an hour-long lecture. Some of the lecturers were so dry and boring that even when she wasn’t exhausted she had trouble staying awake. She’d been so busy operating she hadn’t even caught up with the topic, but she hoped it was riveting because otherwise she’d be snoring within five minutes.
Gripping her traveller coffee mug, she walked toward the lecture theatre and stifled a slightly hysterical laugh.
She’d always known that training to become a surgeon would be a tough gig and she wasn’t afraid of hard work, but it had become apparent that operating was the easy part of the training. It was all the lectures, tutorials, seminars and conferences that came on top of her regular workload that made it unbelievably challenging. Even with all the extra work and the fact she had no desire for a social life, she could have just managed to cope, but lately her chronic insomnia, which she’d previously be able to manage, was starting to get on top of her. Had she been able to get more than three hours’ sleep in twenty-four she could function, but that wasn’t possible now she had to work more days than nights. She preferred night work, but as she was in her final year, she needed more elective surgery experience, which meant working more days.
She paused outside the lecture theatre, wondering why the foyer was so quiet, and then she glanced at her watch. She was early. No matter, she’d take the opportunity to hide up at the back of the lecture hall and take a quick ten-minute power-nap. She’d doze while she waited for the coffee to kick in. Her colleagues always used the dark on-call room but for her the brighter the light, the better she slept. She gripped the heavy door’s handle and pulled.
Tom heard the click of the door opening and immediately breathed in the heart-starting aroma of strong, black coffee. A buzz of irritation zipped through him. Had the IT guy stopped for coffee, even though he’d already kept him waiting for fifteen minutes? Tom had deliberately booked him half an hour earlier than his lecture start time to avoid any stress on the run-up to the Jared-less evening lecture, but right now he could feel his control of the situation slipping due to his unwanted dependence on others. He tried to clamp down on the surge of frustration that filled him, but it broke through his lips.
‘It’s about damn time. I’ve attempted to connect the computer myself, but there’s no sound.’ The person didn’t reply and Tom turned, seeking out the shadowy outline. As he did, he caught the hint of an undertone of a floral scent. A very feminine scent. He let out a low groan. ‘You’re not the IT guy, are you?’
‘Should I be?’
‘I would have preferred it.’
‘Sorry to disappoint you.’
Her seductively husky voice, edged with a touch of sarcasm, swirled around him, leaving him in no doubt he was speaking to Hayley Grey. An image of soft, creamy breasts exploded in his head and he tried to shake it away. ‘That’s hellishly strong coffee you’re drinking.’
‘It’s been a hellish kind of a day.’ She sighed as if standing in the lecture hall was the last place on earth she wanted to be.
He knew exactly how that felt.
‘Do you need a hand, Mr Jordan?’
I need eyes. He forced his clenched fingers to relax and ran them over his braille watch, realising that the IT technician was now twenty minutes late. Need won out over pride. ‘Do you know anything about computers?’
A lilting laugh washed over him. ‘I can turn one on and off.’
‘I suppose I’ll have to work with that, then.’ God, he hated incompetence and right now he was ready to lynch the absent IT professional. It was bad enough having to ask for help let alone be supported by someone who didn’t have the skills he needed. ‘Can you follow instructions?’
He heard her sharp intake of breath at his terse question. ‘I can follow civil instructions, yes.’
He found himself unexpectedly smiling. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had spoken back to him and just recently most people—with the exception of Jared—tiptoed around him, making him want to scream. ‘Good. We’re in business, then. Follow me.’
He used his cane to tap his way to the lectern because when he was stressed he didn’t do echolocation at all well, and falling flat on his face in front of Hayley Grey or anyone else from The Harbour wasn’t going to happen. ‘I can see light on the screen so I assume the picture is showing?’
‘Your screensaver is. Nice picture.’ Genuine interest infused her voice. ‘Is that the Ningaloo Reef in Western Australia?’
He had no clue which one of his pictures Jared was currently using and he really didn’t care. ‘Probably.’ He ran his hands around his computer until his fingers located the cord he knew he’d plugged into the sound jack. ‘Is this green?’
‘Yes.’
‘Look on the lectern. Have I plugged it into a matching green jack?’
He felt strands of her hair brush his cheek as she leaned past him and this time he caught the scent of coconut and lime. It took him instantly to a beach in the tropics and for some crazy reason he thought of a bright red bikini and a deep cleavage. He felt a tightening against his pants.
It had been so long since anything had stirred in that region of his body that part of him was relieved it still all worked. Most of him wasn’t.
Stop it. Concentrate on work.
Out of habit, he closed his eyes to rid himself of the image. The irony hit him hard—the only images he saw now were in his imagination and darkness didn’t affect them one little bit.
‘You only missed by one.’
The admiration in her voice scratched him. Once he’d been admired around the world for groundbreaking brain surgery. Now he needed help with basic technology. ‘Just push the damn plug into the damn jack.’
He thought he heard her mumble, ‘I’d like to plug it somewhere else.’ A moment later music blared through the speakers. ‘Good. It works.’
‘So it does.’ She paused as if she expected him to say something. Then she sighed again. ‘If that’s all, I’ll leave you to it.’
Her tone reminded him he should thank her, but it was bad enough having to ask for help without then having to be permanently grateful. He almost choked on a clipped ‘Thank you’.
‘Any time.’ Her polite response held a thread of relief that she could now leave and that ‘any time’ really meant ‘not any time soon’.
He could hear the clack of heels and the firm tread of rubber as people entered the auditorium in large numbers. There’d been a reason his first lecture earlier in the day had been to the medical students. He’d warmed up on a less demanding audience—practised even—but now his colleagues were filing in and taking their seats. Some had come to hear him speak, some had come merely to confirm if the rumour that he was now blind was true, and he knew that a small number of people he’d ticked off over the years would have come to gloat that the mighty Tom Jordan had taken one of life’s biggest falls.
His right hand fisted. He would not fail in front of them. Even when he’d been sighted he’d known how fickle technology could be and there was no way was he was going to have an equipment stuff-up or malfunction that he couldn’t see. He would not
