suitably surprised and then delighted when he tells everyone at the staff meeting?’
They were walking through the hospital gates and up the paved path towards the main staff entrance as Phil made this plea. Annie studied him for a moment, wondering why an attractive, self-assured man should be worrying over such a minor indiscretion as telling a colleague something she’d hear very shortly anyway.
The word ‘ruthless’ echoed in her head. Was the gossip even half-right? Was the new boss tyrannical enough to cause his colleague such alarm?
She patted Phil’s hand, still resting on her arm, to reassure him and led the way through the doors, nodding at other staff arriving early for their shift.
‘Trust you to find a beautiful woman before you’ve even entered the hospital,’ a deep voice said, and Annie turned to see another immaculate three-piece suit standing just inside the entrance. Inside it was a tall, rangy man, with a craggy face and the coolest, clearest grey eyes she’d ever seen.
Her heart stopped beating, stuttered back to life, then raced out of control. It couldn’t be…
Yet she knew it was.
Had known it was from the moment she’d heard his voice…
‘Do I know you?’ He reached out a hand towards her as he asked the question, and Annie stepped back.
He sounded perplexed and when she glanced at him again she saw the untidy brows drawn together in a frown as if perplexed wasn’t an emotion he enjoyed.
‘No!’ she said, far too loudly in the small space, then wondered if something less definite—a vague I don’t think so—might have been more believable.
‘This is Annie Talbot,’ Phil said to the suit. ‘She’s our neighbour and our new unit manager. She bumped into me—literally—outside our gate. Your gate. Annie, this is Alex Attwood.’
This cannot be happening. That was Annie’s first thought.
But it is, was her second.
The third suggested it wouldn’t matter. Might not matter. Especially if she stuck to her denial. She’d just go through to her office, sit down and think things through.
After which she could find out about jobs in Botswana or Tibet or somewhere.
Except she didn’t have a passport—not a real one…
‘Dr Attwood,’ she said coolly, gaining some control over her panic and finally responding to Philip’s introduction. ‘Welcome to St James’s. Phil, I’ll see you later.’
She strode away.
Alex watched her long slim legs eating up the yards down the corridor, saw her head move as she acknowledged colleagues and her hand lift to give a slight wave to others.
It was her. He would swear it was. The hair was different—but women were always changing their hair. He knew it was her from the way she moved. He’d watched her stride away from him once before.
And from her voice—low register, somewhat husky…
But he would also swear there’d been no Annie Talbot on the list he’d kept for the last five years. The most likely name, he’d eventually decided, after three days of detective work and straight-out gossip at the congress, had been Rowena Drake, wife of an Australian cardiologist called Dennis Drake. The fact that she was married should have stopped him thinking about her right then and there but, like the prince with the glass slipper, he’d wanted to know for certain who his mystery woman was.
Since coming to Australia six months ago, Alex had tried to find Dennis Drake, but though records of his training existed it appeared he was no longer practicing in Australia. Probably still working in the US, where he’d been five years ago, Alex had decided, and he’d put the matter to rest once again.
Now here she was!
Alex shook his head. He didn’t know that. And she’d said they hadn’t met. The odds of Annie Talbot being Rowena Drake—being his mystery woman—were a million to one, probably even higher than that, given the population of the country and the percentage of women in the figure.
Yet he’d felt that connection, and he would swear she’d felt it, too.
‘Are you listening to me?’
Phil’s question made Alex realise how deeply he’d lost himself in his memories of the past.
‘Not really,’ he told Phil, certain all he’d been delivering had been gossip about their colleague. Although learning more about her might help him…
‘I was saying Maggie phoned just after you left the house. She wanted to know when you hoped to start operating. A colleague has asked her to stand in with him in a liver transplant later tomorrow, but she doesn’t want to say yes until she’s spoken to you.’
‘We won’t be starting tomorrow,’ Alex replied, feeling better now he could focus back on work. ‘I kept the week clear for checking equipment, staff training, talking to local cardiologists, reviewing files of possible patients and generally settling in. I’ll be seeing Maggie at the meeting, we can talk about it then.’
He’d be seeing Annie Talbot at the meeting, too. Seeing a lot of her, in fact. But if it was her, and she’d lied about meeting him before, what kind of base was that for a working relationship?
‘Who are you waiting for?’ Phil had broken the silence again.
‘Waiting for?’
‘We’re standing here in the staff entranceway, which, in case you haven’t noticed, is becoming increasingly congested. You were standing here when I arrived. I assumed you were waiting for someone.’
‘Oh! No! Well, I might have been waiting for you. Actually, I came in, then wondered about exits and entrances—not knowing the hospital—and went back outside to look around. I’d just come back in and was looking at the fire evacuation plan on the wall when you walked in.’
‘You were checking out the fire exit plan?’
Phil’s disbelief was evident and Alex wasn’t surprised but, having seen the plan on the wall, it had seemed like a good excuse. He could hardly admit he’d seen Phil come through the gates with the woman, and something about her—the way she’d moved—the way her hair had swung to her shoulders, though it was dark, not fair as moonlight—had caused a hitch in his breathing and held him rooted to the spot.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, refusing to be drawn any further into a totally pointless conversation. ‘There’s a small lecture room included in the space the hospital has allotted us. It’s not ideal for staff meetings as I’d rather we were all on one level, but with space at a premium in all hospitals we were lucky to get it. Nine o’clock, we’re on show. That’s if your pretty woman has organised things for us.’
‘She is pretty, isn’t she? And she struck me as an efficient type—power suit and all. Though she told me she was head of the PICU before she took this job. Did you know that? Do you know of many hands-on nurses who’ve gone into admin positions?’
Alex
