His Emergency Fiancée (4 page)

‘Have you seen much keyhole surgery, Fisher?’ Chambers asked.

‘Er—not really,’ Paul said, flushing.

Kirsty noted that he didn’t ask
her.
Obviously she was still in disgrace for daring to leave the surgical ward without his permission.

‘We’re presented with a case of chronic cholecystitis. Which means what, Fisher?’

‘Inflammation of the gall bladder that’s gone on for a long time.’

‘Good. Symptoms?’

Paul seemed to relax, back on familiar ground. ‘Vague digestive complaints—abdominal discomfort, flatulence, especially after rich or fatty foods, dull pain, nausea and vomiting.’

‘Presence of calculi?’

‘If there are gallstones, they’ll grow larger in size or number as the condition goes on.’

Textbook answer, Kirsty thought approvingly.

‘Jaundice?’

Paul thought about it. ‘Not sure.’

Was he going to ask her? Kirsty waited. But, no, Chambers went straight into the answer. ‘May be present if the inflammation involves the bile ducts. Other symptoms?’

‘Scarring and thickening of the wall of the gall bladder,’ Paul said.

‘And cholestasis,’ Chambers added. ‘Well done, Fisher.’ He gave Kirsty a look. ‘And we’ll remove the stones how, Brown?’

She’d have preferred him to have used her first name—or at least add her title to her surname, to be more courteous—but it was obviously his way and she’d have to lump it. ‘If they’re just in the gall bladder, either by cholecystostomy—drainage—or by cholecystectomy—removal. If the patient’s already had the gall bladder removed but still has symptoms, we’d try ERCP,’ she said. Endoscopic retrograde cholangiopancreatopgraphy, or ERCP, was where a combination of a fibre-optic endoscope and a contrast medium showed the location of gallstones, usually in the bile ducts. ‘We’d need to measure the patient’s blood coagulation levels, do cross-matching and check blood type, and give antibiotics and IV fluid before the procedure.’

He nodded. ‘Major problems?’

‘Haemorrhage and infection.’

‘In this case, the gall bladder’s still present so we’ll do a cholecystectomy by laparoscope,’ he said. ‘Keyhole surgery means a faster recovery time.’

And Kirsty was itching to do this herself—keyhole surgery was what she really wanted to specialise in, something she loved even more than cardiothoracic work. Maybe she could learn from him. Maybe this would be the thing to smooth over the cracks in their working relationship.

He was thorough, she thought as she watched him remove the gall bladder and explore the bile duct for stones. He just needed to work on his people skills—not that she could suggest it. For a start, it wasn’t protocol; and how could you tell a difficult person that they were hopeless with people, without making them defensive and their behaviour even worse?

She watched as he inserted a T-tube to drain the bileduct.

‘Close for me, Fisher.’

This time, he left Kirsty to supervise. Paul carefully closed, clamped the T-tube ready for transfer, and they accompanied the patient back down to Recovery.

‘Are you OK with what happens next?’ she asked Paul. ‘Post-op care?’

‘Attach drainage tube to receptacle, check tube for kinks, secure to dressing and lower bed linen and show patient how to turn over without pulling or compressing the tube,’ he recited. ‘Check dressings frequently for leakage or bleeding, check the patient is taking proper breaths instead of shallow ones, check nursing support for frequent coughing and breathing.’

She grinned. ‘Spot on.’

When Mrs Morgan was settled, they walked down to the ward together. As they reached Chambers’s office, she paused. ‘See you later, Paul. I just want a quick word with Mr C.’

The back of her neck felt hot, but this had to be done. If she faced him now, they could clear up the problem quickly—if she left it, things could get even worse. She didn’t want it to drag on and on and affect her work. She rapped on the door. ‘Mr Chambers? Could I have a word, please?’

He looked up from his desk. ‘Brown.’

She closed the door behind her and waited for him to ask her to sit down. He didn’t, he just looked at her.

She took a deep breath. ‘I think we need to clear up a problem.’

‘Problem?’

Was he saying that it was all in her head? ‘Mr Chambers, I get the impression that you don’t like me very much. As we have to work on the same firm, I’d like to think we could overcome any personal differences on a professional level.’

‘Really.’

The drawl made her want to slap his face. She wasn’t the one in the wrong—she’d simply asked him not to touch her again, and she’d been perfectly calm and polite about it. She sighed inwardly. He wasn’t going to give a millimetre, was he? ‘I’m an experienced registrar. Why don’t you make use of me?’

