Главная страница | Современные любовные романы | Sydney Harbour Hospital: Tom′s Redemption

Sydney Harbour Hospital: Tom's Redemption
Fiona Lowe


Sydney Harbour Hospital’s most elusive – and eligible – doctor has returned…Surgical registrar Hayley Grey knows all the gossip about renowned former head of neurosurgery Tom Jordan – he lived for his job, shunned relationships, and two years ago he disappeared. Now he’s back and his secret is out. Tom’s blind and will never operate again. No wonder he’s the proudest, rudest man she’s ever met – but that doesn’t stop her being drawn to his powerful charisma!There’s no denying the chemistry between them is mind-blowing, but there could be so much more if only Tom would let Hayley see the man behind the mask…Sydney Harbour Hospital From saving lives to sizzling seduction, these doctors are the very best!










Welcome to the world of Sydney Harbour Hospital (or SHH … for short— because secrets never stay hidden for long!)

Looking out over cosmopolitan Sydney Harbour, Australia’s premier teaching hospital is a hive of round-the-clock activity—with a very active hospital grapevine.

With the most renowned (and gorgeous!) doctors in Sydney working side by side, professional and sensual tensions run sky-high—there’s always plenty of romantic rumours to gossip about …

Who’s been kissing who in the on-call room? What’s going on between legendary heart surgeon Finn Kennedy and tough-talking A&E doctor Evie Lockheart? And what’s wrong with Finn?

Find out in this enthralling new eight-book continuity from Mills & Boon


Medical


Romance—indulge yourself with eight helpings of romance, emotion and gripping medical drama!

Sydney Harbour Hospital From saving lives to sizzling seduction, these doctors are the very best!


Dear Reader

I’m not surprised that Sydney, one of the world’s most beautiful cities, was chosen as the host city for a series of books, and I’ve loved writing book number four of the Sydney Harbour Hospital series. It’s been especially fun as my husband’s been working in Sydney recently, and I got to have a few weekend trips to the ‘Emerald City’.

Being a tourist in a city is very different from being a resident, and that got me thinking about my hero, Tom Jordan. He’s been away from Sydney for two years, and he’s coming back to live in the same apartment and work at the same hospital. One random event has changed his life for ever and he’s on a fast learning curve. Nothing in Sydney is the same, but one thing that hasn’t changed is his belief that he doesn’t need anybody’s pity or help.

Hayley Grey is one exam away from being a qualified surgeon, and all her energies are consumed by work. She’s spent years keeping busy so she doesn’t have time to think about anything else, but a person can only run from something for so long before it catches up and starts to cause problems.

Ask Tom or Hayley if they’re happy and they’ll probably answer, ‘I do all right.’ Neither of them is prepared for what happens when they meet, and both of them are running scared.

I hope you enjoy their story as they slowly learn that to open one’s heart and invite people in is the most valuable of life’s lessons.

I love hearing from readers, and you can find me at www.fionalowe.com, harlequin.com, Facebook and Twitter.

Happy Reading!

Fiona




About the Author


Always an avid reader, FIONA LOWE decided to combine her love of romance with her interest in all things medical, so writing Mills & Boon


Medical


Romance was an obvious choice! She lives in a seaside town in southern Australia, where she juggles writing, reading, working and raising two gorgeous sons with the support of her own real-life hero!

Recent books by the same author:

CAREER GIRL IN THE COUNTRY

SINGLE DAD’S TRIPLE TROUBLE

THE MOST MAGICAL GIFT OF ALL

HER BROODING ITALIAN SURGEON

MIRACLE: TWIN BABIES



These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk


Sydney Harbour

Hospital:

Tom’s Redemption



Fiona Lowe














www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Sydney Harbour Hospital

Sexy surgeons, dedicated doctors, scandalous secrets, on-call dramas …

Welcome to the world of Sydney Harbour Hospital(orSHH… for short—because secrets never stay hidden for long!)

In February new nurse Lily got caught up in the hotbed of hospital

gossip in SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: LILY’S SCANDALby Marion Lennox

Then gorgeous paediatrician Teo

came to single mum Zoe’s rescue in

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: ZOE’S BABYby Alison Roberts

Last month sexy Sicilian playboy Luca finally met his match

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: LUCA’S BAD GIRL by Amy Andrews

This month Hayley opens Tom’s eyes to love in

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: TOM’S REDEMPTIONby Fiona Lowe

Join heiress Lexi as she learns to put the past behind her in May:

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: LEXI’S SECRETby Melanie Milburne

In June adventurer Charlie helps shy Bella fulfil her dreams—

and find love on the way!

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: BELLA’S WISHLISTby Emily Forbes

Then single mum Emily gives no-strings-attached surgeon Marco a

reason to stay in July

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: MARCO’S TEMPTATIONby Fiona McArthur

And finally join us in August as Ava and James

realise their marriage really is worth saving in

SYDNEY HARBOUR HOSPITAL: AVA’S RE-AWAKENINGby Carol Marinelli

And not forgetting Sydney Harbour Hospital’s legendary heart surgeon Finn Kennedy. This brooding maverick keeps his women on hospital rotation … But can new doc Evie Lockheart unlock the secrets to his guarded heart? Find out in this enthralling new eight-book continuity from Mills & Boon


Medical


Romance.

A collection impossible to resist!

These books are also available in ebook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk


With special thanks to Leonie and Steve:two terrific doctorswho generously shared their medical knowledge.




CHAPTER ONE


TOM JORDAN—Mr Jordan to almost everyone—stood on the balcony of his top-floor penthouse apartment with the winter sunshine warming his face. The harsh cry of seagulls wheeling above him clashed with the low and rumbling blast of a ferry’s horn as the tang of salt hit his nostrils. All of it was quintessentially Sydney. The emerald city. Home.

He gazed straight ahead towards the Opera House with its striking sails and architectural splendour, before turning his head toward the iconic bridge on his right. He knew the scene intimately, having grown up in Sydney, although a very long way from this multimillion-dollar vantage point. As a kid he’d once taken the ferry to Taronga Park Zoo on a school excursion and been awed by the size of the mansions that clung to the shoreline for the breathtaking views. The teacher in charge had noticed him staring and had said, ‘Dream on, Jordan. People like you only ever clean their floors.’

Tom had never forgotten that hard-nosed teacher or his words, which had eventually driven him to prove that teacher wrong. Prove everyone in Derrybrook wrong—well, almost everyone. Two people hadn’t needed convincing because they’d always believed in him.

The penthouse and the Ferrari were his way of giving those bastards from Derrybrook ‘the finger’. The long, hard journey to being head of the world-renowned neurosurgery department at Sydney Harbour Hospital was another beast entirely—a personal tribute to one of life’s special men.

His nostrils twitched as a slight musty aroma mixed in with the sharp citrus of cleaning products, drifted out from inside and lingered on the afternoon air. His cleaning lady had been both liberal and vigorous with their use in meeting the challenge of ridding the apartment of stale air—the legacy of having been closed up for well over a year. A year that had started out like any other, on a day that had been so routine it would have gone unnoticed in the annals of history yet for one tiny moment of mistiming, which had changed everything. Irrevocably. Irreversibly and indelibly.

