Welcome to the world of St Piran’s Hospital—

Next to the rugged shores of Penhally Bay lies the picturesque Cornish town of St Piran, where you’ll find a bustling hospital famed for the dedication, talent and passion of its staff—on and off the wards!

Under the warmth of the Cornish sun, Italian doctors, heart surgeons and playboy princes discover that romance blossoms in the most unlikely of places …

You’ll also meet the devilishly handsome Dr Josh O’Hara and the beautiful, fragile Megan Phillips … and discover the secret that tore these star-crossed lovers apart.

Turn the page to step into St Piran’s— where every drama has a dreamy doctor … and a happy ending.

Dear Reader

Many years ago I was lucky enough to visit Cornwall, and I absolutely loved it.

The contrast between the sandy coves and the coast, where the surf crashes onto wild rocks. The stretches of rugged farmland and the villages with gorgeous old cottages. The Cornish cream teas … mmm.

I’ve always wanted to go back, and the invitation to be part of the St Piran’s Hospital series was irresistible. Not only could I revisit—at least in my imagination— the physical setting, I could get to know the people I’d already enjoyed meeting in Penhally a whole lot better.

Best of all, I got a really tortured hero. I’ve never had one quite as dark as my Luke, but it was amazingly easy to fall in love with him. Just like Anna does.

I hope you do, too.

Happy reading!

Love

Alison

ST PIRAN’S HOSPITAL

Where every drama has a dreamy doctor … and a happy ending.

In December we gave you the first two St Piran’s stories in one month!

Nick Tremayne and Kate Althorp finally got their happy-ever-after in: ST PIRAN’S: THE WEDDING OF THE YEAR by Caroline Anderson

Dr Izzy Bailey was swept off her feet by sexy Spaniard Diego Ramirez: ST PIRAN’S: RESCUING PREGNANT CINDERELLA by Carol Marinelli

In January the arrival of sizzlingly hot Italian neurosurgeon Giovanni Corezzi was enough to make any woman forget the cold! ST PIRAN’S: ITALIAN SURGEON, FORBIDDEN BRIDE by Margaret McDonagh

Last month daredevil doc William MacNeil unexpectedly discovered he was a father in: ST PIRAN’S: DAREDEVIL, DOCTOR … DAD! by Anne Fraser

And this month the new heart surgeon has everyone’s pulses racing in: ST PIRAN’S: HER BROODING HEART SURGEON by Alison Roberts

Fireman Tom Nicholson steals Flora Loveday’s heart in April ST PIRAN’S: THE FIREMAN AND NURSE LOVEDAY by Kate Hardy

Newborn twins could just bring a May marriage miracle for Brianna and Connor Taylor ST PIRAN’S: TINY MIRACLE TWINS by Maggie Kingsley

And playboy Prince Alessandro Cavalieri honours St Piran’s with a visit in June ST PIRAN’S: PRINCE ON THE CHILDREN’S WARD by Sarah Morgan

About the Author

ALISON ROBERTS lives in Christchurch, New Zealand. She began her working career as a primary school teacher, but now juggles available working hours between writing and active duty as an ambulance officer. Throwing in a large dose of parenting, housework, gardening and pet-minding keeps life busy, and teenage daughter Becky is responsible for an increasing number of days spent on equestrian pursuits. Finding time for everything can be a challenge, but the rewards make the effort more than worthwhile.

Recent titles by the same author:

THE MARRY-ME WISH*

WISHING FOR A MIRACLE*

NURSE, NANNY … BRIDE!

HOT-SHOT SURGEON, CINDERELLA BRIDE

THE ITALIAN SURGEON’S CHRISTMAS MIRACLE

* Part of the Baby Gift collection

ST PIRAN’S:

THE BROODING

HEART SURGEON

BY

ALISON ROBERTS

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHAPTER ONE

IF LOOKS could kill, Luke Davenport would be a dead man.

Dr Anna Bartlett had finally deigned to join him in Theatre for her assigned job of assisting him in a potentially complicated procedure, and she was clearly less than impressed that he had decided to go ahead without her.

Sure, he’d received a message while reviewing his patient’s notes that she was caught up in the emergency department of St Piran’s hospital with a chest trauma case requiring a thoracotomy and would therefore be late, but what had she expected? That he would delay the case until she arrived? This patient had already had to wait longer than he should have for his surgery. In any case, if the patient in Emergency survived the aggressive procedure to try and stabilise him, Dr Bartlett would be the only person available to take them to another theatre and that left Luke in precisely the same place— having to find someone else to assist him in surgery. Thankfully, this wasn’t that difficult given the talented staff this hospital could boast, and paediatric cardiac surgeon James Alexander had been available and only too willing to assist the returning head of department.

James had joined the staff in the eighteen months Luke had been away. He was not only settled in the area but married to Charlotte, a senior registrar in the cardiology department. Just one of a countless number of changes. So many it was hard for Luke to imagine he’d once been a part of all this. It was frightening how one’s world could change in a heartbeat.

Like Luke’s had done when the news of his younger brother’s death had rocked the seemingly solid foundations of his life and prompted the radical decision to join a military medical unit. Nothing would ever be the same and yet here he was, trying to pick up the pieces of his old life.

If it felt wrong to him, it was no wonder he was an unwelcome disturbance in Anna Bartlett’s world. She’d had enough time to become part of this medical community. To stake a claim and make this department her own. Maybe that was the real reason for the resentment he could detect. That he was in charge again.

It would be a bit of a blow to anyone’s ego, wouldn’t it, being bumped from a position as top dog? Everybody had known that his replacement was temporary but nobody had expected him to return so abruptly. Maybe Anna had secretly thought he might never return from Iraq. To add insult to injury, it wasn’t the first time Luke had taken the position from her. He’d been the winner three years ago when he’d been chosen over her for the prestigious role of head of St Piran’s specialist heart surgery unit.

Yes. That could well explain the death glare he’d caught from over the top of the mask as Anna had finally entered the theatre. She stood outside the cluster of staff around the operating table now, gowned and masked, her gloved hands held carefully away from her body. Taller than average, he noted in that split second of noticing her arrival, and her eyes were green. Very cool right now because she was displeased and that made them seem hard—like uncut emeralds. Unusual enough to make a lasting impression. As did her body language. The way she was standing so absolutely still. It advertised the kind of attention to detail, like not contaminating anything, that came from being not only well trained but highly disciplined.

