it to you.’
She turned towards him, pushing the jug into his hands, their fingers touching, time suspended.
‘Have lunch with me?’
The invitation coming out like it had startled him, and apparently was so unexpected Sarah could only peer up at him from under the hat.
What did she see?
His regret?
Or had she heard a hint of desperation in his voice? She thought for a moment then said yes.
She seemed as startled as he’d been by the acceptance, but he couldn’t hide his pleasure, smiling as he took her elbow to walk her down the track.
His foot still pained him but he tried to hide it, then wondered if was kindness because he was limping that had made her say yes and hadn’t shaken off his hand.
Probably!
Harry’s light touch on her elbow was causing Sarah’s body all the same manifestations of attraction she’d first felt as she’d helped him out of the water the previous day.
The same manifestations that had so confused her she’d ranted at the man about his life choice!
He didn’t speak until they’d reached his island home. He walked her through the room