For twenty-two months he’d stayed away from Sydney, not ever imagining he could return to the one place that represented everything he’d lost, but, just like that one moment in time, things had once again changed. Two months ago on Cottlesloe beach in Perth, the wind had whipped up in him an urge so strong it had had him contemplating heading east, but to what? A week later he’d received a joint invitation from Eric Frobisher, Medical Director of SHH, and Richard Hewitson, Dean of Parkes University’s School of Medicine, inviting him to give a series of guest lectures over six weeks for staff and medical students. His initial reaction had been to refuse. He wasn’t a teacher and lecturing wasn’t what he wanted—it didn’t even come close, but on a scale of necessity it was better than doing nothing at all. Doing nothing had sent him spiralling into a black hole that had threatened to keep him captive.

He gripped the balcony rails so tightly that the skin on his knuckles burned. This past year had been all about ‘re-education’ and was the first step onto the ladder of his new life. Once before he’d dragged himself up by the bootstraps and, by hell, he could do it again. He had to do it again. Only this time, unlike in his childhood, at least he wouldn’t see their pity or disdain.

A nip in the air bit into him, making him shiver, and he turned slowly, reaching out his hands to feel the outdoor table. Having made contact, he counted five steps and commenced walking straight until his extended left hand pressed against the slightly open glass door. Running the fingers of his right hand down the pane, he kept them moving until they touched and then gripped the rectangular handle. He pulled the door fully open and stepped inside, barely noticing the change in light.

‘And we’re done. Good work, everyone. Thank you.’ Hayley Grey, final-year surgical registrar, stepped back from the operating table and stripped off her gloves, leaving her patient in the capable hands of the anaesthetist and nursing staff. The surgery would later be described in the report as a routine appendectomy and only she and her night-duty team would know how close it had come to being a full-on disaster of septic shock with a peritoneum full of pus. Kylie Jefferson was an extremely lucky young woman. Another hour and things could have been very different.

Hayley pushed open the theatre swing doors, crossed the now quiet scrub-in area and exited through another set of doors until she was out in the long theatre suite corridor. She rolled back her shoulders as three a.m. fatigue hit her, taunting her with the luxury of sleep. Glorious and tempting sleep, which, she knew, if she gave in to and snuggled down in her bed, would only slap her hard and instantly depart with a bitter laugh. No, after years of experience she knew better than to try. She’d stick to her routine—type up her report on the computer, have something to eat, do an early round—and only then, as dawn was breaking, would she head home.

‘Hayley, we’ve got cake.’

‘What sort of cake?’

Jenny, the night-duty theatre nurse manager, rolled her eyes as Hayley walked into an unexpectedly busy staff lounge. Earlier in the night a road trauma case had put everyone on edge and Hayley had seen the tension on their faces when she’d arrived for her case. Two hours later, with the RT patient in ICU, the adrenaline had drained away, and the nursing staff was debriefing in the low-lit room, curled up on the couches and tucked up in warm theatre towels.

She automatically switched on the main bank of lights to make the room reassuringly brighter.

Hands flew to eyes as a chorus of ‘It’s too bright. Turn them off’, deafened her.

Jenny compromised by turning off the set over the couches. ‘After a month here, do you really have to ask what type of cake?’

Hayley gave a quiet smile. ‘In that case I’ll have the mud cake. Lucky I like chocolate.’

Although she’d only been at ‘The Harbour’ for four weeks, she’d already learned that the night-duty theatre team had an addiction to chocolate and caffeine, which, given their unsociable hours and the types of cases they often dealt with, was completely understandable. They were also an outgoing crew and although Hayley appreciated their friendliness, she often found it a bit daunting. Once she’d had a sister who had been as close a friend as a girl could ever have and, try as she might, she’d never been able to find the same sort of bond with anyone else. Sure, she had friends, but she always felt slightly disconnected. However, she could feel The Harbour staff slowly drawing her in.

‘Everyone loves chocolate.’ Jenny plated a generous triangle of the rich cake and passed it over.

‘Tom Jordan didn’t.’ Becca, one of the scrub nurses, cradled her mug of coffee in both hands.

An audible sigh rolled around the room—one that combined the bliss of an en masse crush along with regret. This happened every single time someone mentioned the previous head of neurosurgery. Hayley had never met the man, but apparently he’d left the hospital without warning almost two years ago.

Hayley forked off some cake as she sat down. ‘Is a man who doesn’t like chocolate worth missing?’

‘Hayley! You know not of what you speak.’ Becca pressed her mug to her heart. ‘Our Tom was divine. Sure, he took no prisoners, was known to reduce the occasional obtuse medical and nursing student to tears, but he never demanded more of you than he demanded of himself.’

‘Which was huge, by the way,’ added Theo, the only male nurse on the team. ‘The man lived and worked here, and patients came ahead of everything and everyone. Still, I learned more from him than any other surgeon I’ve worked with.’

‘Watching Tom operate,’ Jenny gave a wistful smile, ‘watching the magic he wove with those long fingers of his, you forgave him any gruff words he might have uttered during tense moments. One look from those sea-green eyes and we’d lay down our lives for him.’

‘Suzy lay down with him,’ Theo teased the nurse sitting next to him. ‘But he got away. Who’s your man of the moment? Rumour is it’s Finn Kennedy.’

Suzy punched Theo hard on the arm. ‘At least I experienced him once. You’re just jealous.’

‘Of Finn Kennedy? Not likely.’ But the muscles around Theo’s mouth had tightened.

Suzy shot Hayley a cool look. ‘Theo quite fancied Tom, and the fact he’s an amazing lover just makes Theo even sadder that he doesn’t bat for his team.’

Hayley was used to the nurses teasing, but this time it all seemed way over the top. Laughing, she said, ‘Gorgeous, talented, dedicated and a lover beyond Valentino? Now I know you’re making this up.’

The aura of the room changed instantly and Jenny shot her a reproving look. ‘No one could make Tom up. He’s one of a kind.’

Hayley let the chocolate float on her tongue before swallowing another bite of the delicious cake. ‘If he’s so amazing and at the top of his game, why did he leave the prestigious Harbour?’

Becca grimaced. ‘That’s what we don’t know. Tom took leave and then, without warning, management announced that Rupert Davidson would be acting head of Neuro while they searched the world for a new head. Then they clammed up when we asked questions.’

Jenny nodded. ‘We’ve phoned Tom, but his number’s no longer in use, we’ve done online searches, wondering if he took a job in the States or the UK, but the last entry about him was his final operation here. The man’s gone to ground and doesn’t want to be found.’

‘I just hope that, wherever he is, he’s working. Talent like that shouldn’t be wasted.’ Theo rose as the PA called the team into action. ‘Oh, and, Hayley, we’re competing against ICU to win the “Planet Savers” competition. You’re our weak link. Can you please turn off the lights when you leave?’

