low and genuine. ‘Ah, confidence. I like that in a doctor. Especially one who works with me.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I do not like incompetent doctors. I have no time for them. They can learn with somebody else. I demand perfection. Are you perfect, Dr Mackenzie?’ Once again there was a challenge in his ice-blue eyes, although a hint of laughter still lurked in their depths. She had the uneasy feeling he wasn’t just referring to her surgical skills.
Julie squared her shoulders and eyed him coolly, striving to get her racing pulse under control. ‘I don’t think anybody is perfect—least of all me.’ She forced a smile. ‘Although, in my work, I do try.’
For a moment as their eyes locked, it was as if there was no one else in the room. His gaze dropped to her mouth then flickered feather-like over the contours of her face, before coming back to her eyes. Now she knew what animals felt when pinned by the stare of a predator. As heat flooded her cheeks, she couldn’t prevent herself from raising her hand to her scar. Damn it! She hadn’t meant to do that. He tilted his head and regarded her intently, speculation darkening his eyes. Her heart continued to beat as if she had just completed a downhill race.
Mr Crawford broke into the silence that seemed to crackle across the room.
‘I wouldn’t be allocating Julie to your team if I didn’t think she was one of the best, if not the best, junior we have on the rotation at the moment,’ he said mildly. ‘You know, she was once a champion skier,’ he added proudly, as if taking personal responsibility for Julie’s successes. ‘She’s driven to excel in everything she does. No one works harder. She’s always here at the hospital, and even when she’s off duty I find her in the library at all hours, reading up on cases. So, as I said before, Dr Favatier, you can rest assured you have the best working with you.’
Julie felt her blush deepen at the praise. She hadn’t been aware until now that Mr Crawford held her in such high regard. Perhaps finally all the extra effort she put in was paying off. Of course, Mr Crawford wasn’t to know that a barren social life left plenty of time for work and study. She sneaked a glance at the new consultant. Despite his smile, his forehead was knotted again.
He shook his head as if to clear whatever was puzzling him. ‘Bon!’ he said. ‘Then I am satisfied. Too many young doctors have other distractions.’
Julie’s eyebrows rose. With his dark good looks and blatant sex appeal, he struck her as a man who would enjoy many ‘distractions’, as he so oddly put it. Catching her look, Pierre winked at her. The gesture was so unexpected Julie thought she must have imagined it. He was her boss after all! Nevertheless, she felt her blush extend to the tips of her ears and wished she had managed to find the time to shower and change before Mr Crawford had waylaid her. But, she told herself impatiently, what did it matter what Dr Favatier thought of her appearance? Someone who looked the way he did was hardly the type of man to look twice at her—even if she was dressed up to the nines. Nevertheless, she had to fight against the impulse to release her hair from its ponytail and let it fall across her face and cover the scar.
Dr Crawford turned to Julie. ‘And you are extremely fortunate to have the chance to work with Dr Favatier. He’s considered a pioneer in reconstructive plastic surgery in his own country. We are very lucky to have him here for the next couple of months so we must—and I know you will—make the most of the time we have with him to learn as much as possible.’
‘Of course,’ Julie replied, thinking frantically of all the extra reading she’d have squeeze in to make sure she was up to speed. ‘Thank you, Mr Crawford. And I’m very pleased to have the opportunity to work with you, Dr Favatier.’
‘C’mon, then Pierre, let’s leave Dr McKenzie to get herself home for some well-deserved rest. There’s a case in Theatre I’d like your opinion on.’ Pierre gave Julie one last searching look, before allowing Mr Crawford to usher him out the door.
‘Get some rest, Julie, and we’ll see you soon,’ her chief said over his shoulder.
Once the two men had gone, Julie sank back in her chair. For some unfathomable reason she felt as if she had just been caught up in the middle of a tornado. A tornado that had only subsided when her new boss had left the room. He was a hunk. There was no denying it. But, Julie reminded herself with an inward grimace that hunks had no place in her life or, more to the point, she in theirs. Just as well, then, that the only thing that mattered to her was whether he would be a good teacher. And from Dr Crawford’s introduction, it seemed there was plenty to be learned from Dr Pierre Favatier.
Julie let the beat take over as she relaxed into the rhythm of the music from the DJ. She liked the way the darkness of the club hid her. For once, she felt totally unselfconscious. She rarely ventured out in the evening unless Kim, her best and only friend, persuaded her, but tonight, as a special favour to Richard, she had agreed to come to his eighteenth birthday celebration at the nightclub.
‘You don’t want me there,’ she had protested earlier in the week when he had asked her. ‘I’m too old—I’ll only spoil the evening for you.’
But he had insisted. ‘Please, Julie. My friends will think it’s really cool to have you there—you once being famous and all. And, besides, you’re not old—not really.’
Julie had to laugh, knowing that at twenty-six she probably did seem old to Richard and his friends, plus she’d never really been famous. Eventually she had given in and agreed to go, knowing that tonight was especially important to him. She had met Richard at St Margaret’s hospice, where her mother had spent the last few weeks of her life, and had got to know the young lad with the friendly and cheerful personality well. Richard had been suffering from a childhood form of leukaemia, and before he had become ill had liked to ski, and on the occasions he’d felt well enough he’d persuaded Julie to take him to the dry ski slopes on the outskirts of town.
Recently he and his family had been given the news they had so desperately being praying for. Richard’s disease was in remission, and tonight was a special celebration of his recovery, as well as a birthday party.
As Julie danced with her young protégé, she had the uncomfortable feeling someone was watching her. Raising her eyes she was disconcerted to see Dr Pierre Favatier on the balcony, his gaze fixed on her. For a moment their eyes locked and Julie felt her world shift. His brow furrowed before he turned his head to scan the room as if searching for someone in the mass. What was he doing there? It was the last place she had expected to see him and she wondered who he was with. He looked out of place in his suit and tie, she thought. Hardly clubbing gear. Had he, not knowing the city too well, wandered in by accident, mistaking the club for some other, more sophisticated venue?
Julie contemplated going over to him and saying hello, but for some reason she felt shy and awkward about approaching him. Instead, when his eyes rested on hers again, she lifted a hand and gave him a small wave of recognition. She only had time to catch a glimpse of his return wave before Richard pulled her around.
‘What’s happening over there, Julie?’ the teenager asked, gesturing with his chin to where a crowd of dancers had stopped moving to the music. People were standing on tiptoe, looking towards the rear of the club.
Then, as the music came to a sudden halt, there was a ripple of unease in the crowd. Someone called out and necks craned to see what the fuss was about. A fire alarm sounded and the agitated voice of the DJ came over the speaker system.
‘Could everybody, please, make their way to the nearest exit? Do not panic. Do not stop to collect your belongings. I repeat, could everybody make their way as quickly as possible to the fire exits?’
Now Julie could smell the faint, but distinctive
