Weekend Fling with the Surgeon

Right up until they’d boarded the plane, she’d expected him to tell her he’d changed his mind. Why hadn’t he?

Had boredom been his reason for saying yes? Perhaps he felt sorry for his dateless colleague and was making her his charity case for the year? Or maybe he’d once had a wedding to go to during a downtime in his life and could relate to how she felt—dumped, dateless and desperate.

Ha. As if.

The man was the department heartthrob and had probably never had a dating downtime his whole life, much less been dumped and desperate.

“Why are you doing this?”

He glanced up from the phone screen. “Reading an article about two-photon polymerization? Because I’m interested in how this technique is being used to achieve scaffolding in 3D printing of human tissue.”

McKenzie blinked. That’s what he was reading? Not that she was surprised. If ever there had existed a sexy brainiac, Ryder would fit that bill. The looks of a Greek god. A brain that rivaled the nerdiest nerd. She’d always recognized that he was the ultimate package. Only she’d been happy with Paul and hadn’t really ever thought about Ryder as anything more than a colleague who’d gone from friendly to avoidance.

Sitting next to him, she noticed. Just as she’d noticed the women eyeing him while they’d waited to board the plane. They’d all looked at her with envy. Ha. If they only knew.

“Isn’t that what you’re doing in the lab with the laser?” she asked, hoping he’d talk with her to help distract her from their surroundings.

She didn’t know a lot of the intricate details, but exciting things were happening at Trevane Technologies in the field of 3D printing human tissue and Ryder headed the clinical aspect of the research in regard to applying it to congenital cardiac diseases.

“Yes, that’s one part of what we’re doing in the lab,” he admitted, tapping his phone. “The article depicts the research a material science institute is doing and what they’ve achieved using a similar process to bioprinting. Although what we’re doing at Trevane is eons ahead in some aspects, their speeds for laying down tissue far exceed anything we’ve achieved.”

“Faster isn’t always better,” she mused, glancing out the window, then wishing she hadn’t. The last of the luggage had been loaded and they’d soon be preparing for takeoff.

“In this case, faster is better. Keeping the printed cells alive is the biggest challenge facing us on creating usable human tissue. If we can successfully print tissue faster, then hopefully we can achieve thicker layers without deoxygenation. Thicker layers means someday being able to 3D print vessels, valves, heart chambers or maybe even entire hearts.” Passion filled his words. “Can you imagine the implications if we could make a heart for patients needing a transplant rather than having to wait on a donor?”

The thought was mind-boggling, but something that was becoming more and more of a possibility. The research to further develop valve and heart tissue regeneration via bioprinting normally excited her because of what it meant for her patients, for all cardiac patients, and other disease states, too, as the principles carried far greater potential than just with cardiac care.

But, currently, she fought the sensation of panic’s hands gripping her throat and squeezing with all their might.

“I’m familiar with Professor Ovikov’s work,” he continued now that she’d gotten his attention. “We met years ago when 3D printing of live tissue was still in its infancy. Brilliant scientist.”

Something in the way he said the praise allowed McKenzie to force her blurring gaze away from the window and her mind not to register that the crew had closed the plane door and were moving about the cabin, checking the overhead bins one last time.

And then, they’d take off.

Talk to Ryder. Just carry on a conversation as if nothing monumental was about to happen.

As if she wasn’t about to be flung through the air at speeds she was positive humans weren’t meant to travel.

“Dr. Ovikov probably says the same about you,” she managed to get out despite her mouth deciding to imitate the Sahara. Seriously, how could her tongue be sticking to the roof of her mouth when her palms were sweating like crazy?

Statistics alone said she was safer flying than driving, right? Her brother constantly tossed that out at her when she complained about his chosen career path as a pilot.

“Maybe, but I doubt it,” Ryder admitted, staring at her as if he was starting to pick up on the fact that she wasn’t her normal calm, cool, collected self.

Ha. If he only knew how far from the dedicated pediatric cardiologist she felt.

“Our research overlaps and we have similar goals,” he continued, his honey-colored eyes darkening as he studied her.

Just keep talking. Distraction was the best way through this. They’d soon be in the air. Then she’d settle down a little. She didn’t like any part of flying but takeoffs and landings were always the worst. Always.

Ryder probably already regretted agreeing to do this wedding weekend. The last thing she needed was to freak out on him before they were even out of Seattle.

His gaze had narrowed.

Yeah, he was definitely on to her.

She swallowed, fought to keep her tone steady, and forced a smile to her slowly numbing face. “Is that a nice way of saying he’s your competition for upcoming grants?”