He’d heard that about her from James as they’d scrubbed in together. That his missing assistant was skilled and meticulous. Uncompromising. Single because she chose to be. Or maybe no man could compete with a job that someone lived and breathed to the exclusion of anything else.

‘She’s good,’ James had added. ‘Very good. You’ll be pleased she’s taken on the job of Assistant Head of Surgery. With the reputation she’s built here, she could have gone anywhere she chose.’

James obviously respected Dr Bartlett but he’d also said he didn’t really know her. Not on a personal level. The way his sentence had trailed off in a puzzled tone had suggested that maybe she didn’t have a personal level.

It was James who acknowledged her presence now, however.

‘Anna! That was quick.’ He gave his colleague a closer glance and frowned. ‘No go, huh?’

‘No.’ The word was crisp. The attempt to save someone in the emergency department had failed. That was that. An unsuccessful case. Time to move on to the next. ‘Want me to take over?’

‘If that’s all right with Luke. I am rather late to start my ward round now and I’ve got my own theatre slot this afternoon.’ James sealed another small blood vessel with the diathermy rod and then looked up at the surgeon across the table. ‘Luke? Have you met Anna already?’

‘No.’ His response was as curt as Anna’s verdict on her emergency case had been.

He carried on with the long, vertical incision he was making in his patient’s chest, not looking up until James moved in to control the bleeding.

She was standing closer to the table now. A mask covered the lower half of her face and a disposable hat hid her hair and ears. All he could see were those green eyes and for a split second the accusation in them hit home.

Yesterday he had been supposed to meet the woman who’d looked after his job for eighteen months, but there’d been that hassle at his house with a burst pipe and there had been no water supply. There’d been a problem getting power reconnected as well, after such a long period of being empty, so he’d had no way of recharging the battery for his mobile phone when it had died. The hassles had underscored the fact that he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be back here anyway and … and she hadn’t waited for him, had she? He’d been less than an hour late but she had gone home and hadn’t left any message other than the theatre list for this morning.

And now she was glaring at him as if accepting her belated assistance for this surgery was only the first challenge he had coming his way. Well, she could take her attitude and deal with it on her own time.

‘If you plan to assist,’ he said curtly, ‘now’s the time to start. I don’t like my surgeries being disrupted and I’d prefer to start the way I mean to go on.’

A tense silence fell around them as James stepped back and Anna smoothly took his place. The familiar ache in Luke’s leg kicked up a notch but that only served to increase his focus. He turned his head to the scrub nurse hovering over the trolley beside him.

‘Sternal saw, thanks.’

The nurse jumped at his tone and handed him the requested item with commendable speed. Then the whine of the saw cut into the silence he could still feel around him. Luke concentrated on splitting the bone beneath his hands. For a short time at least, he had no need—or inclination—to look at the woman now opposite him.

So this was Luke Davenport.

The war hero she’d been hearing so much about in the last few days. Too much. As if it hadn’t been bad enough to have her position as head of department cut short, no one hesitated in rubbing salt in the wound by telling her how marvellous Luke was. What a great surgeon. And soldier. How he’d single-handedly saved everybody he had been with when they had come under attack, dragging them from a burning vehicle despite his own badly broken leg and then providing emergency care that had kept them alive until help arrived.

She could believe it. One glance from a pair of the most piercing blue eyes Anna had ever seen and she knew she was meeting someone just as ambitious and determined as she was herself. Two horizontal frown lines at the top of his nose, between dark eyebrows, added to the intensity of the glance and made her catch her breath. To have him treating her like a junior fresh out of medical school might be unacceptable but it wasn’t totally surprising. This man had seen and dealt with things she couldn’t begin to imagine experiencing.

‘An honourable discharge from the army,’ someone had said. ‘He’s up for a medal.’

St Piran’s was so lucky he had come back. The hospital, the patients, the whole damn community was feeling lucky. Anna had had to hide disappointment strong enough to morph very easily into burning resentment. Had to try and smile and pretend she felt lucky that she was being given the opportunity to be the hero’s assistant from now on.

No wonder the guy was so full of himself he hadn’t even bothered to come and introduce himself yesterday. She’d given him the courtesy of sending an apology for being late for this theatre case and look at his response! He didn’t like his surgeries being disrupted. The voice had been deep and the words clipped. This was a man who was not only used to giving orders, he expected them to be obeyed.

Anna’s spirits—already well dampened by the unsuccessful struggle to save a life in Emergency—slipped a little further. The only way through this, as she’d discovered with any previous difficult episode in life, was to focus on her work to the exclusion of anything else.

It wasn’t hard. ‘Good grief,’ she couldn’t help but comment when the rib spreaders were locked into position and the target of this surgery was exposed. ‘Look at that.’

The sac of membrane enclosing the heart had calcified and become a thick, white casing—a kind of scar from the inflammation a virus had caused and so solid it was preventing the heart from beating effectively. Luke was about to perform a pericardectomy and peel this hard layer away from the heart tissue. A tricky, fiddly procedure that Anna had studied but never performed herself.

She would have been happy enough to do the surgery if a better option hadn’t been available, but she would definitely have preferred to have the patient on bypass and a still heart to work with. Luke was sparing this man the additional risk of being on a heart-lung machine. He was going to do the procedure with the heart moving beneath his scalpel.

‘Your investigations showed the extent of the calcification.’ Luke sounded mildly surprised by her exclamation of astonishment. ‘Right-sided filling was poor and the stroke volume was abysmal. It’s a wonder he’s been able to function at all.’

‘The first sign that it was anything serious only came when he collapsed at work three weeks ago.’

Anna watched as Luke used a scalpel to cut through the hard, white tissue, his hand large enough to make the small instrument almost invisible. She could see how much pressure he was needing to apply but how careful and controlled that pressure was. He needed to open the scarred tissue but not penetrate the heart beneath.

