Doctor Knows Best (4 page)

Giles Elliott sipped his tea appreciatively, watching Megan's slim figure in her dark blue Sister's uniform, her trim waist emphasised by the wide belt with its silver buckle, her cloud of unruly dark hair caught up in an attempt at a severe bun. “I like you better with your hair down,” he said suddenly.

Megan blushed, her long dark brown lashes fluttering onto the delicate curve of her cheeks. “I have to make an effort to look efficient,” she replied as coolly as possible, “even if sometimes I'm not.”

“Really? From what I've seen you appear to be extremely efficient. Sister Moore, the night Sister, seems to be excellent too.” Megan raised her expressive brown eyes to his, momentarily pausing in the process of pouring herself a cup of tea. She was amazed—she had been thinking that he disapproved of the way everything was organised.

He laughed, accurately reading her expression. “Just because I might grumble a little doesn't mean to say that I don't like the way things are done here. In fact, I think they are done very well.”

“Grumble a little!” Megan interrupted without stopping to think. “You were absolutely dreadful yesterday. You had everybody shivering in their shoes!” Even as she spoke she could have bitten out her tongue—it wasn't the politest thing to say.

But Giles Elliott didn't seem to mind. On the contrary, he laughed again. “I didn't notice you shivering in your shoes,” he said. His deep voice had a teasing note to it.

“I'm not the shivering-in-the-shoes type,” replied Megan, unable to resist the impulse to smile at him. She finished pouring her tea and made to move to sit behind her desk.

“No, don't sit there, sit here,” he commanded, indicating the chair beside his. “If you sit behind your desk I shall be the one shivering in my shoes; I shall feel as if I'm being interviewed.”

This time Megan laughed out loud disbelievingly. “Now, if there is one thing I am certain you would never do,” she said, “it's that you wouldn't shiver in
your
shoes for anyone.”

He smiled. “You're right,” he acknowledged. “We are two of a kind in that respect.” He patted the chair beside him again. “So come and sit here and we can chat for five minutes, then I'll examine your wrist. I see you have the support bandage on. Good girl.”

Megan perched uneasily on the chair next to him. He crossed one long leg over the other in a completely relaxed fashion, but she felt anything but relaxed. Quite the opposite, in fact. The proximity of his masculine presence was distinctly unnerving. She felt him looking at her and reluctantly she felt the power of his gaze drawing her eyes to his. She raised her large brown eyes to meet his blue ones. The blue of his eyes seemed strangely dark and his intent look was almost hypnotic. Unaccountably Megan's throat felt dry and she swallowed nervously as he ensnared her with his gaze.

“Megan,” he said softly, “tell me something.”

“Yes, what is it?” She heard her voice answering him and it sounded miles away, as if it belonged to somebody else. The unfathomable expression in his eyes was sending unfamiliar feathery ripples along the length of her spine, ending in a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. The teacup was held unheeded in her hind as a feeling of bewilderment engulfed her. Her heart beat rapidly out of control and her pulses raced violently. If I feel like this when he just looks at me, what would I feel like if he kissed me? The thought crossed her mind fleetingly.

He lowered his eyes and took another sip of his tea, breaking the spell he had held over her.

“Do you mind if I call you by your first name?” he asked.

Megan felt vaguely surprised. It was not the question she had been expecting, but then on the other hand she was not really sure what she had been expecting.

“No, of course not,” she tried to answer in a matter of fact tone, making sure that all her wild imaginings of the previous few moments were not reflected in her voice.

“And you must call me Giles,” he said. He finished his tea, eased his long frame out of the chair and stood up. “How about coming out to dinner with me tonight?” he asked. “Unless, of course, you have a regular male friend who would strongly object.”

“No, I don't have any particular boyfriend,” answered Megan quickly, surprised at his invitation, “but I'm afraid I do have another rehearsal for the medical students' Christmas revue.”

“Oh yes, the Christmas revue.” Was it her imagination or did that disapproving look flit across his face again?

“I know you may think it's a bit silly, and it probably is, but it does provide a lot of people with some well-earned laughter,” she heard herself saying defensively.

