should write the case history up for a journal,’ Luc suggested.
‘I think it’s been done,’ Blake said. ‘What bothers me is that nobody queried whether her seizures could have been due to oxygen deprivation in the first place. And I can’t really take the credit...’ He lifted his gaze to scan the emergency department. ‘It was actually one of our nurses who joined the dots.’
‘Wow. That’s impressive. Who was it?’
‘Samantha...someone. She’s new.’
‘Ah...’ Luc raised an eyebrow. ‘The one that looks like a model?’
‘Mmm.’ The response was meant to be discouraging. He didn’t want to find out that any of his colleagues found her attractive. And he certainly didn’t want to give anyone the impression that he did. She wasn’t his type and never would be.
‘Give her a pat on the back then.’ Luc turned away but then threw a grin over his shoulder. ‘Figuratively, I mean.’
Blake ignored the subtle reference to his reputation with women but the suggestion had already been made by the cardiology team. ‘I’ll do that.’
Not that he could see Sam anywhere. After a week of being so aware of her in the department, half expecting her to do something else that was clumsy or inappropriate, it was a little disconcerting to realise he might have to go looking for her to pass on the congratulations.
Maybe that had something to do with the impression he’d been left with that she hadn’t exactly been thrilled to have him take over Jess’s management until the patient was transferred to the cardiology department. She’d barely spoken to him when she’d brought the monitor back and busied herself attaching electrodes and then she’d faded into the background when Jess asked her to contact her parents and let them know what was going on.
What had he done to offend her?
And why did it bother him, anyway?
Okay, maybe she’d ditched those frivolous nails but she still belonged to a world he did his best to avoid. A supermodel clone who drove around in a real-life Dinky toy and had the time and inclination to sit around in beauty salons.
The fact that she was intelligent made no difference.
The jolt of electricity he’d felt when his hand had brushed hers shouldn’t make any difference, either.
But it did, dammit.
Against his better judgement, Blake had to admit that he was lying to himself by pretending he wasn’t attracted to this newcomer.
He was. Seriously attracted.
Not that he was going to act on it.
So, maybe it wasn’t a bad thing if he’d somehow offended her. A useful insurance policy if his body decided it would be worth overriding his better judgement and he was tempted to find out if Samantha Braithwaite was single. Or interested.
And why would she be interested anyway? He didn’t sit around in wine bars or treat his dates to great seats for some show at the Sydney Opera House. His spare time was devoted to helping out the less privileged members of society at the free clinic and keeping up with any DIY or gardening at his mother’s house. And training, of course. If it wasn’t an organised session with the SDR team, he’d be out running or at the gym using the climbing wall or something. Physical kind of stuff for the most part.
The kind that made you sweaty and dirty.
Could break your nails, even.
Nope. She definitely wasn’t his type.
And he didn’t need to go and find Sam. He’d see her soon enough and he could pass on the message.
Or he could write a note and leave it under the windscreen wiper of the car he couldn’t help looking for every day when he arrived at work. Except that she’d think it was a ticket or something, wouldn’t she? She might be really annoyed by a gesture like that.
Blake thought about that for a moment. Then he turned to Emily who was working nearby at the central desk.
‘Got a bit of scrap paper, Em?’
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