His response of a grunt to her statement could have actually been satisfaction at the gleam of healthy, pink tissue revealed, but Anna caught something that seemed more like a reprimand that it had taken that long to diagnose the condition correctly and arrange livesaving treatment.

The criticism was unfair. This patient, Colin Herbert, had avoided even going to his GP for years, putting his shortness of breath down to being unfit and his tiredness to the broken nights of helping to parent two young children. Even initial investigations hadn’t pointed to a cardiac cause for these symptoms in the thirty-seven-year-old. It had taken a CT scan and then cardiac catheterisation to reveal the rare condition, and that had left Anna having to decide whether to attempt an unfamiliar surgery herself or refer Colin to someone more experienced.

The news of Luke Davenport’s return had made it worthwhile delaying the surgery for just a little longer. If Colin could stay in St Piran’s, close to his family and friends, it would probably speed his recovery. It would certainly make this period far less stressful for his wife and children.

Luke had now begun peeling the pericardium away from the heart muscle. The anaesthetist, amongst others, was peering into the wound with fascination.

‘Looks like plastic,’ one of them commented.

Another grunt came from the surgeon and then silence fell in the theatre again. His requests for instruments or responses to updates on monitoring were curt. He barely acknowledged Anna’s assistance. Surgery with this man was never going to be a relaxed affair, then. Not that he shouldn’t be concentrating fiercely on the task at hand, but that had never stopped Anna from involving her colleagues. Testing their knowledge and sharing her own. Discussing problems and allowing contributions to any trouble-shooting needed. The way mentors had done with her in the past.

Being Mr Davenport’s assistant might be like treading water as far as her career was concerned. Demoted to second best but only allowed to learn anything new by observation. Anna could feel the frustration creeping in already. She might well have to bite the bullet and start fighting for the chance to prove herself elsewhere. Having to apply for sought-after positions where most of the applicants, as well as those making the final choice, were male. Skilled, powerful, alpha men like the one working opposite her right now. Men who needed a lot of convincing that a woman was capable of being their equal.

But even as Anna felt the tightening knot of a tension she’d been aware of for her entire career in medicine, something else was pushing into her awareness. The skill Luke was demonstrating here told her that, merely through observation, she could learn from him. His timing was exquisite as he allowed the heart to beat and squeeze out blood, then advancing his scalpel to free the casing a little further in each fraction of time when the heart was filling again and, therefore, still enough to be safe.

The equipment and the technician needed to put the patient on bypass were standing by. Peeling the pericardium from the back of the heart would be the most difficult part of this procedure and Luke was keeping the option of using cardiac bypass available.

He would prefer not to, however, and so far things were going smoothly. The staff were more than competent and he had no complaints about Dr Bartlett’s assistance. She was good. Somehow she had instantly tuned in with how he worked, and it was like having an extra pair of his own hands in action. Smaller hands, of course. More nimble ones. It was quite possible that Anna would be better suited to continue this when he got to the tight patches around the back.

The thought was embryonic. Barely registered, in fact, because Luke was so focused on what he was doing. Anna had the edge of the hardened pericardium caught in a pair of forceps, holding it up and helping to peel it away as he cut carefully beneath it.

He was using the scalpel with absolute precision. Tiny cuts as close to the hard casing as possible. There was less than a millimetre of space to work in. Luke was vaguely aware that the atmosphere around him was tense and that he could change it by relaxing a little and talking more, but he had no desire to do that.

He was being watched in this, his first surgery on returning to his role as head of department for cardiac surgery. Being watched and judged. They were wondering if his experience in the army had changed him—as a surgeon or as a person.

Of course it had. He had honed skills and one of them was the ability to focus no matter what kind of distractions were around. What anyone else, including Anna—no, especially Anna—might be thinking of him was irrelevant. What mattered here was a good outcome for his patient. His focus was on that scalpel. Right on its tip, which was the only part of the blade he was using.

The blood seemed to come from nowhere. There’d been small bleeders up to now that Anna had dealt with but this was a sudden gush that drowned his scalpel, washed over the fingertips of his gloves and began to form a pool. The beat of the heart made it appear briefly and then the blood washed over it again, totally obscuring his vision.

Red.

So red.

And warm. He could feel it on his fingers. Sticky life blood, ebbing rapidly from where it was supposed to be.

Someone was dying.

He could hear their screams. He could hear the sound of gunfire, too, and smell something burning. He had to do something. But he couldn’t move.

Anna saw the moment the small artery got nicked by the tip of the scalpel. It needed more than diathermy. Clamping and tying it off shouldn’t present more than a momentary delay. She picked up a clamp, ready to hand it to Luke, already eyeing up the suture material he would need.

But he didn’t request the clamp. The hand that was holding the scalpel was as still as stone. Frozen.

And then the surgeon looked up, straight at her, and Anna’s own heart missed a beat. He was looking at her but he was seeing something very different. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with this room or this patient or the surgery he was in the middle of performing.

He was seeing something … terrifying? Her heart missed only a single beat. With the next one she was moving smoothly. Using the clamp in her hand and then a suture. To those around them, it would look as though Luke had silently requested her control of the nuisance bleeding. Given his virtually silent technique up until now, it wouldn’t have surprised anyone. But Anna had been the only one to see the look in his eyes. Had felt the way he had frozen, and it had quite possibly been the most disturbing moment she had ever encountered in Theatre.

It took only moments to deal with the artery and a nurse used suction to clear the operating field again. Anna heard Luke’s indrawn breath and looked up to see the way he blinked with such deliberation it gave the impression of a switch being flicked off. And then normal service was resumed. The surgery carried on as though nothing awkward had happened.

But something had changed. Maybe it was an acknowledgment of the way Anna had rescued the situation. Or maybe it was the beginning of the kind of bond that could weld a tight team together.

‘If I tilt the heart,’ Luke said quietly a short time later, ‘you’re in a much better position to deal with that patch at the back. Are you happy with what you’ve seen of the technique?’

‘Yes.’ The increase in her own heart rate wasn’t trepidation. It was far more like excitement. The challenge of trying something new. The idea that she might be on a new journey to learn skills that nobody else could teach so well. There was something like relief mixed in there as well because her future here at St Piran’s looked a little less bleak. There was even a letting go of a little of that resentment towards the man who had reclaimed his job. The job she had desperately wanted to keep.

