on not flinching. ‘I expect Ryan takes his kids—he’ll be able to tell you where it is.’
She was saved any further conversation by Ryan’s arrival. He shook Matt warmly by the hand, recharged their cups from the coffee-machine, which had gurgled and burped its way to completion, and sprawled out opposite Matt, filling what was left of the floor with his outstretched legs.
‘How’s Emily coping with school? Heard anything?’
Matt held up a hand, as if warding off evil. ‘Not a word. Please, God, she’s OK. I’m not calling the school—no news has to be good news.’
Ryan chuckled. ‘She’ll be fine. They’re very good there. Evie and Gus love it.’
‘Let’s hope she does, too.’ He drained his coffee, set the cup down and leant forward expectantly.
Coiled, Sarah thought. Like a spring, or a cat ready to pounce. She watched him as he chatted to Ryan about the unit, answering questions here and there, and then Ryan got to his feet and suggested they went on a grand tour.
‘Want me?’ Sarah asked as they headed for the door.
‘Sarah, you’re always wanted,’ Ryan said with a grin, ‘but just for now I think I can almost cope.’
She poked her tongue out and debated having another cup of coffee as she listened to them walking off down the corridor to Ryan’s running commentary on the layout of the unit.
She had work to do, despite her remarks to Matt. If nothing else there was stock to check and requisition, and after such a hectic weekend it wasn’t fair to leave it all to her juniors, quiet or not. All she needed today was someone on the hospital management committee coming round and asking why they’d used so many wrist supports over the past week, and she’d be sorely tempted to take the pad of requisition slips and post it where the sun didn’t shine!
Matt followed Ryan, taking in the details of the unit with half his mind while the other half dwelt on Sarah Cooper. Ryan had mentioned her, but more as a colleague than anything. He hadn’t touched on her looks. Maybe he hadn’t noticed, which wasn’t surprising considering how deeply involved he was with his wife.
Matt, though, couldn’t get her face out of his mind and he found himself looking for her around every corner, listening for the sound of her voice, waiting for her to reappear.
He wondered how long her hair was. It looked sleek and heavy, a very dark brown that owed nothing to a bottle. It was up, but down it could have been anything from shoulder-length. He wondered what it would feel like, and knew it would be soft and heavy for Emily’s was. The thought of this woman’s hair threatened to drive him to distraction.
Like her voice. Soft and lilting, no sharp edges or harsh notes—it was made for whispering tender words in a moment of passion. So were her lips, soft and kissable, full enough without being pouty, unadorned with lipstick, like early-morning lips.
And her eyes, hazel with a touch of gold, gentle eyes with a hint of sadness—eyes that had seen too much, endured above and beyond the call of duty.
Yes, if he had to find one word to sum her up it would be soft—soft and womanly, with curves in all the right places and not a skinny angle to be seen.
He hated skinny angles.
‘This is Resus.’
He jerked his head up and looked around, conscious of how little attention he’d been paying. Hell, he couldn’t afford to get distracted like that, someone’s life might depend on him paying attention in the next few minutes so that he knew the ropes.
He forced thoughts of the soft and delectable Sarah Cooper out of his mind—for now. He’d have to get to know her, but he had plenty of time. Three months.
Suddenly it didn’t seem long enough.
Sarah was uneasy about the quietness. She shouldn’t be, she knew. She should just be taking advantage of it to do the mundane routine things like the stock-check and putting that curtain back on the hooks that a drunk had half pulled down over the weekend, but she found she was restless.
Was it because of the unaccustomed quietness, or because of Matt, their new member of staff? He was supposedly over in England to study the way trauma units here worked, and he was going to go away with a false impression of how little they worked unless something happened, Sarah thought—and then the phone rang.
‘Elderly female, hypothermic, suspected fractured femur, on her way in—and the paramedic with her needs looking at. He’s been bitten.’
‘Bitten?’
Sarah could almost hear the woman on ambulance control shrug. ‘So they said. ETA ten minutes.’
‘OK, thanks.’
She put the phone down and went to find Ryan. ‘Hypothermic lady with a hip on the way in—and she’s bitten the paramedic, by all accounts, so I suggest we send her up to Orthopaedics nice and quickly!’
Ryan grinned. ‘I think we’ll let Matt take his first case—I wonder if she’s got rabies?’
‘Gee, thanks, I can hardly wait,’ Matt murmured, rolling his eyes, and Ryan laughed and slapped him on the back.
‘Come on, let’s get you a white coat and a stethoscope so you look like a real doctor, and then you can come and play.’
‘Wow, I haven’t played doctors and nurses for years,’ Matt said with a grin. ‘Who gets to take their clothes off first?’
‘You, if you’re not careful,’ Sarah quipped, and left them to it, trying not to think about playing doctors and nurses with Matt. Instead she concentrated on playing nurses for real, and prepared a trolley in case they had to rewarm their patient with peritoneal dialysis, warming some saline in readiness.
In the event their patient was only mildly hypothermic, and they wrapped her in a foil blanket, treated her with warmed, humidified air and forty per cent oxygen, and because she was very dehydrated they set up an IV line to dribble in warmed fluids to boost her gently.
While she was waiting for an X-ray they turned their attention to the paramedic, who was clutching his groin and looking pained.
Sarah’s eyes widened and brimmed with laughter. ‘What on earth did you do to her that she bit you there?’ she asked, astonished. ‘You must have really upset the poor woman.’
‘What? What woman?’
‘Mrs Pomfrey—wasn’t it her that bit you?’
The paramedic gave a pained chuckle. ‘Whatever gave you that idea? It was her dog that bit me—some bloody pit-bull cross, I reckon, from the jaws it had on it. She said it was a terrier—called it Fifi.’
‘Really?’ Sarah snapped some gloves on and grinned. ‘I thought the woman had bitten you—that’s what ambulance control said. Oh, well, off with your trousers, let’s have a squint at this. Did Fifi get anything vital?’
‘Bloody well tried,’ he muttered, undoing his zip and sliding his trousers down. Sarah helped him remove them, then the torn boxer shorts, just as Matt came in.