She bit her lip. ‘I’ll try.’

Having checked on her appendectomy patient, who was stable and sleeping, Hayley was now in the lift and on her way home. She leaned against the support rail and gave a blissful sigh. She loved this time of the night when dawn was close, but the hustle and bustle of the day was yet to start. It was a quiet and peaceful time—not always, but today all was calm and experience had taught her to savour the moment. The ping of the lift sounded and she pushed herself off the rail as the silver-coloured doors opened into the long, long corridor that connected the hospital with the basement staff car park. Sensor lights had been installed as part of the hospital’s environmental policy, especially down here where, after the morning and evening’s arrival and departure rush, the corridor was rarely used.

As she stepped out of the lift, she commenced counting in her head, expecting the lights to come on halfway between numbers one and two. She got to three and was now standing in the corridor, but there was still no greeting light. Not a single flicker. The lift doors closed behind her with a soft thud, stealing the only light, and inky, black darkness enveloped her. A shiver raced from head to toe, raising a trail of anxious goose bumps and her heart raced.

Just breathe.

Fumbling in her pocket, her fingers clamped around her phone. The lights had failed two nights ago and in a panic she’d rung Maintenance. Gerry had arrived in his overalls, taken one look at her terror-stricken face and had said, ‘We’ve been having a bit of trouble with the sensor, but we’ve got a new one on order. If it ever happens again, love, you just do this,’ and he’d quietly shown her where the override switch was located.

Why didn’t I just walk to work?

Because it was dark. Come on, you know what to do.

She pressed a button on her phone and a tiny pool of light lit up her feet as she edged her way along the wall. Sweat dripped down her neck as the darkness pressed down on her, making it hard to move air in and out of her lungs. She thought she heard a sound and she stopped dead. Straining her ears to hear it again, she didn’t move a muscle, but the moment passed and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart. She started moving again and stopped. This time she was sure she’d heard a click-click sound.

It’s the bowels of the hospital. There are all sorts of noises down here. Just keep walking.

She wished she’d counted steps with Gerry last week, but she’d stuck to him like glue, listening only to his reassuring voice. She continued edging along the wall until she felt the turn of the corridor pressing into her back. You’re halfway. Knowing she was closer was enough to speed up her feet.

Click. Click. Tap. Tap. Tap. The sounds echoed around her like the boom of a cannon.

Her feet froze. Her breath stalled. It’s probably the furnace. Or pipes.

God, she hated this. She was one exam away from being a fully qualified surgeon. She duelled with death on behalf of her patients every single day, winning more often than not. Facing down blood, guts and gore didn’t faze her at all so she absolutely loathed it that the dark could render her mute and terrified.

You’re close to the lights. Keep going.

Ten, nine, eight, seven … She silently counted backwards in her head as she scuttled sideways like a crab. Finally, she felt the bank of switches digging sharply into her spine. Yes! She swung around, pushed her eight fingers against the plastic and started pressing switches.

Bright, white light flickered and then filled the space with wondrously welcome light and Hayley rested her forehead against the cool wall in relief. She gulped in a couple of steadying breaths and just as her pulse stared to slow, she heard a click. She swung around and her scream echoed back to her.

‘Are you hurt?’ A tall man in black jeans, a black merino sweater and a black moleskin jacket turned from three metres away, holding something in his hand that she couldn’t quite make out.

Her heart jumped in her chest and then pounded even harder, making her head spin, but somewhere buried in her fear a shot of indignation surged. ‘No, I’m not bloody hurt, but you scared the living daylights out of me.’

‘Why?’ The question sounded surprised and he stared at her, but he didn’t move to close the gap between them.

She threw her arms out as if the answer was self-evident. ‘I didn’t know you were here!’

His mouth twitched, but she didn’t know if it was the start of a smile or the extension of a grimace. ‘I’ve known you were here for the past few minutes.’

She blinked. ‘How? It was pitch-black until a moment ago.’

His broad shoulders rose slightly and his empty hand flexed by his side. ‘I heard the ping of the lift.’

‘But that’s in the other corridor and I might have gone in the opposite direction.’

‘True, but you didn’t. I could also smell you.’

Her mouth fell open at the matter-of-fact words and she couldn’t stop herself from raising one shoulder as she took a quick sniff of her armpit before looking back at him. His gaze hadn’t shifted and offence poured through her. ‘It’s been a long night saving lives so sue me if I don’t smell squeaky clean and fresh.’

‘I didn’t say it was offensive.’

Something about the way the deep timbre of his voice caressed the words should have reassured her and made her smile, but the fact he was still staring at her was utterly disconcerting. He hadn’t made any move towards her, for which she was grateful, even though she could see a hospital ID lanyard hanging out of his pocket. With his black clothes, black hair, bladed cheekbones, a slightly crooked nose and a delicious cleft in his stubble-covered chin, he cut a striking image against the white of the walls. Striking and slightly unnerving. He wasn’t a fatherly figure like Gerry the maintenance man in his overalls, neither did he have the easygoing manner of Theo. Neither of those men ever put her on edge.

Even so, despite her thread of anxiety, she would have had to be blind not to recognise he was handsome in a rugged, rough-edged kind of a way, and that was part of her unease. She had the feeling that his clothes were just a veneer of gentrification. Remove them and a raw energy would be unleashed that would sweep up everything in its path.

An unbidden image of him naked exploded in her mind, stirring a prickle of sensation deep down inside her. It wasn’t fear and that scared her even more.

‘Scent aside …’ he tilted his head ‘… which, by the way, I believe is Jenson’s Floral Fantasy.’

How did he know that? She frantically glanced around, looking for a camera or any sign that this was some sort of a set-up, a joke being played on her because she was a new staff member, but she couldn’t see anything. She turned back to him and his tight expression suddenly faded, replaced by a smile that crawled across his face, streaking up through jet stubble and crinkling the edges of his eyes. It lit up his aura of darkness and she wondered why she’d ever been scared of him.

His rich laugh had a bitter edge. ‘I would need to be deaf not to hear the argument you were having with your feet.’

He knows you were scared.

Stung into speech, she tried for her most cutting tone—the one she knew put over-confident medical students in their place. ‘I was not arguing with my feet.’

‘Is that so? What else would you call that stop-start shuffle you were doing?’

‘It was dark and I couldn’t see.’

‘Tell me about it.’

The harshness of his words crashed over her and still he kept staring. It was as if he could see not only her fear of the dark but so many other things that she kept hidden. His uncanny detective skills left her feeling vulnerable and exposed. She hated that and it harnessed her anger. ‘Will you stop staring at me?’

He flinched and turned forty-five degrees. ‘I apologise.’

The tension in his body was so taut she could have bounced a ball off it and his broad shoulders seemed to slice into the surrounding air. As ridiculous as it seemed, she got the impression she’d just insulted him. ‘I’m sorry, that was rude. It’s just I’m not used to meeting anyone down here at this time of the day and, as I said before, I got a fright.’