Thank goodness her hand was steady as she took hold of the scalpel. Even better was Luke’s quiet praise as he watched what she was doing.

‘That’s excellent. Keep going. The more of this we can remove, the better the outlook for this patient will be.’

By the time the surgery was complete, the outlook was good and Luke finally stood back from the table and stripped off his gloves, thanking everyone for their contribution to the successful procedure. As he turned to leave, he tugged at his mask, breaking the strings that held it in place, and for the first time Anna saw more than those intensely blue eyes.

She saw a rugged, unsmiling face, with deep furrows from his nose to the corners of a mouth wide enough to balance the size of his nose. He wasn’t what you’d call classically good-looking but it was hard to look away. The raw, unpolished masculinity was compelling. Those frown lines were still there at the top of his nose so maybe they were a permanent feature. When Luke started tugging off his bloodstained gown as he neared the swing doors of the theatre, Anna saw the lean muscles of deeply tanned arms. She could have sworn that those doors opened of their own accord, which was impossible but there was something about the commanding height and the way this man moved that made the notion perfectly feasible.

Luke Davenport was a soldier as much as—or possibly more than—he was a surgeon.

Every female in the room was watching as he made his exit, no doubt equally impressed, but Anna knew she would be the only one who found the image conflicting. Downright confusing, really.

Yes, Luke had lived up to his reputation as a gifted surgeon and he was apparently prepared to let her close enough to absorb valuable new skills but … what the heck had happened back when that bleeding had occurred?

Was Luke even aware of the way he had zoned out like that? He certainly hadn’t acknowledged her contribution to the situation. He’d been injured during his time on the front line. An injury that was serious enough to prevent his return to his army position. Maybe he’d received wounds to more than his leg? A head injury perhaps that had left him with a form of epilepsy? Absence seizures where the sufferer was unaware of their surroundings and could freeze for up to a minute or so would explain it, but if that was the case, there was no way he should be still holding a scalpel.

That explanation didn’t seem plausible, however. A seizure would have someone looking blank and Luke hadn’t looked blank at all. He’d looked … Haunted was the word that sprang to mind. As though he’d been sucked into a flashback that he hadn’t been able to escape from. This seemed far more likely but no less excusable.

What if he’d been close to the pulmonary artery? Or, worse, the aorta? Even a few seconds of delayed response in trying to control the kind of bleeding those vessels were capable of producing could have been disastrous. What really bothered Anna was knowing that she was probably the only person who had noticed the incident, which meant that saying anything might be seen as a form of professional sour grapes. Revenge, even, for the reprimand she’d received because of her late arrival for the case. Everyone knew that she’d missed out on the job as departmental head when she’d first applied. Now they’d be watching to see how she was handling her new role. To make an accusation that could have major repercussions on Luke’s career within the first few hours of them working together was unthinkable.

There was only one person who might accept and understand her concerns. The same person who could provide an explanation that could possibly negate the need to take it any further. If nothing else, Luke deserved the courtesy of direct communication but it was also a conversation that needed to happen in private.

Right now her focus had to remain with their patient as he went into Recovery and was then settled into the intensive care unit for monitoring and post-surgical care. She had surgery she was due to perform with a registrar to remove sternal wires from a patient who’d had heart surgery a long time ago but was continuing to suffer pain that was probably a reaction to the foreign material in her body. The procedure wouldn’t take too long and she’d planned to use her lunch break after that to talk to Luke and suggest a detailed ward round to bring him up to speed with all the cardiac inpatients.

Maybe she’d better use that time for something rather more personal. To make a judgment call on the integrity of the man she had to be able to trust if she was going to work with him at all. For some reason, the prospect of getting that close to Luke Davenport was more intimidating than anything Anna could remember facing.

She needed to think of it as nothing more than a new professional challenge. Backing away or trying to make it easier was not an acceptable option. She’d take it face on. Anna gave a decisive nod as she followed Colin’s bed out of Theatre. She actually found herself almost smiling, having made the decision to confront Luke. If the situation had been reversed she had no doubts at all that Luke would be addressing the issue. He would probably have done so on the spot, with no thought of sparing her the humiliation of an audience.

Maybe this was a subtle opportunity to demonstrate not only her ability to do the job he had reclaimed but that her way of doing it might be better.

The prospect of the private interview with Mr Davenport was no longer simply intimidating.

It was … exhilarating.

CHAPTER TWO

THE need to escape was overwhelming. And impossible.

Having ripped off the theatre scrubs, Luke had gone straight to the showers in the changing room but he couldn’t wash away the aftermath of those few seconds in the middle of Colin Herbert’s surgery. Turning the water to lukewarm hadn’t brought its recent comfort of familiarity. Even the icy cold blast he finished with couldn’t shock it out of his head the way it could chase nightmares away.

His clothes felt wrong, too. His trousers and an open-necked shirt felt too smooth against skin used to the thick fabric of camouflage overalls. At least he didn’t have to knot a tie around his neck, like tying a bow on a pretty parcel. How ridiculous would that seem when he would far rather be fastening the Velcro straps of a Kevlar bulletproof vest over his shoulders. Feeling the weight of the armour plating and the bulkiness of pockets stuffed with whatever he might need at a moment’s notice.

He felt too light as he strode out of the theatre suite without a backward glance. Almost as though he was floating.

Lost.

The corridors were full of people going about their business, but it was all so slow. There was no sense of urgency as beds and wheelchairs were propelled to new destinations or staff moved from one task to another. They had time to stop and chat to each other. He saw people smiling and even heard laughter at one point. Someone said hello to him and Luke managed to smile back, but the facial contortion felt grim.

He didn’t belong here any more. This was a joke that wasn’t the least bit funny. Like the whole of civilian life. It was a game. A pretence. Meaningless.

Going outside was better. A brisk walk around the sprawling, modern structure that was busy St Piran’s hospital. A helicopter was coming in to land, no doubt bringing a trauma patient to the emergency department. Luke’s eyes narrowed as he watched it intently and soaked in the sound of its rotors. If anything was likely to give him a flashback, surely that was?

