She strode away.
Alex watched her long slim legs eating up the yards down the corridor, saw her head move as she acknowledged colleagues and her hand lift to give a slight wave to others.
It was her. He would swear it was. The hair was different—but women were always changing their hair. He knew it was her from the way she moved. He’d watched her stride away from him once before.
And from her voice—low register, somewhat husky…
But he would also swear there’d been no Annie Talbot on the list he’d kept for the last five years. The most likely name, he’d eventually decided, after three days of detective work and straight-out gossip at the congress, had been Rowena Drake, wife of an Australian cardiologist called Dennis Drake. The fact that she was married should have stopped him thinking about her right then and there but, like the prince with the glass slipper, he’d wanted to know for certain who his mystery woman was.
Since coming to Australia six months ago, Alex had tried to find Dennis Drake, but though records of his training existed it appeared he was no longer practicing in Australia. Probably still working in the US, where he’d been five years ago, Alex had decided, and he’d put the matter to rest once again.
Now here she was!
Alex shook his head. He didn’t know that. And she’d said they hadn’t met. The odds of Annie Talbot being Rowena Drake—being his mystery woman—were a million to one, probably even higher than that, given the population of the country and the percentage of women in the figure.
Yet he’d felt that connection, and he would swear she’d felt it, too.
‘Are you listening to me?’
Phil’s question made Alex realise how deeply he’d lost himself in his memories of the past.
‘Not really,’ he told Phil, certain all he’d been delivering had been gossip about their colleague. Although learning more about her might help him…
‘I was saying Maggie phoned just after you left the house. She wanted to know when you hoped to start operating. A colleague has asked her to stand in with him in a liver transplant later tomorrow, but she doesn’t want to say yes until she’s spoken to you.’
‘We won’t be starting tomorrow,’ Alex replied, feeling better now he could focus back on work. ‘I kept the week clear for checking equipment, staff training, talking to local cardiologists, reviewing files of possible patients and generally settling in. I’ll be seeing Maggie at the meeting, we can talk about it then.’
He’d be seeing Annie Talbot at the meeting, too. Seeing a lot of her, in fact. But if it was her, and she’d lied about meeting him before, what kind of base was that for a working relationship?
‘Who are you waiting for?’ Phil had broken the silence again.
‘Waiting for?’
‘We’re standing here in the staff entranceway, which, in case you haven’t noticed, is becoming increasingly congested. You were standing here when I arrived. I assumed you were waiting for someone.’
‘Oh! No! Well, I might have been waiting for you. Actually, I came in, then wondered about exits and entrances—not knowing the hospital—and went back outside to look around. I’d just come back in and was looking at the fire evacuation plan on the wall when you walked in.’
‘You were checking out the fire exit plan?’
Phil’s disbelief was evident and Alex wasn’t surprised but, having seen the plan on the wall, it had seemed like a good excuse. He could hardly admit he’d seen Phil come through the gates with the woman, and something about her—the way she’d moved—the way her hair had swung to her shoulders, though it was dark, not fair as moonlight—had caused a hitch in his breathing and held him rooted to the spot.
‘Let’s go,’ he said, refusing to be drawn any further into a totally pointless conversation. ‘There’s a small lecture room included in the space the hospital has allotted us. It’s not ideal for staff meetings as I’d rather we were all on one level, but with space at a premium in all hospitals we were lucky to get it. Nine o’clock, we’re on show. That’s if your pretty woman has organised things for us.’
‘She is pretty, isn’t she? And she struck me as an efficient type—power suit and all. Though she told me she was head of the PICU before she took this job. Did you know that? Do you know of many hands-on nurses who’ve gone into admin positions?’
Alex felt his forehead tightening and realised he was frowning, though he tried hard to control this facial expression, knowing it made him look especially grim and therefore intimidating to the families of his patients.
‘No, I didn’t know, but I don’t think it matters as long as she’s efficient at her job. I did ask to be involved in choosing the manager—after all, she’ll be acting as my personal assistant as well—but I was told in no uncertain terms they already had someone for the job.’
‘You didn’t do too badly, getting to bring your own fellow, anaesthetist, perfusionist and head theatre nurse.’
‘It was a condition of my employment,’ Alex said briefly, his mind, now they’d reached the fourth floor where the unit would be situated, on what lay ahead. He may have brought key figures with him, people who’d worked with him during his time in Melbourne, but for the unit to succeed it had to be a team effort. An image of Annie Talbot flashed through his mind. She would be both the handson team leader and his liaison with the powers that be within the hospital. The second element was as important as the first—in fact, it could be the key to success.
So he had to get over his reaction to her. Even if she was the woman on the terrace, she didn’t want to remember it. Didn’t want him to remember it.
Well, he’d tried darned hard not to, yet for five years his subconscious had measured all women against her.
Against a ghost.
A wraith.
A woman he didn’t know!
Annie slumped down at her desk and buried her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening.
It was!
OK, so did it matter?
She took a deep breath and thought about that one.
In some ways yes, because it had physically hurt her to deny they’d met before, when it had been that night—that small experience of dancing with that man and kissing him—which had freed her from her living hell.
Kissing Alex Attwood, although she’d had no idea at the time who he was, had shattered the chain that had bound her to Dennis. Kissing Alex Attwood had made her turn away from the hotel room where her husband had slept, knocked out by a drug he’d been given for seafood poisoning, and keep walking until she’d reached the nearest town, where she’d gone into the police station and asked the sleepy man on duty if she could phone Australia.
Heavens! She should be down on her knees kissing Alex’s feet, not denying she’d ever met him, but the denial had been instinctive, and now, she knew, on so many levels, it had been the right thing to do.
And, given that cardiologists and cardiac surgeons, even in a place the size of the US, moved in the same small world, it was also the only safe thing to do.
Having sorted that out, she raised her head and looked at the clock. Five minutes to the staff meeting and she hadn’t checked the room. Hadn’t done anything but panic since she’d seen him.
Again she felt the jolt of recognition that had shaken her body when she’d looked at the man. Could one body know another so instinctively?
After so short a time?
After