He didn’t look at her. ‘Please be assured I have no plans to rape, assault or hurt you in any way.’

The harsh edge of his voice did little to reassure her. She’d never met anyone who spoke so directly and without using the cover of social norms. ‘I guess I’ll take that in the spirit it’s intended, then.’

‘You do that.’ A silence expanded between them and was only broken by his long sigh. ‘The only reason I’m in this corridor is because it’s the mirror image of every other corridor in this wing of The Harbour. If you were on level one, what would be on your left?’

She shook her head as if that might change his question. ‘Is this some sort of test?’

‘Something like that.’

His muttered reply didn’t ease her confusion. ‘Um, we’re underneath the theatre suite.’

‘We’re standing directly under theatre one.’ He almost spat the words at her.

She’d had enough. ‘Look, Mr um …?’

‘Jordan.’

‘Okay, Jordan, I’ve been at The Harbour for a month, but you know this, right? You’re in on some crazy initiation joke at my expense.’

He turned back to face her, his cheeks suddenly sharper. ‘Believe me, none of this is a joke, Ms …?’

This was ridiculous. Everything about this encounter held an edge of craziness, including her reaction to him, which lurched from annoyance at his take-no-prisoners attitude to mini-zips of unwanted attraction. She closed the gap between them and extended her hand in her best professional manner. ‘Grey. Hayley Grey. Surgical registrar.’

Sea-green eyes—the electric colour of the clear waters that surrounded a coral cay—bored into her, making her heart hiccough, but his hand didn’t rise to meet hers. She dropped her gaze to his right hand and now she was closer she could see it gripped what looked like black sticks. With a jolt and a tiny but audible gasp, she realised it was an articulated cane.

Her cheeks burned hot. Oh, God, she’d just accused a blind man of staring at her.

Before she could speak, the doors to the car park opened and a young man wearing elastic-sided boots, faded jeans and a hoodie crossed the threshold and stood just inside the doors.

Jordan immediately turned toward the sound of cowboy heels on lino. ‘Jared?’

‘Yeah.’ The young man grinned and shot Hayley an appreciative look that started at her head and lingered on her breasts.

Jordan turned back and this time his blind stare hit her shoulder. ‘Now you have light, can I assume you’re able to find your way to the car park alone?’

His tone managed to combine a minute hint of concern with a dollop of superciliousness and it undid any good intentions she had of apologising for her massive faux pas. Her chin shot up. ‘I wouldn’t dream of holding you up.’

‘Goodbye, then, Hayley Grey.’ He flicked out his cane, clicked his tongue and started walking.

She watched his retreating back and slow and deliberate stride as the clicks echoed back to him, telling him where the walls were.

As he approached the door he said, ‘You’re late, Jared.’

The young man jangled the keys in his hand. ‘Sorry, Tom.’

Hayley froze. Tom? She’d thought his first name was Jordan.

Mr Jordan. Tom Jordan.

The conversation about the mysterious disappearance of The Harbour’s favourite neurosurgeon came back to her in a rush.

No way.

It had to be a coincidence. Both names were common. There’d have to be a thousand Thomas Jordans living and working in Sydney. But as much as she tried to dismiss the thought, the Tom Jordan she’d just met knew the hospital intimately. Still, perhaps one of those other thousand Tom Jordans worked at the hospital too. He could easily be an I.T guy.

We’re standing directly under theatre one.

She might not know the complete layout of The Harbour, but she knew the theatre suite. Theatre one was the neurosurgery theatre, but the man walking away from her was blind. It was like trying to connect mismatching bits of a puzzle.

The man’s gone to ground and doesn’t want to be found.

And just like that all her tangled thoughts smoothed out and Hayley swallowed hard. She’d just met the infamous missing neurosurgeon, Tom Jordan, and he had danger written all over him.




CHAPTER TWO


TOM worked hard not to say anything to Jared about his driving as the car dodged and wove through the increasing rush-hour traffic. Tom knew this route from the hospital to his apartment as intimately as he knew the inside of a brain. In the past he’d walked it, cycled it and driven it, but he’d never been chauffeured. Now that happened all the time.

Being a passenger in a car had never been easy for him, even before he’d lost his sight. Whenever he’d got into a car he’d had an overwhelming itch to drive. Perhaps it was connected with the fact he’d grown up using public transport because his mother couldn’t afford a car. Whatever the reason, he remembered the moment at sixteen, after a conversation with Mick and Carol, when he’d decided that one day he would own his own car. From his first wreck of a car at twenty, which he’d kept going with spare parts, to the Ferrari that Jared was driving now, he’d always been the one with his hands on the wheel, feeling the car’s grip on the road and loving the thrum of the engine as it purred through the gear changes.

Tom stared out the side window even though he couldn’t make out much more than shadows. ‘Give cyclists a good metre.’

‘Doing it. So, did you crash into anything this morning?’

Tom could imagine the cheeky grin on Jared’s face—the one he always heard in the young man’s voice whenever he’d given him unnecessary instructions. ‘No, I didn’t crash into any walls.’

‘What about that woman you were talking to?’

Hayley Grey. A woman whose smoky voice could change in a moment from the trembling vibrato of fear to the steel of ‘don’t mess with me’. ‘I didn’t crash into her.’

‘She looked pretty ticked off with you just as you left.’

‘Did she?’ He already knew she had been ticked off by his ill-mannered offer—an offer generated by the anger that had blazed through him the moment he’d heard her realisation that he was blind. He refused to allow anyone to pity him. Not even a woman whose voice reminded him of soul music.

Jared had just given him a perfect opportunity to find out more about her. Making the question sound casual, he asked, ‘How exactly did she look?’

‘Stacked. She’s got awesome breasts.’

Tom laughed, remembering the gauche version of himself at the same age. ‘You need to look at women’s faces, Jared, or they’re going to punch you.’

‘I did start with her face, Tom, just like you taught me, but come on, we’re guys, and I thought you’d want to know the important stuff first.’

And even though Jared was only twenty, he was right. When Tom had had his sight, he’d always appreciated the beautiful vision of full and heavy breasts. He suddenly pictured that deep, sensual voice with cleavage and swallowed hard. ‘Fair enough.’

If Jared heard the slight crack in Tom’s voice he didn’t mention it. ‘She’s tall for a chick, got long hair but it was tied back so I dunno if it’s curly or straight, and she’s kinda pretty if you like ‘em with brown hair and brown eyes.’

Knowing Jared’s predilection for brassy blondes, Tom instantly disregarded the ‘kinda’.

‘Her nose wasn’t big but it wasn’t small neither but her mouth …’ Jared slowed to turn.

A ripple of something akin to frustration washed through Tom as he waited for Jared to negotiate the complicated intersection he knew they’d arrived at. The feeling surprised him as much as the previous rush of heat. He hadn’t experienced anything like that since before the accident. Even then work had given him more of a rush than any woman ever had—not that he’d been a recluse. He’d had his fair share of brief liaisons, but he’d always ended them before a woman could mention the words, ‘the future’.

