âTHOSE boys are the pits!â
Half laughing, half furious, Clare pushed the door of Sisterâs office shut behind her and sagged into the chair.
âThat bad?â
Her head jerked up, her eyes instantly caught and trapped by a gaze so vivid she thought she must be dreaming. He was fair, his sun-streaked hair falling in defiant strands across the bronze skin of his high forehead, and he radiated health and energy. He was also drop-dead good-looking, and Clare was instantly wary.
âIâm sorryâI didnât realise there was anyone in hereânot that I usually talk to myself, but this morning â¦!â
âLosing your grip already?â His voice was like rich silk sliding over pebbles. The stranger glanced at his watch and raised an eyebrow. âItâs only ten past nine!â
âYes, well, if youâd met Danny Drew and his gang of fellow-sufferers, youâd understand!â
âI shall look forward to the experience.â He took a long, lazy stride forward and held out his hand across the desk. âWe havenât met. Michael Barrington. Iâm Tim Mayhewâs senior reg., as of about ten minutes ago. And youâre Clare Stevens,â he added, engulfing her hand in his long, lean fingers.
A tingle like an electric shock ran up her arm, and she hastily detached herself from his hand and smoothed her dress over her hips in an unconsciously provocative gesture.
âHow did you know?â she asked, still rattled by the contact, and his hand reached out and flicked the badge on her breast pocket with casual disregard for convention.
âOhâhow silly of me!â She tried to smile, but her lips felt stiff and uncooperative. Those shatteringly blue eyes were inches from her own, and he was clearly laughing at her. She stood up breathlessly and turned away, to put some distance between herself and this young Adonis who had dropped out of the sky into her life. âWe were expecting youâIâm afraid Sister OâBrienâs got the morning offâsheâs on from twelve-thirty. Would you like me to show you the ward?â
He nodded. âJust informallyâI donât want pomp and ceremony and a great trailing entourage!â
She laughed, an easy, rippling sound, and relaxed. âWe donât tend to stand on ceremony at the Audley Memorial. Weâd better get onâweâre not on take today, but weâve got some elective patients in for hip replacement and it was one of those fairly bloody weekends on the roadâweâve got two lads in ITU whoâll be coming up shortly if theyâre sufficiently stable.â
âI get your drift,â he said with a smile, and her heart crashed against her ribs. âAllow meâââ
He reached round her and opened the door, and as he did so she became aware of his height, and breadth, and the smooth skin of his jaw slightly roughened by stubble. Mingled with the faint scent of expensive cologne was a deeper, more intrinsic scent, primitive and masculine, that made her breath catch in her throat.
Thanking him in what she hoped was a normal voice, she preceded him through the door and took him round the ward, showing him the utility areas and general geography before taking him round the four six-bedded bays and telling him about the patients who would be under his care.
âDo you want to examine any of them?â she asked as they went into the first bay.
âNo, I donât think thereâs any needâunless thereâs anybody you feel I should look at in particular? Iâm really only here to familiarise myself with the ward. Iâll be joining Mr Mayhew in Theatre later.â
As they walked round the ward, Clare became increasingly conscious of her companion. He smiled and joked and stole the hearts of all the elderly ladies with their hip replacements, and he listened intently as she explained about their treatment of young Tina White, thrown from her horse and suffering from severe bruising of the spinal cord following a fracture dislocation of T4 and T5. She was being nursed on a revolving Stryker bed, and was turned every two hours throughout the day and night.
âSheâs a model patient, arenât you, Tina?â Clare said with a smile.
The girl grinned. âAnyoneâs a model patient compared with that lot!â She waved her hand towards the end bay.
Clare groaned. âThe trouble is, they arenât in enough pain any more!â
Beside her, Michael Barrington frowned. âYou surely wouldnât want them to be in pain?â he said reprovingly.
âOf course not,â she laughed. âJust well and back home again!â
Tina chuckled. âThey arenât so bad, reallyâtakes the edge off lying here day after day. At least I can try and guess what theyâll get up to next!â
âAny sign of improvement?â he asked quietly as they walked away.
âNot really. We were very hopeful at first, but in fact it looks pretty grim for her still. Iâll fill you in in a minute.â