Her Celebrity Surgeon

Just like his type had laughed at her before. She lifted her chin. ‘Problem, Radley?’

‘No, Harrison.’

He was definitely laughing at her, and Sophie scowled as she made the first incision.

‘Abby, the blood supply to the tissues of the lower leg is better at the front than at the back, so what I’m going to do is something called a “skew flap”. It’s a long posterior flap of muscle, with equal skin flaps. Harrison’s going to cut about twelve centimetres below the tibial tuberosity, so it preserves the patient’s knee joint and makes rehabilitation easier.’

He was following her lead and referring to her by her surname. Fine. She could cope with that. It felt rude—insulting, almost—but, then again, she’d started it.

‘We’ll have the drains out in the first couple of days and the sutures out in ten days to two weeks,’ Sophie added. ‘But he’ll be on the ward for two or three weeks.’

Then it was the bit she hated: cutting the bone. Even after all her years of experience she still hated the sound of bone being sawn through. But she concentrated on what she was doing, talking Abby through it.

When Charlie took over to deal with the skin flap, she noticed how deft and capable his hands were. Whatever her issues were with him as a person, she respected the way he worked. And she liked the way he treated the scrub nurses—with courtesy, rather than shouting at them or giving curt, dismissive orders.

Maybe, just maybe, she’d got him wrong. Maybe he wasn’t like all the other toffs she’d met at med school.

Or maybe he was. Maybe this was just a smokescreen. All charm, to hide what he was really like underneath. How could she trust him? How could she trust anyone from his class?

Guy had given Abby the time to watch the whole operation. To Sophie’s surprise, Charlie let the young house officer do some of the suturing. ‘Guy says your knots are good. Let’s see how you do with this one.’

Abby was clearly delighted at the chance. Although she worked slowly, her knots were good, and as her confidence grew with Charlie’s praise, the speed of her suturing increased.

‘Well done,’ Charlie said. ‘I think she did well—don’t you, Harrison?’

‘I do, Radley.’

Just as she’d finished changing, Charlie walked over to her. ‘Come and have a coffee while we’re waiting for Tom to wake up.’

‘I’ve got paperwork to do.’

‘Paperwork can wait.’

‘I really don’t need a coffee.’

‘You’ve just spent an hour and a half in Theatre. You need a break. Ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking.’

He was asking? It sounded more like a demand to her.

‘I think,’ he said quietly, ‘we need to talk. My office or the canteen. Your choice. But I could do with a coffee.’

There was nothing to say. Why did he think they needed to talk?

‘Canteen, then,’ she muttered, knowing that she sounded childish. But Charlie Radley rubbed her up the wrong way.

She really didn’t want to be there with him. That much was obvious. And he could tell that she was going to insist on buying her own coffee. Well, he wasn’t in the mood for politics of any sort. When they got to the cash till, he glared at her—and the glare worked. She shut up and let him pay.

They walked in silence to a quiet corner table.

‘Right. Cards-on-table time,’ he said. ‘I know everyone expected Guy to get the director of surgery post. I know you were in line to get Guy’s job. I’m sorry that your plans didn’t work out, but that’s the way of the world. Sometimes new blood can be good for a department.’

She snorted. ‘Right.’

‘And your point is?’

‘You’re a nip-and-tuck man. It’s obvious where the money’s going to go.’

‘I’m a plastic surgeon, yes. But I don’t do nips or tucks. I don’t do cosmetic surgery, except in cases of trauma or where there’s a medical reason for it. And the budget for this year was set before I arrived.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Next year’s money, then.’

‘Next year’s budget,’ Charlie said calmly, ‘will be allocated in terms of need. And I’ll be discussing it with Guy and Andy before I make final decisions. Clear?’

‘Clear.’

‘Good. So what’s the rest of your problem?’

‘What do you mean?’

Nicely parried. She hadn’t denied there was a problem, but she’d shifted the onus on him to say what he thought. OK. He’d play it straight. ‘You don’t like me, Sophie Harrison. Now, I know we’ve never met before, so I can’t have upset you personally. What’s the problem?’

