The gap left by the unpresented case would probably be old news by the time everybody headed back to their normal routines. They would all move on with ease.
The way Layla and Alex needed to if they were both going to keep their jobs and work together.
Maybe what was stopping them was that it was unfinished business.
And if there was something that bothered Layla more than being the subject of gossip it was having unfinished business hanging over her.
Mulling it over as she headed back to her office, Layla realised that dealing with this particular business would be dangerous. The tingle that kissed her skin as if she could still feel Alex’s presence in this private room was enough of a warning. The way the memory of that kiss was lingering rang an even louder alarm.
But facing something dangerous … and winning … was kind of an attractive challenge.
And Dr Layla Woods had always found a challenge irresistible.
Besides, it could be good for both of them. She had a responsibility to try and ensure that the senior staff members could work together on good terms, didn’t she?
Of course she did.
Layla took a moment to enjoy the view from her window. Plan B was beginning to shape up rather nicely.
CHAPTER TWO
EVERYBODY WAS WAITING.
Expecting Alex Rodriguez to be taken to task by the chief of paediatrics for failing to put in an appearance or even the courtesy of an apology for the monthly report meeting.
Alex had caught more than one oddly expectant glance from people over the course of the afternoon following that meeting. When his path crossed again with that of Layla for the first time he was in the cafeteria for lunch the next day, and the air of anticipation around him was palpable. A public arena and an attentive audience to witness a senior staff member being told off was gold for feeding a grapevine.
Alex gritted his teeth and waited for the kind of acerbic comment that would let him know by how far he’d missed the mark in his professional responsibilities.
Instead, he was treated, along with everybody else snatching a quick meal, to one of those thousand-watt smiles that Layla was so good at.
‘Good to see you’re finding time to eat,’ she said, with that husky Southern edge to her voice that always made her sound vaguely amused about something. ‘I hear you’re busier than a one-armed paper-hanger over there in Neurology.’
He waited for the kicker. The jibe about being so busy that he couldn’t have found the good manners to let her know he couldn’t make the meeting. But that smile didn’t dim. With a flick of those tousled, shoulder-length blonde waves, Layla continued moving towards the food counter, leaving nothing but a faint scent of something deliciously fresh in her wake. Apples?
Realising that he was sitting there with his mouth half-open, trying to identify what flavour shampoo Layla used, was enough to make Alex aware of the unpleasant burn of embarrassment, but he needn’t have worried. Everyone around him was still watching Layla. Especially the men. And the collective gaze was laced with admiration.
Definitely apples, he decided the next day when Layla brushed past him in the recovery room to visit with a small patient of hers who’d just undergone open heart surgery.
He knew it was a coincidence that had placed her patient right next to the little girl he’d just operated on to correct a spinal abnormality but did she have to stand on his side of the bed? Did she really have to be here at all?
‘I’ve been so worried about this wee man,’ he heard her say to the nurse. ‘I just had to come and have a peek.’
‘He’s doing just fine,’ the nurse reassured her. ‘We’ll be transferring him to PICU any time now.’
Recovery was an extension of the operating theatre suite. Alex’s turf. As Chief of Paediatrics, Layla often got involved with the more serious cases that came into Angel’s and he’d often seen her in places like the paediatric intensive care unit. Even when she was sticking to her own specialty of paediatric cardiology, she would often have small patients who spent time in there when their condition deteriorated or after they’d had surgery. But he’d never come across her in the actual recovery area and it felt like more than a professional coincidence.
Was he getting paranoid or was Layla trying to get in his face at every possible opportunity and … and enjoying it?
‘Don’t tell me …’ Alex didn’t try and erase the sardonic lilt to his words as the nurse sped off to attend to another patient arriving from Theatre. ‘You’re regretting your choice not to become a surgeon.’
‘Not at all.’ Layla’s glance flicked the whole length of his body and Alex instantly felt at a disadvantage.
Underdressed, standing here in his loose-fitting scrubs. He still had a theatre cap on his head and he’d only broken the top strings on his mask so it was hanging around his neck like a bib. Layla was wearing a smart, close-fitting pencil skirt and a crisply ironed blouse under her spotless white coat. And she had her trademark high heels on. Alex was wearing white, plastic gumboots.
‘I adore cardiology,’ Layla continued. ‘I get to make the diagnosis and I get to enjoy the follow-up and see the way lives improve after surgery. I don’t have to do the messy, in-between bit of adjusting the internal plumbing.’ Her gaze seemed to intensify. ‘My surgical rotation back when I was an intern showed me that it wasn’t where I wanted to be.’
That rotation had been when they’d met. When Layla had become little Jamie’s champion and she’d persuaded him to take on the toddler’s complex surgery.
When they’d been together as far, far more than professional colleagues. Was that what Layla was really referring to here? Maybe he didn’t want to find out. He backed down.
‘I’ve just never seen you hanging around Recovery before,’ he muttered. ‘That’s all.’
She knew, dammit. She knew exactly how uncomfortable he was with her presence in what had previously been a sacrosanct area for him.
We’re colleagues. Her raised eyebrows managed to convey even more to the message. We work in the same hospital. We are mature, professional people who are passionate about our careers. Deal with it.
Fine. Alex would deal with it. He tilted his head towards the tiny patient in the bed.
‘What was the procedure?’
‘Just an ASD closure. But it was a big one and little Josh here is a real cutie. One of triplets.’
Triplets? Good grief … Why was nothing about Layla … ordinary?
Even this unusual visit was vaguely disturbing.
Any other doctor would be looking at the monitors or reading the recovery notes. Or at least quizzing the nurse. But not Layla. She was leaning over the tiny, unconscious boy. Finding a patch of skin that wasn’t covered by an electrode for monitoring or tape that was holding an intravenous line in place. Stroking that skin with such a gentle touch that Alex couldn’t look away.
‘Hear what that nurse told me, honey?’ he heard her murmur. ‘You’re doing just fine. You keep it up now. Your momma and daddy aren’t far away and they can’t wait to see you.’
Alex forced his attention back to the monitors attached to his own patient but he couldn’t ignore the knot in his gut. It tightened when he glanced back in time to see Layla on the point of leaving. She had two fingertips against her pursed lips and, having turned her head to check that the nurse wasn’t watching, she took that tiny kiss and transferred it to the forehead of the unconscious toddler.
A tiny moment in time. A very personal moment. If Layla hadn’t turned