His Honourable Surgeon. Kate Hardy

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      He’d only just got his pulse back to normal when he reached the lobby, still slightly damp, nine minutes later. Precisely sixty seconds after that, Vicky joined him.

      ‘I had a call from the hospital CEO yesterday,’ he said as they walked down to the hospital.

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘About Declan Foster. His parents wrote in and said how good you’d been.’

      Vicky shrugged. ‘Just doing my job.’

      ‘And a bit more besides. I’ve noticed your paperwork is meticulous and you always make sure that the patients, as well as their relatives, know exactly what’s going on. And I think teaching a small boy to play chess might not be in your job description.’

      ‘It was as good a way as any to spend a lunch-break,’ Vicky said lightly.

      ‘Several lunch-breaks,’ he corrected. He’d noticed.

      She frowned. ‘Do you have a problem with that?’

      ‘No, as long as you’re not overdoing things. We all need time to recharge our batteries, Victoria.’ At her sharp look, he added, ‘May I call you Victoria? I prefer working on first-name terms.’

      For a moment, he thought she was going to say no.

      Then she nodded. ‘It’s Vicky.’

      ‘Vicky.’ He could actually taste her name. Crisp, slightly astringent. And it made his mouth water.

      Oh, he needed coffee. Before he said something stupid. ‘You’re supposed to take breaks.’

      ‘I’m fine.’

      There was a slight edge to her voice, and he sighed inwardly. ‘I’m making a mess of this. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. When we first met…I didn’t mean to imply you were a slacker. You caught me on the hop, doing a recce. I was embarrassed, and I said the first thing that came into my head.’

      ‘I see.’

      Clearly she wanted him to eat humble pie. OK. As long as it meant she kept talking to him, he’d do it. ‘You’re dedicated. Very dedicated. I’ve never met anyone who works this hard before.’

      ‘It’s the only way to break through the glass ceiling,’ she said as they walked into the canteen.

      The glass ceiling? That was something he hadn’t even considered. ‘This is the twenty-first century. It’s supposed to mean equal opportunities.’

      She raised an eyebrow. ‘How many female heads of department do you know? How many women professors?’

      He thought about it. ‘Not many.’

      ‘Exactly. If they have a family, they’re expected to take a career break, which holds them back because they’ve spent five years raising children and need to brush up their skills again—not to mention the years of experience they’ve lost and the fact their male colleagues are now five years ahead of them. If they don’t take a career break, they get a reputation as hard women who don’t care enough about their families, and it’s held against them.’

      He frowned. ‘Discrimination is illegal.’

      ‘But it happens.’

      He had no answer to that. ‘So I take it you don’t have children?’

      ‘No.’

      He just about managed to stop himself asking the next question. And what does your partner do? Because it was none of his business whether she was involved with someone or not. And he’d already told himself he wasn’t going to act on his attraction to her. He needed to talk about something neutral. Fast. ‘What would you like for breakfast?’ he asked as they reached the canteen.

      ‘Coffee, fruit and yoghurt, please.’

      Polite and distant again. Which was what the professional in him had wanted—but what the man in him hadn’t wanted. ‘Do you mind if I have a bacon sandwich?’

      She gave him a wry look. ‘They’re your arteries.’

      When they sat down, he added tomato ketchup to his sandwich. ‘Lycopene,’ he said with a grin.

      ‘Which doesn’t negate all the cholesterol,’ she shot back.

      ‘Don’t care.’ He bit into the sandwich. ‘Oh, yes. This is seriously good.’ He nodded towards the half-sandwich on his plate. ‘Sure you don’t want to share?’

      Vicky adored bacon sandwiches. Had it been Seb or Charlie opposite her, she wouldn’t even have waited to be asked. But sharing a sandwich was intimate. She barely knew Jake—and it was going to stay that way. She couldn’t afford a relationship. Not when she was so close to getting a consultant’s post. If she let herself get distracted, her career would go straight down the plughole. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let that happen now. ‘Quite sure, thank you.’ She poured yoghurt over her fruit. ‘So what did you want to talk to me about besides Declan?’

      ‘I did the getting-to-know-you bit with the rest of the staff on team nights out.’

      And because she’d been covering the ward, he hadn’t had the chance to have that kind of chat with her. She sighed. ‘I’m sure my personnel file will tell you all you need to know about me.’

      ‘That you’re a senior registrar, that your exam results were superb, that your appraisals have always been excellent, and you’re tipped for the next consultant’s post.’

      If he’d already reviewed her files, what else did he want to know?

      The question must have shown on her face, because he said softly, ‘I don’t know you. I’ve seen how you are with patients and staff, and I’m impressed.’

      Please, don’t let him be trying to come on to her. She knew her willpower was strong, but she didn’t need the extra temptation. Jake Lewis, with his dark eyes and the floppy hair that made him look like a disreputable cherub, could be a temptation. Like rich, dark chocolate. Addictive. ‘You’ve reviewed my files and you’ve seen me work. That’s all you need to know,’ she said primly.

      ‘Wrong. If I’m to develop the staff on my team—so they’re happy in their jobs and work well for me—I need to know what they want out of their job. Where they want to be in five years’ time, and what they think they need to get there. Where they think they’re weak and need more experience or more training. Things that aren’t written in files.’

      Was he serious?

      She risked a glance. He looked serious enough.

      Though he also looked good enough to eat, with his hair still slightly damp from the shower. She thought of rich, dark chocolate again and suppressed a groan. Jake Lewis was dangerous. Someone she needed to avoid.

      ‘So what do you want, Vicky?’ he asked. ‘To be head of department? Professor?’

      ‘Both.’

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