It wasn’t going to happen. He knew that because he was aware of the potential and he was focused. In control. The way he should have been for every second of that surgery. He kept watching anyway. Testing himself, until the helicopter took off again and disappeared into the distance.

A tempting distance. He could start walking again and just keep going. Stride down the cobbled streets of this picturesque market town until he got to the harbour. Or, better yet, a stretch of beach where he could push himself with the added difficulty of walking in sand. Or hurl himself into the surf with its magic, albeit temporary, ability to numb his body and brain and wash everything away. An effect a thousand times better than a cold shower.

But this was early December. It was freezing and his wetsuit was hanging to dry on his back porch after his early swim that morning. His leg hurt, too, thanks to standing so still for so long in Theatre. And he was here because he had a job to do. A job he had been lucky to be able to come back to. An anchor. Something to build on and the only thing he had, really. Given time, this might start making sense again, giving him the bonus of feeling like he was doing something worthwhile even, though after this morning that goal seemed further away than ever.

At least the patient who had been unfortunate enough to be his first case back here was doing well.

It was nearly an hour later that Luke arrived in the intensive care unit and Colin was awake, though very drowsy. A nurse was by his side and she smiled warmly at the surgeon.

‘I’ve been hearing all about the surgery,’ she said to him. ‘I wish I could have seen it. I hear you did an amazing job.’

Luke made a noncommittal sound without looking away from the monitor screen giving detailed recordings of what was happening inside Colin’s heart thanks to the catheter that had been positioned at the very end of the surgery.

Surgery that could have been a total disaster.

An amazing job? He didn’t think so.

The nurse was still hovering. He heard the intake of her breath. She was about to say something else. Possibly another admiring comment. Luke shifted his gaze to give her what he hoped would be a quelling glance. Sure enough, her mouth snapped shut, a flush of colour stained her cheeks and she turned to fiddle with an IV port on her patient’s arm.

Colin’s eyes flickered open. He saw the surgeon standing beside his bed and smiled weakly.

‘I’m still here,’ he said, his voice slightly raspy. ‘Thanks, Doc.’

Luke returned the smile. ‘You’re doing fine. We’ll keep an eye on you in here for a bit and there’s a few tests we need to run later today, but we’ll get you onto the ward as soon as possible. Do you have anything you want to ask me about?’

Colin’s head moved in a slow shake. ‘I think my wife’s asked everything already. Dr Bartlett seems to know what she’s talking about. I’m still a bit groggy to take it in but I’m alive and that’s what matters.’ He smiled again, his relief obvious.

‘I’ll be back later. I can talk to you and your wife then.’

‘Dr Bartlett said how well things had gone. What a great job you did.’

‘Oh?’ That surprised him. Or did Anna not worry about embellishing the truth when it came to reassuring her post-operative patients?

‘The wife’s just gone to find my mum downstairs and look after the kids so Mum can come in for a visit. Hey, did I say thanks?’

‘You did.’

Luke knew he sounded brusque. He didn’t need the nurse to give a look vaguely reminiscent of the glare he’d seen more than once in Theatre from Anna. Did she know? Had word spread that his new colleague had had to leap in and prevent the error he’d made during surgery becoming a potential catastrophe?

‘Where is Dr Bartlett?’ he asked the nurse as he signed off a new addition to the drug chart and prepared to leave the intensive care unit. ‘I need to have a word with her.’

‘Back in Theatre, I expect.’

Of course she was. He’d seen the case listed on the whiteboard in the theatre suite. A sternal wire removal. In the same theatre Colin had been in. With the same theatre staff, presumably. Would Anna be checking whether anyone else had noticed the incident and could back up her report on the concerns she now had about the abilities of the returning head of department?

She hadn’t said anything at the time. Hadn’t even sent a significant glance in his direction, but that said something in itself, didn’t it? She hadn’t bothered to hide what she thought of him returning to take her job in those early glares. It suggested that she was weighing the implications. Making sure she used the ammunition he had handed her to best effect by choosing the best time and place.

Dammit! How the hell had it happened? He was well used to the nightmares, but to have a flashback like that happen during the day? In the middle of surgery? It was appalling. He wasn’t quite sure of how long he had lost his focus but he had no doubts about what could have happened if there hadn’t been someone as quick as Anna on the other side of that table.

It wouldn’t happen again. He’d lost focus because that had been his first slot back in a civilian theatre. His concentration had been too much on a procedure that couldn’t have been more different to the kind of work in an Iraqi field hospital or, more particularly, as a member of the medical emergency response team on a mission on the front line. It had been slow and fiddly compared to the aggressive, lifesaving measures of treating major trauma under circumstances as tough as they got. It had been a mental ambush, triggered by the unexpected amount of blood he’d seen, or the way it had pooled, maybe.

Whatever. It wouldn’t happen again because he’d be ready for it and wasn’t going to allow a loss of control. Luke was perfectly confident of his ability to do just that.

But would Anna believe it?

A pair of green eyes came to mind. Framed by dark lashes that were unadorned by any mascara. Angry eyes. Accusing and assessing at the same time. What would they be like, softened by trust?

Even more compelling, no doubt, but Luke had to wonder if he would ever witness such a change.

Winning Anna’s trust was not even the priority it probably should be because this underlying tension … this waiting for something potentially unpleasant to happen, was oddly welcome. It made him feel a little more alive than he had ever felt since he’d been shipped home.

He was there, in the hospital canteen. Sitting alone near a window.

Brooding was the word that sprang to Anna’s mind. Hunched over a plate of food he appeared to be toying with rather than eating. The big room was well populated and noisy. Was that why the table with its single occupant seemed to stand out like a beacon? Or was her glance drawn there like a magnet because so many other people were eyeing the newcomer and probably talking about him?

She could understand not wanting to be in there and either listening to or being the object of the kind of speculation and gossip rife in any group of people as large as the St Piran’s staff was, but why on earth hadn’t he done what she almost always did—buy a sandwich and some fruit to take back to the privacy of an office?

Was he hoping for company? There must be so many people there who knew him but there was a hierarchy involved and maybe there weren’t any of his peers around. Anna found herself hoping that by the time she got to the end of this long queue someone would have joined Luke. That way, she wouldn’t need to feel guilty about not doing so.