The car turned right, changed lanes and then took a sharp left turn. Tom’s seat belt held him hard against the seat as they took a steep descent toward the water and his apartment. He broke his code and said, ‘What about her mouth?’

‘Her mouth was wide. Like it was used to smiling, even though it wasn’t smiling at you.’

‘I gave her a fright.’ He wasn’t admitting to more than that.

He heard the crank of the massive basement garage door opening, and as Jared waited for it to rise, Tom assembled all the details he’d just been given, rolling them around in his mind, but all he got was a mess of body parts. It was a pointless exercise trying to ‘identikit’ a picture because all of it was from Jared’s perspective.

His gut clenched. He’d lost his job, his career and, damn it, now all he ever got was other people’s perspectives.

Stick with what you know.

His ears, nose and skin had become his eyes so he concentrated on what he’d ‘seen’. Hayley Grey was a contradiction in terms. Her fresh scent of sunshine and summer gardens said innocence and joy, but it was teamed with a voice that held such depth he felt sure it had the range to sing gut-wrenching blues driven by pain.

‘Tom, Carol rang from Fiji. She said, “Good luck with today, not that you’d need it.” I told her you’d call her back. She’s sort of like a mum, isn’t she?’

‘Sort of.’ He smiled as he thought of Carol working with kids in the villages, glad she’d actually respected his wishes and had not come rushing back to Sydney when he’d finally told her about the accident and his blindness. She’d be back in a few weeks, though.

Thinking about Carol’s message grounded him—centring him solidly where he needed to be: in the present. Reminding him he had far more important things to be thinking about than a surgical registrar. Just like before he’d lost his sight, work came ahead of women and now he had even more of a reason to stick to that modus operandi. Sure, he’d given the occasional lecture before he’d gone blind, but he wasn’t known for his lecturing style. No, he’d been known for a hell of a lot more.

What was the saying? ‘Those who can, do, and those who can’t, teach.’ Bitterness surged. Lecturing was hardly going to set the world on fire. The accident had stolen so much from him and was now forcing him to do something that didn’t come naturally, but until he worked out if he was staying in medicine or not, it was all that was open to him. He couldn’t fail. He wouldn’t allow that to happen, especially not in front of his previous colleagues.

He wasn’t afraid of hard work—hell, he’d been working hard since he was fourteen and Mike had challenged him to improve at school so he could stay on the football team. His goals had changed, but his way of achieving them had not—one hundred per cent focus on the job at hand with no distractions from any other quarter. This morning’s trip to SHH had been all about navigating his way around the hospital in preparation for his first lecture. He was determined to show everyone at The Harbour that although his domain had changed and had been radically curtailed, he was still in charge and in control, exactly as he’d been two years ago.

Jared was his sole concession in acknowledging that with driving he required assistance. The fact that Jared had turned up in Perth and refused to leave had contributed to the decision.

‘I’ve got two lectures. One at one p.m. and the other at six.’ Tom hoped he’d hidden his anxiety about the lectures, which had been rising slowly over the last two days. ‘I’ll need you to set up the computer for me both times.’

He heard Jared’s hesitation and his concerns rose another notch. ‘Is there a problem with that?’

‘You know I’d do anything for you, Tom.’

And he did. He’d saved Jared’s life and now Jared was making his life more tolerable.

‘I’ve got a chemistry test at six and I asked the teacher if I could sit it with the full-time students, but that’s the same time as your lecture.’

It had taken Tom weeks to convince Jared to return to school and he wasn’t going to let him miss the test, even though it meant he was going to have to ask for assistance from The Harbour. He swallowed against the acrid taste in his mouth that burned him every time he had to ask for anything. ‘You can’t miss a chem test if you want to get into medicine.’

‘Yeah, but what if someone sets up your computer all wrong?’

Tom gave a grim smile. ‘They wouldn’t dare.’

‘Push fluids!’ Evie Lockheart tried not to let the eviscerating scream of the monitors undo her nerve. She had a patient with a flail chest and she knew without the shadow of a doubt that he was bleeding, but from where exactly she was yet to determine.

‘See this bruise?’ She hovered the ultrasound doppler over her patient’s rigid abdomen.

James, a final-year medical student, peered at it. ‘From a seat belt?’

‘Yes. So we’re starting here and examining the spleen and the liver first.’

‘Even though he’s got a haemothorax?’

‘With his pressure barely holding, we’re looking for a big bleed.’

Everyone stared at the grainy black-and-white images on the small screen. ‘There it is.’ Evie froze the frame. She pointed to a massive blood clot. ‘Ruptured liver, and they bleed like a stuck pig. He needs to go to—’

‘Why the hell isn’t this patient upstairs yet?’

Evie’s team jumped as Finn Kennedy, SHH’s head of surgery, strode into the resus room, blue eyes blazing and his face characteristically taut under the stubble of a two-day growth. His glare scorched everyone.

‘Catheterise our patient,’ Evie instructed the now trembling James, before flicking her gaze to Finn. He looked more drawn than usual but his gaze held a look of combat.

In the past she might have thought to try and placate him, but not now. Not after the night he’d obviously spent with Suzy Carpenter, the nurse from the OR who had the reputation of sleeping with any male who had MD after his name. That Finn had slept with that woman only a few hours after what they’d both shared in the locker room left her in no doubt that she, Evie, meant nothing to Finn.

She lifted her chin. ‘If you want him to bleed out in the lift on the way to Theatre, by all means take him now.’

‘It looks like he’s doing that here.’

‘He’s more stable than he was ten minutes ago when his pressure was sixty over nothing.’

‘Better to have him on the table stopping the bleeding than down here pouring fluids into a leaky bucket.’

‘Five minutes, Finn.’ She ground out the words against a jaw so tight it felt like it would snap.

His eyes flashed brilliant blue with shards of silver steel. ‘Two, Evie.’

‘Catheter inserted, Ms Lockheart.’

‘Excellent.’

‘Packed cells.’ A panting junior nurse rushed in, holding the lifesaving red bags aloft.

‘Check O positive.’

‘Check O positive.’ The nurse stabbed the trocar through the seal and adjusted the flow.

‘Ninety on sixty. Good job, people. James, get the lift,’ Evie instructed, before turning to Finn. ‘He’s all yours.’

‘About damn time.’ Finn kicked off the brakes of the trolley and started pushing it despite the fact that the nurse was putting up a bag of saline. ‘Move it, people!’

A minute later Evie stood in the middle of the resus room with only the detritus of the emergency as company. She could hear Finn barking instructions and knew the nurses and the hapless med student would be shaking in their shoes. The staff feared Finn Kennedy. She had been the one SHH staff member to see a different side of him—the one where she’d glimpsed empathy and tenderness—yet it had been shadowed by overwhelming and gut-wrenching pain.

