Sea air so fresh that it bit into his lungs and numbed his face barely penetrated his awareness. He could feel the shifting of sand beneath his feet and hear the sound of the surf crashing in right beside him but his mind had fastened onto that picture of Anna on the floor.
With her hair in a soft tumble of curls. Her arms holding a vulnerable creature. Comforting it. Protecting it. He had felt the love. That was what had hit him in such a poignant place. What had reminded him of the kid brother who had never come home.
He’d reached the end of the beach now. Turned to go home again. He might even manage another couple of hours’ sleep before daylight came. Usually, by the time he had done this punishing circuit, the nightmare had faded.
And it was only then that Luke realised he hadn’t had to fight the remnants of that terrible dream the way he always did. From even before he’d left his house, all he’d been thinking about was Anna.
Or rather the two Annas.
Now that he’d seen her at home, he’d be able to recognise what he’d missed at work so far, surely? Some signs that hidden beneath that power-dressing, uberprofessional, calm, cool and collected surgeon was … the most compelling woman he’d ever met in his life.
He was watching her. And he was puzzled.
Anna could feel the unasked questions hanging in the air between them.
Had it been real? Had he really found her wearing scruffy clothes, with her hair in an untidy mop, living in a shambolic house with a rather large and definitely unhygienic animal? Did she really have a sense of humour?
It was easy to emanate denial because that wasn’t who she was at work. She’d also had years of practice in deflecting any line of communication that threatened to become personal. Patients could be so useful.
Like first thing on Monday morning when the anticipation of seeing Luke for the first time since he’d been in her house was making Anna feel more nervous than she had since her junior years as a doctor when she’d had to perform in front of some eminent consultant.
Luke hadn’t looked any different.
‘Good morning, Anna. How are you?’
‘Very good.’ She wasn’t going to return the query. Luke wasn’t one of her patients.
‘How’s—?’
Crash? She knew that was coming next and she had to stamp on that topic of conversation before it could start. The temptation to talk about her puppy was too strong. She wanted to tell Luke that Crash had learned to sit. That he had stepped on an overturned lid of a paint tin and made a giant pawprint on her wooden floor and it had been such a perfect signature she’d been reluctant to clean it off. Would that make him smile again? She couldn’t afford to find out.
‘Mrs Melton?’ She interrupted smoothly. ‘Finally getting to Theatre, thank goodness. I know it’s your slot this morning but I’m more than happy to do the surgery. Or assist.’
‘It’s a long time since I did a CABG.’ He knew exactly what she’d done in changing the subject. She could see him taking it on board that her private life was not up for discussion. Could see the focus as he let it go. ‘Might be a good idea if you assisted.’
Was this a challenge? To see if she did trust him to operate safely on his own? A sideways glance as Luke fell into step beside her made her notice that his hair was damp. Just out of the shower? That image was disturbing. Anna dragged in a breath, only to catch a whiff of something fresh and clean. Like a sea breeze. Good heavens, she could almost imagine Luke had just been for a dip in the ocean. In the middle of winter? Who would be that crazy?
Her senses were threatening to override her train of thought. What had he asked? Oh, yes … Was he offering her the opportunity to observe and judge his capabilities in Theatre or might he want her company for an entirely different reason?
‘I can’t imagine that you’ll have any problems,’ she said calmly. ‘But I am a little concerned about the quality of her saphenous veins. I’m wondering about harvesting the lesser saphenous or possibly upper extremity veins, in which case I could probably be more helpful than a registrar.’
Your choice, she threw at him silently. I’m available.
He simply nodded. ‘Excellent. Have we got time to review her films? I’d like to have a word with her as well and introduce myself.’
‘Sure. I’m heading to the ward right now.’
Mrs Melton was thrilled to hear that the head of department would be doing her surgery. She beamed at Luke.
And he smiled back. Anna was watching and she could see that it was a purely professional sort of smile. It still softened his face and reminded her of when he’d smiled at her but it wasn’t anything like the same. It didn’t make his face come alive. It didn’t come anywhere near his eyes.
She found herself watching him just as intently as she suspected he was watching her. She saw him smile in greeting colleagues. She saw him smile in satisfaction when he was informed of how well a patient was doing. He even smiled directly at her on one occasion. All mechanical gestures. Done because it was expected and it would be impolite not to.
Anna wanted to know what those shadows in his eyes were from and why they were dense enough to smother real smiles. She wanted to know who the real ‘Crash’ had been and why talking about him had cracked open the armour Luke wore.
For that was what it was. Anna could recognise it because she had her own. By the end of their second week of working together, she had the weirdest sensation that they were like actors. Playing their part on stage but with each of them knowing perfectly well that the role the other was playing was not the real person.
Even more disturbing, Anna was becoming obsessed with wondering about the real Luke. The man that had really smiled at her. Why did he come to work each day with his hair damp and smelling of the sea? The temptation to ask was becoming unbearable. Or maybe it was the desire to touch his hair … to press her face against it and see if that was where the impression of the outdoors and punishing exercise came from.
She wanted to know why he refused to admit that his leg hurt even when it was obvious it did. When there were lines of pain in his face at the end of a long day that she could feel herself. She could smooth those lines away. With her fingers. Or her lips. If he let her.
If she let herself …
The intrigue refused to go away. The pull became stronger but Anna was fighting it. Anyone seeing Mr Davenport and Dr Bartlett together would see nothing more than a purely professional association. Reserved but respectful. Discussions might be animated but they were only about their patients. Their work. Current research. New technologies. Endless topics to talk about.
A seemingly endlessly fascinating man to talk to.
If it wasn’t for the puzzle that Anna represented, Luke might have been tempted to admit defeat.
Every day was the same. Enclosed within the walls of an institution that sometimes felt like it was filled with people who had created their own illnesses. Heavy smokers who seemed surprised that they’d had heart attacks because of their damaged blood vessels. Morbidly obese people who still expected lifesaving surgery.
What for? So they could carry on with their meaningless lives? Lie in bed and keep eating junk food?
‘I’m not going to operate on Walter Robson,’ he informed Anna after a ward round late that week. ‘I refuse to spend my time patching someone up just to give them longer to indulge in slow suicide by their appalling lifestyle choices.’
If he’d hoped to get under her skin with such a terse and controversial statement, he was disappointed.
‘I agree he’s a poor candidate for surgery,’ she said calmly. ‘Maybe that will