Reunited with His Long-Lost Nurse

It galled that a part of him still admired her characteristic spirit. It was one of the things that had attracted him in the first place—her feistiness, her humour, her intelligence.

And that damned killer body.

Liam despaired of himself as another familiar punch of attraction slammed into him, dragging his gaze across the room and tempting him. The very danger he’d anticipated—and, still, he succumbed. His eyes took in every inch of her—the way he hadn’t had a chance to do earlier when he’d been so close to her. When he hadn’t been able to resist that magnetic pull between them.

Her eyes were still like the deepest, richest pools of warm chocolate, those dimples still dancing in her cheeks when she talked, the line of her neck as elegant as he remembered. Her hair was tied up in that professional bun she always wore, but he suspected that if he went over and pulled it free, it would be the same glossy black curls that tumbled, wild and magnificent, just past her shoulders. Fierce and charismatic, just like Talia herself.

And then his gaze dropped lower to those generous breasts, which had always spilled so gloriously over his hands; the sweet nip of her waist and then the delectable flare of her hips. He could swear he remembered every indentation and every curve, and his mouth practically watered.

‘For someone who has just assured me that we won’t be seeing anything of each other at all while I’m at The Island Clinic, I have to say I’m surprised that you followed me.’

She bristled, and he considered it was amazing how he could inject such a note of insouciance into his tone when his chest now felt as though it was so tight that he was struggling to breathe evenly.

Still, she lifted her head.

‘I feel I ought to apologise.’

‘Is that so?’

Was it so wrong of him to relish the way she blinked then, as if she couldn’t quite work him out? Good, let her realise he wasn’t the same easy mark he’d been last time they’d met.

‘I...shouldn’t have fibbed to you about being the one to recommend you to Nate.’

Liam couldn’t drag his eyes away. Especially when she seemed to stiffen slightly as his gaze moved over her, then shifted. A slight movement that made him think, with altogether too much clarity, of the way she’d used to move in his arms. When he’d touched her with his hands and then the way she’d arched when he’d replaced them with his mouth. If he listened closely, Liam was positive he could hear echoes of the way she’d screamed his name as he’d pitched her over the edge and into the brilliant flames.

And he abhorred himself for such weakness. He needed to get a grip. Now.

‘So why did you?’ he demanded. ‘Recommend me, that is?’

She wrinkled her nose, as if she was finding the conversation even harder than he was. He didn’t care to identify why he found that so gratifying.

‘What do you want me to say, Liam? You already know that Nate needed someone who was not only experienced in total atrial arch reconstruction, and in the right anterior mini-thoracotomy, but who would also be an acceptable replacement for Isak to carry on the trial.’

‘And you thought of me over anyone else.’

Another nose-wrinkle. He used to know it to mean she was holding something back. Now he wasn’t so sure he knew what anything she did really meant.

‘I did, Liam, because the trial that Isak was doing is ground-breaking. In precisely the area in which you excel.’

He did not feel flattered. He would not feel flattered. He did not feel that unwelcome fist, which pulled tight and rough around his chest. For a man who was renowned for always being self-possessed and confident, no matter what the circumstances, right now he felt about as far from composed as it was possible to be.

Yet as Talia talked he felt some of the heat, the shock of earlier begin to dissipate. He could cope with this professional conversation far more easily than he could handle the personal one. And it was surprising how easily they were falling back into easy conversation now the topic was...safer.

‘There have been plenty of studies out there comparing different approaches, including MS, PUH and RAT,’ he pointed out. ‘They’ve looked at everything from intubation times to transfusions, surgical revision for bleeding to wound infection, length of ICU stay before in-hospital death, and still the list goes on and on. What makes this one so different?’

She didn’t even hesitate.

‘Those other studies have compared the three approaches when the right-anterior thoracotamy was a relatively new approach, so surgeons were still on a steep learning curve. It stands to reason that it’s taken time to hone the technique, but now experienced surgeons, like you and Isak, have significantly reduced timings such as cross-clamp times, and cardiopulmonary bypass times, resulting in the patient being on the table for up to half an hour less. On top of that...’

‘Fine.’ He raised his hand to stop her. ‘You’ve made your point.’

She’d always been a great scrub nurse, passionate and knowledgeable, as she’d just proved. Yet she’d claimed not to be on the previous surgeon’s team. He couldn’t help but wonder why.

‘I didn’t realise I was making a point, merely answering your question,’ she levelled at him. ‘Hopefully I’ve now proved to you that I recommended you to Nate for entirely appropriate reasons and not to...to lure you St Victoria.’

‘I didn’t say you had.’

‘You implied it.’ She shrugged.