She swallowed hard as she remembered back to their moment of tenderness in the locker room two weeks ago after one of the worst days of her career. How he’d leaned back into her, how she’d rested her head against his shoulder blade and they’d just stood, cradled together as one with understanding flowing between them. Understanding that life can be cruel. Understanding that some days fear threatened to tear you down. Understanding each other.

Hope had flared inside her, along with flickering need.

And then he’d slept with Suzy.

Don’t go there. She bent down and picked up the discarded sterile bag that had held the intravenous tubing and absently dropped it into the bin. It wasn’t her job to clean up but she needed to keep moving and keep busy because thinking about Finn made her heart ache and she hated that. She wouldn’t allow it. Couldn’t allow it. Letting herself care for Finn Kennedy would be an act of supreme stupidity and if growing up as a Lockheart had taught her anything, it was that being self-contained was a vital part of her life.

‘Move the damn retractor,’ Finn yelled. ‘It’s supposed to be helping me see what I’m doing, not blocking me.’

‘Sorry.’ James hastily moved the retractor.

Finn wasn’t in the mood for dealing with students today. Two minutes ago he’d made an emergency mid-line incision and blood had poured out of the patient’s abdomen, making a lake on the floor. As he concentrated on finding the source of the bleeding, pain burned through his shoulder and down his arm, just as it had done last night and most every other night. It kept him awake and daylight hadn’t soothed it any. Even his favourite highland malt whisky hadn’t touched it.

‘Pressure’s barely holding, Finn.’ The voice of David, the anaesthetist, sounded from behind the sterile screen. ‘Evie did a great job getting him stable for you.’

‘Humph.’ Finn packed more gauze around the liver. He sure as hell hadn’t been in the mood to see Evie. The sharp tilt of her chin, the condemning swing of her honey-brown hair, which matched the reproving glance from those warm hazel eyes, had rammed home how much he’d hurt her the night he’d slept with that nurse from OR.

He’d had no choice.

You always have a choice. You chose to hurt her to protect yourself.

The truth bit into him with a guilt chaser. Giving in and letting his body sink into Evie’s and feeling her body cradling his had been one of those things that just happened between two people in the right place at the right time, but the rush of feeling it had released had been wrong on so many levels. Letting people get close had no value. It just paved the way to heartache and despair, so he’d done what he’d needed to do. But a kernel of guilt burrowed in like a prickly burr, and it remained, making him feel uncomfortable, not just for Evie but for the nurse, whose name he couldn’t remember.

Finn grunted his thanks as the surgical registrar kept the suction up while he zapped another bleeder. The blood loss appeared to be easing, and with the patient’s pressure holding he was confident he was winning the battle. ‘You’re new. Who are you?’

Tired eyes—ones that could match his for fatigue and lack of sleep—blinked at him for a moment from above the surgical mask. ‘Hayley Grey. I’ve been at The Harbour a few weeks, but mostly on nights.’

More blood pooled. His chest tightened. God, this liver was a mess. ‘I don’t need your life story.’

She spoke quietly but firmly. ‘I’m not giving it. This is my final rotation. By the end of the year I should be qualified.’

‘You hope. The exam’s a bastard.’ The packs around the liver were soaked again. ‘More packs.’ He removed the old ones and blood spurted up like a geyser. Monitors screamed with deafening intent.

‘Hell, Finn, what did you do?’ David’s strained voice bounced off the theatre walls. ‘More blood. Now.’

‘It’s under control.’ But it wasn’t. Blood loss like this only meant one thing—a torn hepatic vein. Damn it, the packs had masked it and he’d been dealing with minor bleeders as a result. He pushed the liver aside and gripped the vein between his thumb and forefinger. ‘David, I’m holding the right hepatic vein shut until you’ve got some more blood into him.’ He raised his gaze to his pale registrar. ‘Ever seen a rapid trauma partial liver resection?’

She shook her head. ‘Will you use a laser?’

‘No time.’ With his left hand he pointed to a tear in the liver. ‘I learned this in the army. We start here and do a finger resection. I can have that liver into two pieces in thirty seconds.’ He was gripping the vein so hard that his thumb and index finger started to go numb. ‘Ready, David?’

‘One more unit.’

‘Make it quick.’ He pressed his fingers even harder, although he couldn’t feel much. ‘I’ll need a clamp and 4-0 prolene.’

‘Ready.’ The scrub nurse opened the thread.

‘Be fast, Finn.’ There was no masking of the worry in the anaesthetist’s voice.

‘I intend to be. Keep that sucker ready, Ms Grey.’

He released his grip and slid his fingers through the liver. The expected tingling of his own blood rushing into his numb fingers didn’t come. They continued to feel thick and heavy. ‘Clamp!’

He grabbed it with his left hand and saw surprise raise the scrub nurse’s brows.

‘Hurry up, Finn,’ David urged. ‘Much longer and there’ll be more blood in the suction bottle than in the patient.’

Blood spewed, the scream of monitors deafened and sweat poured into his eyes. You’re losing him. ‘Just do your job, David, and I’ll do mine.’ He snarled out the words as he managed to apply the clamp.

He flexed his fingers on his right hand, willing the sensation to return to his thumb and index finger. He could do some things with his left hand but he couldn’t sew. He accepted the threaded needle from the scrub nurse and could see the thread resting against the pad of his thumb. He couldn’t feel it. With leaden fingers he started to oversew the vein but the thread fell from his numb fingers. He cursed and tried to pick it up but the lack of sensation had him misjudging it. He dropped it again.

Another set of fingers entered the field, firmly pushing the sucker against his left palm and deftly picking up the thread. With a few quick and dexterous flicks, the registrar completed the oversewing before taking back the suction.

Finn’s throat tightened and he swallowed down the roar of frustrated fury that she’d taken over. That she’d needed to take over. He barked out, ‘Remove the clamp.’

Hayley removed the clamp. All eyes stared down.

The field mercifully stayed clear of blood.

‘Lucky save, Finn,’ said David from behind the screen.

Except David hadn’t seen who’d stopped the bleeding.

Brown eyes slowly met Finn’s but there was no sign of triumph in the registrar’s gaze, or even a need for recognition that she’d been the one to save the patient. Instead, there was only a question. One very similar to the query he’d seen on Luke’s face. And on Evie’s.

Don’t go there. He stared at Hayley. ‘And next, Ms Grey?’

‘We complete the resection of the right side of the liver?’

‘And you’ve done that before?’

‘I have, yes, during elective surgery.’

The pain in his arm grew spikes and the numbness in his finger and thumb remained. Any hope that it would fade in the next few minutes had long passed. ‘Good. You’re going to do it again.’ He stepped back from the table and stripped off his gloves then spoke to remind her of hospital protocol.

‘Oh, and, Ms Grey, as surgical registrar you must attend the series of lectures that start today. They count toward your professional hours. Your log book needs to be verified and notify my secretary of the conferences you wish to attend so they can be balanced off with the other registrars’ requirements.’

He didn’t wait for a reply. As chief of surgery it was his prerogative to leave closing up to the minions. The fact that today he’d needed to scared him witless.