‘What precisely are you offering, Brown?’

She flushed. She should have guessed he’d interpret it
that
way, given his groping habits. ‘I’m used to operating. On simple cases, I supervise Paul and let him lead; on more complex ones, Tony used to let me lead and treated it as a teaching case for Paul.’

‘And?’

‘He used to ask us both questions.’

‘Obviously he had confidence in you.’

She frowned. ‘Of course. We’d worked together for a while. I was hoping you and I would be able to work together the same way.’

He leaned back in his chair. ‘Tony gave you glowing references.’

What was she supposed to say to that? ‘Yes,’ was too smug, ‘Did he?’ was false modesty and ‘No’ was saying she had no confidence in herself and was useless at her job. She took refuge in silence.

He folded his arms. ‘You were having an affair, weren’t you?’

‘What?’ Kirsty stared at him, taken aback. ‘Of course we weren’t!’

He gave a little shrug, as if he didn’t believe her. ‘So you want to work with me the way you worked with Tony.’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I suggest you’re as…accommodating with me.’

Surely he wasn’t suggesting…? ‘How do you mean?’ she asked carefully.

‘I think you know. Keep me happy…’ to her disgust, he actually licked his lips ‘…and I’ll see what I can do for your career.’

Meaning that if she didn’t sleep with him, he’d make sure she lost her job? She didn’t trust herself to answer. What she really wanted to do was to slap that nasty little smile from his face. In real life, that wasn’t an option. Instead, she gave him one of her coldest glares and left his office.

He really thought she’d sleep with him to help her career? The sheer arrogance took her breath away. But what could she do now? If she went to Personnel, it was his word against hers. And a consultant’s words were worth more than a registrar’s. If she applied for another job, she’d have to ask someone else for a reference and the interviewer was bound to ask her why her immediate boss hadn’t given her a reference. And if she stayed…

Then she remembered what Ben had said last night. ‘Guy Chambers’ll think you’re unavailable so he’ll leave you alone.’

Right now, that was the best option she had.

She paged him from Jenny’s office.

Three minutes later, the phone rang. She snatched it up. ‘Surgical.’

‘Ben Robertson. You paged me?’

‘It’s Kirsty.’

‘Kirst? What’s up? Adam? I got your note. Well done for spotting what we’d all missed. He said you’d been dragged back to work.’

‘No, it’s not Adam, though I do want to talk to you about him later. It’s what you asked me last night.’ She swallowed. ‘I’ve made my decision. It’s yes.’

‘Are you sure?’

No, but she was so angry with Guy Chambers that she suppressed her doubts. ‘Yes,’ she said tightly, and put the phone down before Ben could try to talk her out of it.

CHAPTER THREE

‘W
HAT
made you change your mind?’ Ben asked that evening, when they were sharing a Chinese takeaway.

‘I thought about it, that’s all. Your gran’s important.’

‘Hmm.’ Ben didn’t sound convinced but, to Kirsty’s relief, he didn’t push it. ‘How was your afternoon with Dr Jekyll?’

‘Haven’t met him—just Mr Hyde,’ she muttered with a grimace.

‘Hey, it’ll all come out in the wash. He’s just the new boy trying to make an impression, that’s all. Give him a couple of weeks and he’ll be a pussycat.’

She didn’t answer. If she told Ben what had really happened in Chambers’s office that afternoon, he’d do his protective big brother act and warn Chambers off—and, in retaliation, Chambers would make her life hell. What had she said to Adam? That brains and technique won every time…Right now, she wasn’t so sure that she believed it.

‘So, are you on duty this weekend?’

‘Yes, but I can swap shifts with someone if you want to go to Scotland.’ She’d swap shifts with anyone—do double, treble even—if it meant not having to work with Chambers!

‘Great.’ He eyed the last pancake on the plate between them. ‘D’you want any more of that crispy duck?’

‘Yes, actually.’

‘Spoilsport.’ He expertly filled the pancake with hoisin sauce, duck and vegetables, wrapped it up, took a huge bite—then fed the other half of the pancake to her.

She was staggeringly aware of his nearness—of how long and supple and strong his fingers were—and groaned inwardly. No. Don’t say she was losing her immunity to Dr Charming. Not now. Not when the rest of her life was falling apart. This was one complication she could do without!

‘You’re going to have to work on that a bit,’ Ben said, surprising her.

‘What?’