Not that she didn’t want the chance to talk to him, but this was hardly the place to have the kind of conversation she had in mind, and the idea of making small talk with this man was not appealing. It would be dishonest, in a way, when they both knew what needed to be discussed—the kind of game-playing Anna had never had the slightest inclination to indulge in. Besides, Luke was making himself look so very unapproachable. Self-contained and cool. If he knew and agreed with all the praise going on behind his back, his self-image would have to be more than a little inflated. Maybe his own company was enough?

Like Anna, Luke had changed out of his scrubs and was dressed neatly. Professionally. Anna slid her tray along the metal bars in front of the food cabinets and found herself running her hand down the side of her close-fitting skirt to make sure it wasn’t creased. And then touching her hair to ensure that no tendrils had escaped the sleek knot at the back of her neck. She could do professional, too. Better than anybody, which was no surprise given the amount of practice she’d had.

‘Anna. Hi!’

A new burst of hungry staff members was milling behind her, settling into the queue. The greeting had come from Charlotte Alexander, one of St Piran’s cardiology staff members, who was behind a couple of nurses who’d stopped to stare into a chilled cabinet containing rolls of sushi.

If Anna made personal friendships among her colleagues, which she didn’t, Charlotte would have been at the top of her list. While their relationship was friendly, it was still as professional as Anna could keep it. Even now, when the loose top Charlotte was wearing reminded her that she’d noticed the obvious increase in weight a week or two ago and it had occurred to her that Charlotte could well be pregnant, she wasn’t about to ask such a personal question.

Girl stuff, like heart-to-hearts or sharing secrets and especially wedding or baby talk, was never going to happen. They were in the same category as frilly clothes or loose hair or make-up. Badges of femininity. Barriers to acceptance as an equal in a male-dominated profession. How did women like Charlotte manage it? Looking and dressing in a way that accentuated their best features but still having the respect of both colleagues and patients?

It made Anna feel like she had some kind of split personality, but it was so engrained now it was getting hard to know whether it was the Anna at home or the Dr Anna Bartlett at work that was the real her. The only thing she could be sure of was that never the twain could meet.

But sometimes … like right now … it struck Anna that her work persona was simply armour. Concealing anything feminine and vulnerable. Giving her focus and strength. Her gaze strayed of its own accord back to the solitary figure of Luke Davenport. What was it about him that made her even more aware that she didn’t look as feminine or, God help her, attractive as she could? Just as well her work persona was so firmly engrained. If armour was what it was, she might need its protection more than ever.

Charlotte had been held up too long. She moved around the nurses who couldn’t decide between the teriyaki chicken or smoked salmon.

‘Hi.’ She smiled at Anna. ‘How’s it going?’

‘Very good. Theatre’s over for today and both patients are doing well. I just took the sternal wires out of your Violet Perry. I’m sure the irritation will be gone and she’ll be pain-free in no time.’

‘That’s great.’ Charlotte was peering into the sandwich cabinet. ‘Hmm. Chicken and Camembert sounds nice. Or turkey and cranberry. No … we’ll be sick of that soon. Have you seen how many Christmas decorations are up already?’

‘Mmm. Way too soon, in my opinion.’ Anna found the seasonal celebrations at work disquieting. Too much of a bridge to personal lives.

‘Ham salad,’ Charlotte decided, reaching for one of the triangular plastic boxes. ‘Oh … weren’t you in Theatre with Davenport this morning? Doing Colin Herbert’s pericardectomy?’

‘Yes.’ Again, Anna’s gaze strayed towards Luke.

‘How did it go?’

For a split second Anna considered confiding in Charlotte. Telling her all about how Luke had frozen and she’d had to take over the surgery. If she did, she’d be taking a step she could never undo. Charlotte would tell her husband, James, and the snowball effect might sweep them all into places they would rather not go. This man was going to be her professional partner from now on. They would be working closely together. Closer than she was with Charlotte or James or any of the other cardiology or cardiac surgery staff. She and Luke would share duties in Theatre, on ward rounds, during outpatient clinics.

As though he sensed her stare, Luke raised his head to look up. Straight at Anna. Just for a heartbeat she held his gaze and tried to analyse what she could feel in that connection.

Maybe he wasn’t bad tempered and brooding, she decided as she looked swiftly away. Strangely, for that moment in time, it had looked more like something deeper. Possibly even unhappiness? What reason could he have?

He had been forced to leave the army early due to his injury, hadn’t he? Perhaps Luke didn’t want to be here just as much as Anna didn’t want him to be.

She looked away but not before she felt an odd squeeze beneath her ribs. She knew what it was like to feel unhappy.

Lonely.

Did she really have to kick someone who might already be down? Maybe she was overreacting. She had stepped in so fast, after all. If he’d been about to move at the same time it wouldn’t have been such a big deal at all. Not that she’d had the impression he would have moved that fast, but it wouldn’t hurt to think about things a little longer.

‘It was amazing,’ she heard herself telling Charlotte, absently picking up a pack of chicken sandwiches. ‘I’ve never seen a technique quite that precise. I got to do a patch behind the left ventricle and it wasn’t easy.’

‘Wish I could have seen it,’ Charlotte sighed. ‘Did you know he’d ordered the observation deck closed?’

Her disappointment was clear. It was an opportunity to express caution about the man’s personality or even say something negative. Curiously, Anna felt the need to defend Luke.

‘I guess you wouldn’t want too many people watching when you’re doing your first case after a long time away.’

‘I guess. How’s Colin doing now?’

‘Really good. We might be able to move him to the ward later today. Tomorrow, anyway, if he stays this stable. We should be well past the danger period for complications from acute dilation of cardiac chambers but his heart’s still got to get used to dealing with much more of a blood flow.’

‘I’ll get up to see him this afternoon. Here’s hoping the surgery report won’t be far away. I’ll be very interested to read it.’

So would Anna, but her agreement was silent. If she’d voiced it, her tone might have suggested that there would be more to read about than Charlotte might expect. They were getting near the cashiers’ part of the counter now and she turned her attention to the baskets of fruit. An apple, she decided. The nice-looking green one on the top of the second basket.

