mother figure, round and jolly and protective of her brood of new grads, though it had taken Miranda only a few days to figure out that you could take the woman out of the army but not the army out of the woman. Edna ran whichever theatre she was in charge of like a military operation and did not suffer fools gladly.
Including prima donna surgeons.
‘Right.’ Edna smiled. ‘Let’s get started. All this week will be spent familiarising yourself with machinery and drugs and some theory,’ she said, waving a thick booklet in the air, ‘then you’ll have a couple of shifts teamed up with a mentor and next week you’ll be on your own. How does that sound?’
‘Terrifying?’ Miranda admitted.
Edna chuckled. ‘You’ll be fine, dear. Just remember, if in doubt, ask. The anaesthetists won’t bite.’
Miranda nodded. Sage advice she fully intended to take.
The anaesthetists at Benny’s were experienced and very open to teaching and formed part of the great team atmosphere Miranda loved so much. Patients always raved about their surgeons and took the poor old anaesthetist for granted. If only they understood it was the anaesthetists who had the most important job—they were the ones keeping the patients alive during the operation!
Miranda absently hoped that the new guy—the god in pink scrubs—was also a team player. It only took one rotten apple to make a workplace insufferable.
Half an hour into her orientation the swing doors opened and Genevieve Cowan, the director of anaesthetics, entered, chatting to a man in pink scrubs.
A very familiar man in pink scrubs.
Patrick?
Even with his hair hidden by his blue theatre cap, she recognised him instantly. And even if she’d been suddenly blinded her traitorous cells would have whispered his presence to her anyway. Every single oxygen molecule inside Miranda’s lungs seemed to burst in unison and for a moment she struggled to catch her breath.
‘This is Edna,’ Genevieve was saying. ‘I don’t think you’ve met her yet.’
Miranda watched as Patrick extended his hand and shook Edna’s saying, ‘Nice to meet you.’
Patrick was the sex god in pink scrubs? It was all falling into place now. And then a truly horrifying thought fell into place.
He was married?
‘Edna has been here for ever and she knows where every single thing in this place lives. If you need something, she’s the woman for the job.’
Miranda barely heard Genevieve as her gaze flew to Patrick’s left hand. The macaroni bracelet that had adorned his wrist six months ago was gone. But a plain gold band on his ring finger was out and proud.
‘She’s also,’ Genevieve continued, unaware of Miranda’s complete turmoil, ‘the best anaesthetic nurse you’ll ever meet.’
Married.
He was married.
She’d slept with a married man.
Her throat constricted. Nausea threatened.
Edna folded her arms across her ample bosom. ‘Flattery will get you everywhere, Dr Cowan.’
And then she laughed her giant honking laugh, yanking Miranda out of her escalating panic just in time to hear her own introduction.
‘And this is Miranda Dean,’ Genevieve said. ‘She’s new to our team here at Benny’s and I believe this is her first day on anaesthetic rotation?’
Miranda looked at the floor, wishing it would swallow her whole, desperate to disappear into thin air. She wanted to go. To run. To run and not stop. To never have to face Patrick and what they’d done.
What she’d done.
Patrick frowned at the familiar name as his gaze swung towards the other occupant of the room, who seemed to be finding the floor utterly fascinating. Miranda Dean?
His Miranda Dean?
The woman he’d thought about every day, dreamed about every night for the last six months?
Surely not?
‘Miranda?’
He watched as the woman slowly raised her head to look at him. Smoky green eyes peered out from a familiar heart-shaped face and he smiled as his body took a walk down memory lane, reacting to her presence on a purely primitive level.
She didn’t smile back.
‘Patrick,’ she acknowledged through stiff lips, every letter sticking in her toast-dry throat.
‘You two know each other?’ Genevieve asked.
Patrick felt his gut tighten at Miranda’s less-than-enthusiastic welcome. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘We met at the medical symposium in September.’
‘Excellent.’ Edna beamed. ‘It’s always nice to see a familiar face when you’re new.’
Patrick wasn’t sure Miranda agreed. Why on earth did she look so mortified? He knew what had happened between them had been out of character for her but there was no need to look so guilty about it.
They were both adults, for crying out loud.
‘Listen, Miranda, Patrick, do you mind if I snaffle Edna while I’ve got her?’ Geneveive asked. She turned to Edna. ‘I need to make some changes to tomorrow’s theatre five list.’
Edna nodded. ‘Sure. Come to the office.’ She looked at Miranda. ‘I shouldn’t be too long.’
Neither of them waited for approval from Miranda and Patrick and within seconds they were alone.
Patrick frowned at her as Miranda continued to look at him like he’d given her a particularly nasty disease. ‘I gather you’re not too thrilled to see me?’ he started tentatively.
Miranda snorted, galled at his calmness. ‘You could say that.’
Okay … she was obviously annoyed about something. ‘Look, if you’re worried I’ll … talk about what happened with us, there’s really no need. I don’t kiss and tell.’
Miranda folded her arms across her chest. ‘How very magnanimous of you.’
Patrick’s extremities almost contracted frostbite from the ice in her tone. ‘I’m sorry.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t understand. Did you expect me to call you?’
That hadn’t been the impression he’d been left with that morning. True, they hadn’t had the talk but there’d been something about their goodbye that had been final.
Sure, in another time and place, if his circumstances had been different, he’d have followed up but they’d both lived in different cities and had had obligations to their families.
He’d