Hayley accepted the tallest and strongest coffee the smiling barista said she could make and hoped the caffeine would kick in fast. The plan for the day had been to sleep and arrive just in time for the six o’clock lecture, but the moment her head had hit the pillow she’d been called in to work again due to a colleague’s illness. This time she’d found herself scrubbed in with the chief of surgery. Finn Kennedy was every thing everyone said—tall, brusque and brilliant. The way he’d finger-dissected their patient’s liver to save his life had been breathtaking. But his gruff manner and barked commands made it impossible to relax around him. Cognisant of the fact that he was her direct boss, she’d been determined to make a good impression. Ironically, she’d effectively killed that idea by acting on pure instinct and taking over in mid-surgery when he hadn’t been able to make the closure. She’d fully expected Mr Kennedy to order her out of his theatre, but instead he’d been the one to leave. She wondered if she’d be reprimanded later.

Probably. She sighed, not wanting to think about it, so she set it aside like she did a lot of things—a survival habit she’d adopted at eleven. She’d deal with it if it ever happened. Right now, she needed to deal with no sleep in twenty-four hours and staying awake through 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 stand alone at the front of the theatre, hearing twitters of derision or pity.

He checked the time again with his fingers, and his chest tightened. The IT person still hadn’t arrived and Jared’s worst-case scenario had just come true. He thought of how he’d once commanded a crack team of surgeons, nurses and allied health professionals, and how their groundbreaking surgery had made headlines around the world. He’d demanded perfection but he’d never asked for anything.

But everything in his life had changed and he was being dragged kicking and screaming in the slipstream. His throat tightened and he gripped the lectern so hard the edge bit into his palm, but that pain was nothing compared to what was about to happen. Summoning up steely determination, he made himself say the words he never wanted to utter. ‘I need you to stay and be my eyes.’




CHAPTER THREE


‘I’M NOT saying there weren’t moments when I thought that the surgery might result in brain damage. In fact, there were many such moments, but as a surgical team we were committed to trying to offer these little twin boys, conjoined at the head since birth, a better life.’

Hayley listened spellbound as Tom Jordan’s deep and confident voice boomed through the speakers while he presented his most groundbreaking neurological case. Something fell on her feet and with a rush of surprise she realised the printed version of his presentation had slipped off her lap. Initially, she’d done as Tom had asked and had turned each page of the document when he’d pressed his remote control to change the slide on the screen. This meant that she would know exactly what slide he was up to should something go awry with the computer, the data projector or the microphone.

Tom had been brusquely specific about the job he’d imposed on her, making her repeat his instructions back to him as if she was a child and not a nearly qualified surgeon. She’d almost told him to stick his lecture notes where ‘the sun don’t shine’, but the edge of anxiety that had dared to hover around his commanding, broad shoulders had made her stay.

It hadn’t taken long before she’d become so caught up in the story and the technicalities of the surgery that she’d forgotten all about page turning. Instead, she was having a series of mini-moments of hero-worship as the implications of what Tom Jordan and his team had achieved sank in. It had been the ‘moon landing’ of surgeries.

‘This surgery was the culmination of two years of work, and innovation was key.’ Tom stared at the back of the room as he spoke. ‘Not only were we successful, we paved the way for other neurosurgeons, and earlier this year a similar operation took place in the UK.’

She leaned down, picking up the folder, and then glanced up at Tom. The tense, angry and pedantic man who’d greeted her earlier was gone. In his place was a brilliant surgeon, his long, lean and tanned fingers resting purposely on his braille notes. Notes he didn’t need because she knew he could ‘see’ the surgery. At this very moment he was inside those little boys’ brains, and his passion for their well-being and giving them the chance at a normal life filled the auditorium, along with a sense of humility that he and his team had been given such an opportunity.

There was nothing dry and dusty about Tom Jordan and he held the silent audience in the palm of his hand. No one was nodding off to sleep or fiddling with their phone or doodling. Everyone was leaning forward, interested and attentive, and fascinated by the report of brilliant surgery told in an educative yet entertaining style.

All too soon the lecture was over and Hayley felt a zip of disappointment. She could have listened to Tom for a lot longer, but after he’d fielded questions for fifteen minutes he wound it all up. People started to leave and although some lingered for a moment as if they wanted to speak with Tom, most left without talking to him, their faces filled with a mixture of sympathy and embarrassment—what did you say to someone who’d lost their career?

Finn Kennedy stopped and gave his usual curt greeting before moving off quickly when Evie stepped up with Theo. Both of them greeted Tom warmly and as they departed, two men passed and started chatting to each other before they were out of earshot. ‘Damn shame. He was the best and now—’

Hayley saw Tom’s shoulders stiffen.

He heard them.

Of course he’d heard—the man had almost bionic hearing. She rushed to speak in the hope of drowning out the thoughtless remarks. In her post-lecture awe, she spoke more loudly than she intended. ‘That was amazing.’

Tom flinched and turned toward her, his face granite. ‘I’m blind, Hayley, not deaf.’

‘I realise that, it’s just that …’ She didn’t think he’d take kindly to her saying she’d had a crazy urge to protect his feelings when he didn’t seem to have any problem with trampling on hers. Stick to the surgery topic. ‘I was in the UK when I heard about that surgery. I didn’t realise it was you who’d led the team.’

‘So now you know.’ He turned away from her and pushed down the lid of his laptop with a sharp snap.

Her mind was flying on the inspirational lecture and the fact she was in the presence of the man the world media had declared ‘a trailblazer’. ‘It must have been the most incredible buzz when you realised you’d pulled it off.’

His generous mouth pulled into a grim smile. ‘It’s something you never forget.’

‘I bet. I would have loved to have been there and seen you operating.’

His hands stilled on the laptop case. ‘That chance is long gone.’

A tingle of embarrassment shot through her. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you that …’ Oh, God, oh, God, shut up! She closed her eyes and stifled a groan. She’d managed to wrong-foot herself twice in two minutes.

‘You didn’t mean to remind me that I can no longer operate? How very thoughtful and considerate of you, Hayley.’

His sarcasm stung like the tail of a whip and this time she was the one to flinch. ‘I think I need to start over. What I was trying to say was that your lecture was the best one I’ve heard. Ever heard.’ She smiled and tried to joke. ‘And, believe me, I’ve heard a lot of boring lectures in the last ten years. You’re a gun lecturer and The Harbour’s fortunate to have you.’

He slung his laptop bag abruptly across his chest. ‘Aw, shucks. Stop now, you’re embarrassing me.’

But his icy tone sounded far from embarrassed and with a wicked flick he extended his cane. She jumped sideways, narrowly avoiding being hit.

‘I’m so glad that you’re honouring me with the title of “gun” lecturer,’ he continued. ‘I mean, after all, that’s what the last twenty years of my life have been about. Forget neurosurgery. Forget saving lives or improving lives and lessening pain. All of that pales into insignificance compared to giving a gun lecture, especially to a group of people who’ll probably never come close to achieving the level of technical expertise I was known for.’ He started walking. ‘But you wouldn’t understand that, Hayley.’