“I didn't say I thought it was silly,” he replied, raising his eyebrows expressively.

Megan stood and took his teacup from him. “You didn't have to,” she answered. “It was written all over your face.”

“I see,” was all he said, but his voice held a pensive note. Then, as Megan started to open the door for him, he stopped. “One moment—I was going to look at your wrist, wasn't I?”

“Oh…really, there is no need,” faltered Megan, his closeness sending those delicious shivers up and down her spine again. Hastily she put her bandaged wrist behind her. “It's quite all right,” she muttered.

“Doctor knows best,” he said, an amused glimmer in his blue eyes as he reached a long arm around her to grasp her bandaged wrist.

Megan's heart stopped in its tracks, or at least for a moment she thought it had. His dark face was so close to hers and the steely blue of his eyes still had that enigmatic colour, a dark warm colour evoking thoughts of passion. Megan swallowed hard, her throat dry. She felt herself swaying towards him and involuntarily she parted her delicate pink lips, craving to feel the warmth of his firm mouth on hers.

It was with an enormous feeling of anticlimax that she watched him as he took the bandage from her wrist. Fool, she told herself fiercely, just because he asked you out to dinner, and just because his eyes are a fascinating shade of blue, doesn't mean that he is interested in a little nobody like you. Be sensible. A wealthy, handsome man like him must have plenty of women in tow. He's probably married, anyway, and just has nothing to do this evening.

He, for his part, kept his head lowered while he made a careful and thorough examination of her wrist, so she was unable to see his expression.

“Thank you,” she said stiffly when he had finished. “Thank you also for your invitation. I'm sorry I had to decline.”

“Are you?” he answered wryly, opening the door to her office. “Some other time then, perhaps.”

“Yes, that would be nice,” replied Megan non-commitally. She busied herself needlessly with the teacups, anything to avoid catching his disturbing gaze again.

“I'll say goodbye for today,” he said. “I have a consultant's meeting to attend now and you'll be off duty by the time it is finished.” He paused in the doorway. “I hope you enjoy your rehearsal, Megan.”

“I'm sure I shall,” answered Megan, but the words sounded hollow in her ears. She would have much rather gone out to dinner with him instead. “Goodnight,” she added as an afterthought.

“
Giles
,”
he prompted.

Against her will Megan was forced to look up. Even though physically now they were separated, the look from his blue eyes still sent her pulses racing. “Giles,” she repeated slowly, being rewarded by that sudden devastating smile that did dangerous things to her heart.

After he had gone she stared at the cream-painted wood of the door pensively, wondering about him. He seemed such an unpredictable character. Stand-offish one moment, friendly the next, but above all physically attractive in the extreme. Megan knew that she had to be very careful; it would be easy to fall in love with a man like Giles Elliot.

No point in allowing yourself luxurious thoughts like that, she told herself firmly. He's almost certainly married and only asked you out because he has just moved down here from London and left his family up there. The more she thought about him, the more she realised that, apart from knowing he had a beautiful house in Cheyne Walk, she knew absolutely nothing else about his personal life.

Try as she might she simply couldn't concentrate at rehearsal that evening. “Megan,” grumbled Richard, “you are hopeless tonight.”

“I know,” apologised Megan guiltily. “I'm sorry, I'm rather tired and I'm finding it difficult to concentrate.”

She was very pleased, therefore, when the rest of them decided to call a halt earlier than usual, and she declined an offer to go with them to the students' bar. Sometimes she went for Richard's sake, but it always made her feel positively geriatric, all the students were so young.

However, although she had declined Richard's offer, Megan felt restless and not in the least bit like going back to her minute flat in the nurses' block. As she hadn't seen Susan since their meal together she decided to take a chance and call on her. It would be someone to have a gossip with.

Turning up her coat collar against the cold, and digging her mittened hands deep into her pockets, Megan hurried along towards the tower block after she had parked her car. She had completely forgotten that Susan was still unaware that the stranger she had thought to be a locum had turned out to be the new Casualty Consultant at the County General. On arrival at the tower block she made straight for Susan's flat, and to her delight Susan was there and feeling as restless as Megan.

