incongruously small head nodded slowly. Sausage-like fingers inched along the bar towards a fold in a baby pink candlewick dressing-gown that looked like a bedspread. David’s lips twitched. Hell, it probably needed to be a bedspread. He wanted to catch Lisa’s eye to see if she was sharing any amusement in the situation but Lisa was looking over his shoulder at Jane.
‘Do you have any idea where Mr Benson is?’
‘Having an echo, I think.’
Mrs Judd was having difficulty locating her pocket. She tilted towards David who stepped forward involuntarily. Lisa was forced to step backwards. She looked annoyed.
‘And Mrs Chisholm?’
‘She was on the list for a nuclear scan but she might still be in the shower.’
Mrs Judd had found her inhaler. It seemed to be an effort for her to raise it to her lips. David heard her gasp and had a horrifying vision of trying to resuscitate Mrs Judd here in the corridor. He drew in a deep breath and was again aware of the evocative scent of Chanel. But Lisa Kennedy was looking anything but sensuous.
‘It would be nice—just occasionally—if I could find my patients in their beds when I wanted to do a ward round.’
Jane laughed. ‘I’ll see what I can do, Lisa.’
Mrs Judd was moving again and David found himself deserted. He watched as Lisa disappeared into the ward office with Jane, before moving off himself with a small shrug. Why did he have the feeling that he was a major contributor in what was shaping up to be a bad day for Lisa Kennedy? And why did his thoughts keep returning to the senior registrar even hours later when he had finished his tour of the respiratory wards and lunched with their senior staff.
It had to be the novelty of an attractive woman apparently disliking him on sight that had sparked this preoccupation. It wouldn’t take long to readjust to a professional standpoint and then they’d probably get on just fine. She was obviously good at what she did and she would soon recognise that he was also more than competent. He would gain her respect at least. And after that? a small voice whispered. David ignored the question. After that, who knew what might happen? Things had a habit of sorting themselves out. It was really only a matter of time.
And time could often pass more quickly with a little push. David’s attention was caught by the display outside the hospital’s gift shop but he hadn’t expected to find Lisa in residence when he managed to track down her new office. He had intended to simply leave the single red rose along with the other items in the small box he carried. With dismay he now realised that the gesture might not have been such an inspiration after all.
‘I felt bad about the office,’ he explained. The rose now seemed totally inappropriate but he handed it over anyway. Her expression was unreadable but maybe there was just a trace of amusement there.
‘Thanks.’ She tilted the rose towards the box he carried. ‘I see you’ve fixed my heart as well.’
‘My pleasure. It’s what I was trained for after all.’
The reward of a smile was encouraging but David was uncomfortably aware of the reverberation of a treadmill gaining speed next door. When Sean Findlay entered the office it also felt distinctly crowded. The young registrar dumped a pile of case notes onto the second desk and vanished with a cheerful grin. The sound of the treadmill increased. David glanced out of the small window and found he could see directly into a side room of one of the cardiology wards. Mrs Judd was standing at the window. Divested of her candlewick bedspread, she was now wearing an unfortunately diaphanous nightgown. Lisa had followed her gaze.
‘Just as well you weren’t given this office,’ she commented lightly. ‘It wouldn’t do to provide a surgeon with such blatant distractions.’
Something about her inflection made David’s gaze transfer swiftly. ‘You’ve got something against surgeons?’
‘Nothing personal.’ Lisa’s smile looked mechanical. ‘I’m sure you get a lot of job satisfaction.’ She toyed with the rose she was still holding.
David leaned his back against the windowframe. So this was what the attitude was all about. He smiled encouragingly. ‘What’s so wrong with being a surgeon?’
‘Oh, there’s nothing wrong. Quite the opposite.’ Lisa’s eyebrows moved up expressively. ‘A surgeon is the best thing to be. Ask any patient. Wait for that awed gaze when they know they’re going to be referred. They’re going to see the real thing.’ Her chuckle was genuine enough. ‘God holding a knife. A chance of a real cure.’
David held onto his smile with increasing difficulty. ‘OK, so it’s a bit more glamourous. That’s not my fault.’
‘More glamourous, more important, more skilled and more highly paid. A hell of a lot more highly paid.’
‘Ah! Now we get down to it.’ David’s smile was forgotten. ‘You’re jealous!’ David felt a flash of annoyance at her belligerent attitude and his control slipped significantly. ‘So what stopped you becoming a surgeon, then? Course too tough?’
‘Typical!’ It was a wonder the rose didn’t wilt under the heat suddenly generated around it. ‘You’re not good enough to be a cardiac surgeon so you take the easy route and become a cardiologist. Exactly the attitude from most surgeons and more than most of the general public. What you—and they—fail to appreciate is that you couldn’t function without us.’
‘Really?’ David’s anger had been overidden by a very different emotion. He had never been tempted to try the line that a woman looked beautiful when she was angry but, then, he wasn’t in the habit of making women angry. Passionately angry, judging by the play of expression before him now. The rose was tossed aside.
’Really.’ It was a snap like a steel trap. ‘Who diagnoses these patients? Keeps them alive and makes the decision about whether surgery is even necessary?’
David couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her guard had really slipped now. He had never seen a face quite so alive. ‘I think we might have a little input into that one,’ he suggested evenly. Lisa ignored him.
‘Who continues the care after the surgery? They’re our patients from go to whoa. Sure, we might need the technical assistance with a bit of replumbing in the interim but that’s as far as it goes. We create your workload and we pick up the pieces afterwards. And we carry the can for any less than successful interventions. Envious! Listen, I know who the real doctors are.’
The end of the tirade coincided with the abrupt termination of the neighbouring exercise test. The silence was startling. David was still staring at Lisa. He had been watching her mouth with fascination, the soft, mobile lips now set into an uncompromising line. He met her eyes, disappointed to find that the fire had been extinguished. David raised an eyebrow eloquently but said nothing. The blush he saw appearing was unexpected.
‘Sorry.’ She looked away and her voice dropped to a mutter. ‘I shouldn’t take it out on you.’
‘Take what out?’ David’s curiosity was aroused. Perhaps there was more going on than an irrational professional intolerance.
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It seems to matter quite a lot.’ David tilted his head thoughtfully. ‘If I’m stepping into some political minefield, I’d prefer