‘Me touching you. If you hadn’t been sitting down just now you’d have leapt back six feet. My fiancée would be used to me being touchy-feely.’

She bit her lip. ‘Sorry.’

‘Hey.’ He stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers. ‘It’s me, remember? Ben. Best-friend Ben. I’m not going to do anything to hurt you. You know that.’ He paused. ‘What’s your ring size?’

‘I’ve no idea. Why?’

‘For your engagement ring,’ he reminded her. ‘Gran’ll expect it.’

‘Tell her I can’t wear a ring at work. It’s not hygienic.’

‘And you’re a surgeon. I know, I know.’ He smiled at her. ‘Which is why you wear it on a chain round your neck at work.’

He was infuriating, the way he had an answer for everything. ‘Ben, I—’

‘By the way, I owe you one.’

She frowned. ‘How do you mean?’

‘My distraction case. Young Adam. How did you guess he was being bullied?’

She shrugged. ‘He reminded me of someone I once knew.’

He gave her a searching look, but to her relief he didn’t push it. ‘He asked me to thank you. He said he was going to find out about martial arts.’

‘Good.’

‘I thought of alcohol abuse, maybe drugs—but I hadn’t thought steroids,’ Ben continued.

‘Acne, aggressiveness and rampant testosterone,’ Kirsty recited dryly.

‘Don’t tell me. Takes a woman to see it?’

She chuckled. ‘No. Actually, I was winging it. Lucky guess.’

‘If you’re that good, you can pick my lottery numbers for the next month.’

‘If I was that good, I’d already have won it,’ she pointed out.

‘Yeah. Well, I can dream. You go and sort your shifts out—you’ll need Friday afternoon off, too, because our flight’s at four—and I’ll do the washing-up.’

‘
You’ll
do the washing-up?’ she teased.

‘I’m house-trained,’ he protested.

‘Barely.’

He grinned. ‘And whose fault is that, Kirsty Brown?’

She pulled a face.

‘Go and sort out your off-duty, woman, then run yourself a long bath and forget about Guy Chambers.’

If only, Kirsty thought, it was as easy as that.

* * *

She was on a late, the next day, whereas Ben was on an early. Their breaks didn’t coincide and, even if they had, after the row she’d had with Chambers the previous day she thought it politic to stay around the ward. She busied herself talking to Elsie Morgan and a couple of other patients who were recovering from surgery, and kept her nose firmly in her books when she was in the mess room. Chambers ignored her on the ward and barely spoke to her in Theatre; he only grudgingly allowed her to help with retractors and suction.

Kirsty only just managed to rein in her temper. Why was he treating her like a still-wet-behind-the-ears junior when he knew she had the paper qualifications to back up her position and her records showed she’d led several major operations, only calling Tony in when she’d needed help? She hadn’t slept her way up, whatever Chambers claimed to think. She’d never even thought of Tony as a potential mate—he was twenty years older than she was, more like an uncle than anything else, and was going to celebrate his silver wedding to Helen next year.

But if Chambers thought it…did everyone else?

Damn the man. He’d managed to undermine her confidence and her trust in her colleagues in the space of five minutes.

Maybe, Kirsty thought, he had a point. If someone like
him
could put her off, maybe she wasn’t cut out for the job. Maybe it was time to have a serious think about her future. She smiled wryly. At least she had someone to discuss it with. Ben would put her straight.

But he was out when she came home that evening. He hadn’t left any scribbled notes for her beneath the salt-cellar—the place they’d agreed on years ago so they’d never miss an important message—so she stretched out on the sofa with an old film and a tub of ice cream. Wherever he’d gone, he wasn’t back by the time she went to bed and he wasn’t up by the time she left for work the next morning, though this time there was a message under the salt-cellar: ‘See you at midday outside Jimmy’s. I’ve booked a taxi to the airport. B. x.’

* * *

Late on the Friday afternoon, they were several thousand feet up in the air on a tiny plane from Southbay to Inverness. ‘For you,’ he said, handing her a beautifully wrapped parcel. ‘It’s a cheering-up present.’

A box that size couldn’t contain a ring—so he’d obviously seen sense, she thought with relief. She undid the crimson ribbon, unwrapped the gold paper and beamed when she saw the embossing on the lid of the box. Her favourites. Hand-made white chocolates from the expensive confectioner’s round the corner from Jimmy’s. ‘Oh, yes! Thanks, Ben,’ she said, kissing him lightly on the cheek.