“I know,” said Susan, “don't take your coat off. I'll put mine on and we'll go up to the Woodpecker for a drink. Do us both good to get away from here.”

Megan agreed. Somehow the small rooms of the tower block flats seemed extra claustrophobic that evening. The two girls made their way out of the hospital grounds and up the steep hill towards the hospital local, the Woodpecker. Megan told Susan about Giles Elliott, although she omitted to mention the fact that she thought he was extremely attractive, and she certainly didn't mention that her heart did strange things whenever he came near her!

“What is he like?” Susan demanded to know.

“A real stickler for perfection when it comes to work, I can tell you,” replied Megan. “He put the fear of God into everyone on his first day, but he seems to have eased off a little since then. Now that he has finally realised that we are not all complete imbeciles,” she added.

“I must find some excuse to come down to Casualty,” said Susan. “I'm dying to see this man. Fancy you being treated by your own consultant!” She went into peals of laughter at the thought. “You were his first casualty from the County General, only he didn't know it at the time.”

Megan laughed too. “Yes, I suppose I was,” she said. “I don't suppose he has thought of that.”

Pushing open the door of the pub they entered into its welcoming warmth, a gratifying change from the sharp cold of the frosty night air. The first sight that met their eyes was a couple of senior registrars they both knew well, seated at the bar on the tall stools. One was a Canadian, an anaesthetist called Johnny Cox, and the other was a surgeon named Martin Taylor. They had both been at the hospital for about three years on their senior registrar rotations, and both were the sort of characters who became well known to everyone. Loved by some, disliked by others, but known to everyone!

“Hi girls, what a sight to gladden sore eyes.” Johnny's loud Canadian twang echoed around the half-empty bar. “Here we were, just the two of us, wondering what two handsome fellows like us were going to do on our own and lo and behold, two gorgeous girls like you turn up!”

Megan laughed. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Why aren't you in the Mess—that's your usual haunt, isn't it?”

“It's run out of beer again,” said Martin, heaving a sigh. “Our wretched Mess treasurer keeps forgetting to pay the brewery.”

“Don't tell me the brewery doesn't trust the junior doctors, and won't deliver until they have been paid,” teased Susan.

“Too damned right they won't,” said Johnny ruefully. “But now that you two have turned up, it has made my evening. I don't care if the Mess has no beer, I like it better here.” He put his arm round Megan and gave her a resounding kiss on the side of her cheek. “What can I buy you to drink?”

“Stop it, you idiot,” Megan laughed, pushing him away. She knew him too well to be offended. Then she turned to Susan. “We might as well resign ourselves to the fact that we are not going to have a quiet natter by ourselves.”

“Who cares?” said Susan, climbing up on to the stool beside Martin. “I was feeling like a change this evening anyway. We'll have a red wine each,” she said to Johnny, answering for Megan as well as herself.

The four of them decided to move so that they could talk more easily, and changed over to a table in the corner where they sat munching crisps, drinking and exchanging hospital gossip and jokes.

“I hear the students have roped you into their revue,” said Johnny to Megan. “I can't wait to see it. A little bird has told me we are going to see quite a lot of you!”

Megan blushed. “Johnny, how did you know that?” she demanded. “It's supposed to be a secret.”

Johnny slung his arm loosely around her shoulders. “If there is one thing I like, it is a woman with a beautiful body,” he crooned into her ear.

Megan ignored him. He was the hospital gigolo, a different girl every night, quite harmless as long as no one took him seriously. “Johnny, I've known you too long to be taken in by you,” she said severely.

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “You're a hard woman, Megan,” he replied.

The conversation continued between the four of them in the same bantering vein for the rest of the evening until the landlord called for time. The two men rose and started to usher the girls out. It was as they were on the point of leaving the warmth of the bar for the cold night air outside that Megan was suddenly aware that Giles Elliot was there. He was sitting at the far end of the bar, slightly in the shadow, but from his position he would have had a full view of the four of them at their table.