The crash that came from somewhere in the kitchens behind the food counters was astonishingly loud. Metallic. Jarring enough for every head in the cafeteria to swivel sharply in that direction and for conversation to cease abruptly.

And in that second or two of startled silence a scream rang out. And then a cry for help.

Jaws dropped as staff members looked at each other as though trying to confirm the reality of what was happening. Anna heard Charlotte’s gasp behind her but she was watching something else. Weirdly, her instinct had been to look away from the source of the sound so she had seen the first movement in the crowd. A reaction time so fast it was hard to process.

Luke Davenport was on his feet. His chair tipped backwards and he pushed at the table in front of him rather than stepping around it. The table also tipped, the tray sliding off to send china and cutlery crashing to the floor but Luke didn’t even spare it a glance. He was heading straight for the kitchen.

Access was blocked by the tall, glass-fronted cabinets apart from the space where Anna was, beside the tills and the fruit baskets. There was a flap in the counter beside the last till where kitchen staff could go in and out with the trolleys of used dishes but Luke didn’t bother to stop and lift it. Or maybe he didn’t see it. He swept the baskets clear to send apples and oranges bouncing around the feet of those still standing motionless and then he vaulted the space, making the action seem effortless.

Kitchen staff were backing away hurriedly, but not quickly enough for Luke.

‘Move!’ he barked. ‘Clear the way. What’s happened?’

‘Over here,’ someone shouted. ‘Oh, my God … I think he’s dead.’

Luke took several steps forward. Between the tills, Anna could see the blue uniforms of kitchen staff moving. Clearing a space near the stoves in front of which a large man in a white jacket lay very still.

Luke took in the scene. He turned his head with a single, rapid motion.

‘Anna!’ he shouted. ‘Get in here. I need you.’

Someone had raised the flap now but, if they hadn’t, it occurred to Anna that she might have tried to leap over it, too. Luke needed her?

The man was obviously one of the chefs. His white hat had come off when he’d collapsed and was lying amongst the pots and pans of an overturned rack.

Luke kicked one of them aside as Anna raced into the kitchen. ‘Get rid of those,’ he ordered. ‘Someone help me turn him. Did anyone see what happened?’

‘He just fell,’ a frightened woman offered. ‘One minute he was cleaning down the cooker and then he toppled sideways.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Roger.’

The man had been rolled onto his back now. Luke gripped his shoulder and shook it firmly, hunched down so that he could lean close and shout.

‘Roger? Can you hear me? Open your eyes!’

He barely waited for the response that didn’t come. His hands on Roger’s chin and forehead, he tilted the head back to open his airway.

‘Does anyone know him?’ he demanded. ‘Medical history?’

‘He takes pills,’ someone said. ‘For his blood pressure, I think.’

‘No, it’s his heart,’ another voice added.

The few seconds that Luke had kept his fingertips on the side of Roger’s neck and his cheek close to his face had been enough to let him know that there was no pulse or respiration to be felt or seen. Anna crouched on the other side of the collapsed man as Luke raised his fist and brought it down squarely in the centre of the man’s chest. A precordial thump that was unlikely to be successful but was worth a try.

Ready to start CPR, Anna was thinking fast, compiling a mental list of what they would need. Luke was way ahead of her.

‘Get a crash trolley in here. Find a cardiac arrest button. Send for someone in ED or wherever’s closest. Anna, start compressions.’ He looked up at the silent, horrified onlookers. ‘Move!’

They backed away. Anna heard someone yelling into the canteen for the cardiac arrest button to be pushed. If there wasn’t one in there, it wouldn’t be too far away. She positioned her hands, locked her elbows and started pushing on Roger’s chest. He was a big man and it was hard work to compress the sternum enough to be effective.

Ten … twenty … thirty compressions. At least someone would arrive with a bag-mask unit very soon so she didn’t have to worry about the implications of unprotected mouth-to-mouth respirations on a stranger.

The faint possibility of contracting something like hepatitis didn’t seem to occur to Luke. Or it didn’t bother him.

‘Hold it,’ he ordered Anna, pinching Roger’s nose and tilting his head back as he spoke. Then he sealed the man’s mouth with his own. One slow breath … and then another.

Anna started compressions again, the image of Luke’s lips pressed to someone’s face emblazoned in her mind. The kiss of life … She’d seen it before, though it was a rarity in a medical setting. Was that why it was so disturbing this time? Shocking, in fact. She had to concentrate on her silent counting until it was time to warn Luke.

‘Twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty …’

By the time they had completed another set of compressions and breaths, there were new voices nearby and the rattle of a trolley.

‘Crash team,’ someone announced. ‘We’ll take over now.’

‘I’ve got it, thanks,’ Luke growled. ‘But it’s what we—’

‘We just need the gear,’ the surgeon interrupted. ‘And some assistance.’

Anna could feel the resentment at not being allowed to do what they thought they had been summoned for, but a life pack was lifted from the trolley and put on the floor along with an IV roll, a bag mask and a portable oxygen tank.

She carried on with the chest compressions, pausing only to let Luke rip the chef’s jacket and the singlet underneath open to expose the chest and stick the pads in place. On direction, one of the doctors in the crash team secured his airway and attached oxygen to the bag mask, holding it in place until Anna paused again.

Could she ask to hand over compressions to someone else? This was enough of a physical effort to make her aware of perspiration dampening her shirt. No, she wouldn’t ask. She was with Luke on this.

He had been the one to respond and identify the crisis, which made this man his patient until he chose to hand him over. And he’d asked for Anna’s help. Roger was their patient and they could do this as well, probably better, than the junior doctors assigned to crash-team duties for the day.

‘Stop compressions.’ Luke was watching the screen of the life pack, waiting for a readable trace to appear. ‘V fib,’ he announced moments later. ‘Charging to three hundred joules. Everyone stand clear.’

The junior doctors inched back, exchanging glances.

‘Who is this guy?’ Anna heard one of them ask another.

‘Luke Davenport,’ came the response. ‘You know, the surgeon who’s just got back from Iraq?’

‘Oh …’

In the short space of time it had taken for three stacked shocks to be delivered, the atmosphere in this inner circle around the victim changed. The crash team, who had been busy resenting not being allowed to showcase their skills in managing an arrest, suddenly couldn’t do enough to help their leader.