She lifted her chin, and there was a definite spark of challenge in her eyes. ‘OK. You want to know? I think the board appointed you for political reasons.’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, you mean the “lord” bit. Well, if you’d been there when I arrived yesterday, you’d have heard me tell everyone I don’t use it. I answer to Charlie.’

‘If you’d been on time yesterday,’ she pointed out, ‘I wouldn’t have been in Theatre.’

‘Unfortunately, I was delayed.’

‘Your hero rescue work.’

Oh, please. She didn’t think he’d set it up…did she? ‘What would you have done?’ he asked. ‘It’s your first day in a new job—a job where you know most of the staff don’t want you there. A child is stuffing fireworks through a letterbox, but one blows up in his hand. If you stop to help, you’re going to be late and your new team’s going to think you’re too arrogant to care, which means your first day is going to be even worse than you expect. So do you just leave the kid—and whoever’s inside the house, who might also be hurt—or do you call an ambulance and do what you can on the first-aid front? Especially knowing that the general public would pour water or milk on a burn because that’s what all the first-aid stuff says they should do?’

‘Which would be the worst thing they could do to a burn contaminated with phosphorus.’ She sighed. ‘OK. I’d have done what you did.’

‘Thank you.’ Charlie leaned back in his chair. ‘I don’t want to fight with you, Sophie—may I call you Sophie?’

She nodded.

‘As for the “lord” bit—it’s simply an accident of birth.’

Uh-oh. The words were identical to the ones she’d used yesterday morning. Had someone repeated her comment to him?

And why did it make her feel suddenly guilty? She stuck by what she’d said. Why should you be treated differently because you came from a posh background?

‘Don’t hold my background against me,’ Charlie said quietly, almost as if he’d read her mind. ‘It’s not a privilege, it’s a handicap. People think I’ve been promoted because of who I am, not what I can do. I worked hard to get my degree, and I worked hard to get my position. And then I have to work a little bit harder still to prove it to everyone else.’

Pretty much as female surgeons had to—there was still a glass ceiling. To get to the very top as a surgeon, you had to forget about career breaks and children and family. You had to be twice as dedicated as any man.

Prejudice cut two ways. Sophie flushed. And she’d definitely been prejudiced against Charlie. She hadn’t given him a proper chance.

‘I’m a doctor. It’s what I wanted to be—who I am.’

And he meant it. His voice was absolutely sincere.

‘I…I’m sorry.’

‘Apology accepted. Hopefully things will be straight between us now.’

He didn’t sound as if he was gloating. He sounded…relieved.

‘I like the way you work,’ he added. ‘No fuss, no drama, no lording it over junior staff.’

At the word ‘lord’, she met his gaze again. His eyes crinkled at the corners—he was laughing again. But at himself, not at her.

Almost unwillingly, she found herself smiling back. ‘I’m the wrong sex to lord it. Lady it, perhaps?’

The smile in his eyes spread to his mouth, and she wished she hadn’t made him grin like that. Because it made him appeal to her more than any man she’d ever met.

It wasn’t going to happen. Charlie Radley had been photographed with more women than she’d had hot dinners. Women of his kind—the supermodels and debutantes. Sophie knew she wasn’t in the same league; besides, she didn’t want a quick affair. She didn’t want any kind of affair. She just wanted to do her job, and do it well.

‘Given the chance,’ Charlie said, ‘I think I’m going to like you. Working with you, I mean,’ he added.

Given the chance. The rest of the team seemed to like him. And she’d been impressed by the way he worked in Theatre. Cool, calm, very sure of his skill, but equally concerned that his team should know everything that was going on. Including the nurses. ‘So let’s take each other at face value,’ she suggested.

He nodded, and lifted his coffee-cup. ‘Here’s to a working relationship. Straightforward and honest. Mutual respect for each other’s expertise and judgement.’

She could drink to that. She lifted her own coffee-cup. ‘Cheers.’

‘And maybe,’ Charlie said softly, ‘in the end you won’t dislike me so much after all.’

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