His words fired into her like a shot, and she crossed her arms to stop herself from trembling from his unexpected verbal assault. To stop herself shaking from an incandescent fury that was fuelled by his deliberate misconstruction of her sentiments, and his belief that he alone had suffered in life. She knew far too intimately about loss and how life went on regardless.

He was blind, not dead, and she wasn’t treading carefully around him any more. ‘Were you this rude before you went blind?’

He stopped walking and his roared reply echoed around the now empty auditorium. ‘I was a neurosurgeon.’

She swayed at the blast. ‘I’ll take that as a “yes”, then.’

For a moment he didn’t speak. His sightless emerald eyes continued to stare at her but his previously hard expression had softened a touch. ‘Out of curiosity, Hayley, are you new to The Harbour because you were asked to leave your last post?’

As a woman in the very male-dominated world of surgery, she’d learned early to stand her ground. Something told her this was the only approach with the darkly charismatic Tom Jordan. Her chin shot up. ‘My recommendations from The Royal in London make the paper they’re written on glow in the dark.’

She waited for a sarcastic put-down but a beat went by and then he laughed. A big, bold, deep laugh that made his eyes crinkle up at the edges and sparkle like the sea on a sunny day.

‘Which is why I imagine you got a coveted surgical registrar’s position at The Harbour.’

She dropped her arms by her sides and relaxed slightly, knowing his statement was as close as a man like Tom Jordan would ever come to a compliment. ‘It was the top of my list because of its association with Parkes University.’

‘Mine too.’ His brows drew down for a moment and then he seemed to throw off the frown. ‘You said before you had a hellish day and mine, as you’ve adroitly deduced, wasn’t much better. How about we end it in a more pleasant way and I buy you dinner?’

Shocked surprise sent her blood swooping to her toes and was instantly followed by a flare of heat. Dinner? The idea of dinner with Tom Jordan the surgeon delighted her because she’d love to hear more about his pioneering operations. The idea of dinner with Tom Jordan the man didn’t generate quite the same feelings. An evening of verbal sparring would be exhausting and she was already beyond tired, but there was also a tiny part of her that was intrigued. He was heart-stoppingly handsome, just as the nurses had told her, but his soul had a shadow on it darker than his cocoa-coloured hair. That was enough to warn her that dinner wasn’t a good idea.

That and the fact that she generally didn’t date.

Vacillating, she bit her lip. ‘That’s very kind of you but—’

‘But what?’ The thin veneer of politeness that covered all that raw energy and ‘take no prisoners’ attitude cracked yet again.

She almost snapped at him and said, ‘Because of that’, but as she opened her mouth she saw a different tension in his jaw. He’s expecting you to say no. The thought made her stomach squirm. Did he really think she’d reject his invitation because he was blind?

Rude, yes, blind, no.

She thought of all the people at the lecture who’d known him when he’d been head of neurosurgery and who’d prevaricated and then chosen not to speak to him because they didn’t know what to say to the man who’d once held the pinnacle of all surgery positions. She wouldn’t do that to him even if the thought of dinner came more under the banner of duty than pleasure.

Decision made, she pulled her shoulders back. ‘I was going to say I’m not really dressed for dinner.’

‘Dressed or naked makes no difference to me, but I assume you have clothes on.’

Her breasts tingled at the lazy way his mouth roved over the word ‘naked’ and she was thankful he couldn’t see her pebbled nipples pushing against her T-shirt. As she tried to get her wayward body back under control she managed to splutter out an inane ‘Of course I’ve got clothes on.’

His brows rose and he extended his arm. ‘Then you’re dressed for dinner. Hurry up before I change my mind.’

She rolled her eyes but slid her arm under his. His fingers immediately curved around her elbow, his warmth seeping through her long-sleeved T-shirt. ‘I’m completely bowled over by your charm.’

‘Of course you are.’

He smiled at her and her knees sagged. Dimples carved through evening stubble, changing everything about him. The hard planes of his face yielded to the softer lines of humour, light replaced dark and bitter gave way to sweet. Everything inside her melted. What have I just gone and done?

The sarcastic, bitter man was easy to resist. This more human version of Tom Jordan—not so much.

What the hell possessed you?

Now that Tom was seated opposite Hayley at Warung Bali, a casual restaurant a short walk from the hospital, the reality of inviting her to dinner hit him hard. He’d shocked himself with the unanticipated invitation, which had come out of nowhere. One minute he’d been livid with the injustice of everything that had happened to him and not being able to operate, and the next he’d found himself smiling and the anger had faded slightly.

Still, dinner?

Yes, that had probably been overkill, but after the lecture, part of him had wanted to hold on to something that resembled normality. Before blindness had stolen more than his sight, he’d often dated and more than once he’d taken a nurse or a resident for an impromptu drink at Pete’s. He’d avoided Pete’s tonight because revisiting the social hub of The Harbour on ‘half-price Wednesdays’ would have been more than he could bear.

The reaction of the medical students to his lecture at lunchtime had been in stark contrast to that of his colleagues this evening. It had taken him close to an hour to deal with the number of students who’d wanted to speak to him at the end of the lecture. Only a few of his previous colleagues had made themselves known to him and he understood why. If his career had been chopped off at the knees from one act of fate, then so could theirs be, and it terrified them. So they’d avoided him.

Now he was avoiding them.

He’d brought Hayley to this restaurant because he often ate here and it was a short walk from his apartment. Prior to tonight, he’d only ever eaten here alone so he hadn’t anticipated that Wayan, the owner, would give Hayley such a rapturous welcome and offer champagne.

Tom had quickly gone into damage control. This wasn’t a date. It was just a meal with a fellow doctor and an attempt at reality—nothing more, nothing less. In the past, he’d rarely taken anyone out more than once so the chances of this ever being repeated were exceedingly slim.

‘Hayley is a colleague at the hospital, Wayan.’

‘Hello, Wayan.’ Her smoky voice had been infused with warmth. ‘As much as the idea of champagne is tempting, I’m on call and iced water would be wonderful.’

They’d discussed the menu, ordered their food, which had arrived promptly, and the pungent bouquet of lemon grass, coriander, peanut satay and chilli hadn’t disappointed. The flavours on his tongue matching the promise of the tantalising aroma. Wayan had placed the food on the table and as Tom had instructed him on his very first visit said, ‘On your plate, satay’s at twelve o’clock, rice at three and vegetables at nine.’

Both he and Hayley had eaten in relative silence with only an occasional comment about the food. When he’d finally balled his serviette and dropped it on his plate he heard the clink of ice against glass, but it wasn’t the movement caused by someone taking a sip. It was more continuous and he knew Hayley was stirring with her straw and staring down at her drink, probably wondering why she’d come.




Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.


Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/fiona-lowe/sydney-harbour-hospital-tom-s-redemption/) на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.