‘Do you want an intubation kit, Mr Davenport?’

‘Shall I draw up some adrenaline? Atropine?’

‘Here’s a sixteen-gauge cannula. And a flush.’

‘Dr Bartlett? Do you need a break?’

Anna sat back on her heels, nodding. There was plenty of scientific evidence that compressions became less effective after two minutes unless someone else took a turn. She didn’t move far away, however. She watched, totally amazed by the speed at which Luke worked. And she noticed things she hadn’t noticed before.

Like the streaks of grey in his short brown hair. They had to be premature because she knew he was only a few years older than her and couldn’t have hit forty quite yet. He had such neat fingernails too and his hands looked so different without gloves. Far more masculine, which made their speed and cleverness more impressive as he gained intravenous access and secured the line.

His brain was working just as fast. He seemed to be able to think of everything at once and keep tabs on what everybody was doing, but most of all, Anna was caught by the way he’d taken a trolley of equipment and a group of young medics who hadn’t been thrilled not to be allowed to take over and forged them into a team that was now working under difficult conditions as well as they could have in a resuscitation bay in Emergency.

It was a team that had achieved success even before Luke had made a move to secure Roger’s airway with an endotracheal tube. When the static cleared from the next, single shock delivered, the flat line suddenly gave a blip. And then another.

‘Sinus rhythm,’ one of the crash team said triumphantly. ‘Yes.’

‘Have we got a stretcher?’ Luke still hadn’t relaxed. ‘Let’s get this man into the ED. Or CCU.’

Charlotte had edged her way to the back of the kitchen. ‘Great job, Mr Davenport. Would you like to hand over now?’

‘Call me Luke,’ he said, still watching the monitor. The rhythm was picking up steadily and Roger was taking his own breaths now. The chef’s eyes flickered and he groaned loudly.

And, finally, Anna saw the grim lines of Luke’s face soften a little. He leaned down and gripped Roger’s shoulder again with his hand—the way he had when he’d first begun this resuscitation effort. He didn’t shake it this time. This was a reassuring touch.

‘Just relax,’ he told Roger. ‘We’re looking after you. Everything’s all right.’

He looked up at Charlotte and gave a nod to indicate transfer of responsibility. Charlotte moved closer to talk to him, but as she moved, Luke shifted his gaze to Anna.

And something inside her tightened and then melted.

From the moment this incident had started—from when she’d heard the scream and seen Luke’s instantaneous response, she’d been aware of his total command of the situation. Of his faultless performance and ability to absorb additional resources and personnel and then … right at the end … an indication that he really cared about this patient.

An impressive mix. If his glance had been in any way smug, it could have driven Anna into a defensive corner she might never have emerged from, but there was no hint of smugness. No self-satisfaction even. The fraction of time he held her gaze sent a message that was more like, We did it. This time, at least.

The triumph that was there was on the patient’s behalf. Behind that was the acknowledgment of defeat in other cases and the sadness that they couldn’t always win. Shining over both impressions was a kind of promise. A determination to always fight the odds and do the best possible job.

It sucked her right in.

She could work with this man. Could respect him. Like him.

More than that, in fact, judging by the odd ripple of sensation that caressed her spine and sent tingles through the rest of her body.

Dear Lord, she was attracted to him? No wonder she’d been so aware of her own appearance when she’d been standing in line with Charlotte. It explained a lot but it was a reaction that had to be crushed instantly. Allowing something that personal to threaten a professional relationship would be the ultimate play on femininity.

The reason women couldn’t be seen as equals in this arena was largely because of the perception that they allowed emotion to cloud their judgment. Or, worse, they put a priority on relationships and undermined their careers by taking time off to have babies.

Not Anna Bartlett. It wasn’t on any agenda she’d ever had.

Luke’s return and—worse—his attractiveness were roadblocks. Ones she could detour around, which would see her working somewhere else, or deal with if the pull to stay put was strong enough. Either way, getting even remotely close to Luke Davenport would be a mistake.

It was Anna who broke the eye contact.

And turned away.

CHAPTER THREE

THE crisis over, Luke found he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Anna.

Not that he hadn’t spotted her the moment she’d walked into the canteen. He’d taken a good look then because he hadn’t been sure it was her. Something about the height and body shape of the woman had seemed familiar but he’d only seen her eyes before this so it could have been anybody.

Just an attractive female member of staff. A senior member, obviously, because of the way she held herself. The way she moved with the confidence of someone who knew she was very good at what she did. And maybe he recognised something in the way this woman was dressed. Power dressing, really, with that pencil skirt and neat shirt. She probably had a matching jacket that would make the outfit the female equivalent of a man’s suit. And what was that horrible thing she’d done to her hair? It was all scraped back into a round thing that made her look like a cartoon version of a librarian or frumpy secretary. All she needed was some thick-rimmed spectacles to complete the picture.

When her head had turned to scan the room, he hadn’t needed to be close enough to see the colour of her eyes to recognise that this was, indeed, Anna Bartlett. While she wasn’t radiating resentment right now, there was an air of containment about her that suggested she didn’t change her mind easily. A reserve that could well morph into an arctic-type chill when she saw him. A woman that knew her own mind and woe betide anyone that got in her way. Like him.

Luke almost sighed as he dropped his gaze back to a meal he wasn’t particularly interested in. He wasn’t enjoying this lunchtime experience much at all, in fact. He knew that many of the people around had to be talking about him. Gossiping. The happy chatter and laughter going on around him, even the smell of abundant, hot food all seemed irrelevant. Superficial.

The crash and then the scream had been real, though. He’d reacted on autopilot. He wasn’t sure what had made him demand Anna as an assistant. Possibly because she had been the only staff member nearby that he could call by name. Or maybe it was the memory of how well they had worked together in Theatre only a short time ago.

It had been a good choice. The crisis had been dealt with and a life had been saved and it had only been then, when it was virtually done and dusted and he was handing his patient into the care of a new team, that Luke had allowed anything else to enter his head. It was then that he’d had his first close-up look at Dr Bartlett and he’d had the curious impression that he’d been looking at something he wasn’t supposed to be seeing.

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