those silly specs she clearly couldn't see through. That blush almost made her pretty. Wide sparkly brown eyes—at the moment somewhat alarmed (wait till he gave her something to be alarmed about!). Finely-boned slightly aquiline nose which added to her elegant aura. Firm chin. Painfully scraped back hair. And a gentle, shapely mouth that had an extraordinary tendency to turn itself into a sprung trap. But pale as a pint of milk and just as shapely.
Strange lady! Tom grinned, an ironic slash of a heart-melting smile.
Kate's lips parted. Her breathing almost stopped. You didn't fall in love on the spur of the moment. You just didn't. This wasn't love. Here was the man she'd witnessed on the point of death. What she was feeling was joy that he was alive and safe and with her own eyes she could see it.
Another of them, sighed Tom to himself. What is it about being a neuro-surgeon that turns a guy into a babe-magnet? Why do they let themselves? Haven't they any pride?
Kate saw it in his eyes. The drawbridge coming down as he distanced himself. She did the same. Assumed a frosty look and bit her lips into a thin hard line. Time to show her patient she meant business. 'We can't have you lying in bed all day,' she snapped. You should be up and in your dressing gown. Haven't you any pyjamas? Oh yes, I see you have.' She grasped a striped sleeve sticking out from the heap of pillows.
'Let's get these on. Where are your bottoms?'
She whisked the sheets back and peered at his legs. 'Good. You're wearing them – that saves us a fight. Now let's get your dressing gown from behind the bathroom door and we'll have you out of bed and in that chair by the window in no time. You'll feel much better. And we can change your sheets and have the bed all nice and tidy.'
He wasn't making the smallest effort to insert his good arm into a sleeve. OK! So much for the nanny approach. Kate snatched the pen out of his hand and put it out of reach. 'Hey!' exclaimed Tom, taken by surprise.
'Lean forward, Mr Galvan.'
He smelled of warm sheets and shaving soap and his body was solid and real beneath her capable hands.
With ill-concealed impatience he tolerated having the jacket smoothed across his back and fastened with a safety pin across that injured arm.
Kate handed him back the pen. So far so good. He hadn't been all that difficult to handle. 'Have you had a proper bath yet? Well, we'll see about that tomorrow. You certainly haven't used a brush and comb today.' She delved into his locker. 'Here you are. Sort yourself out. Unless you'd like me to brush your hair for you, dear.'
That 'dear' really had him rattled. 'Look here, Staff Nurse whoever you are. I am a doctor.' He mouthed the words slowly, as if talking to someone who might not understand the Queen's English. 'I do not need you. I do not need any nurse. I can dose myself with my medicines. I can remove my own stitches. I can even record my own TPR and BP on the effing charts and anything else you care to name. I've told Judy Carter not to waste her precious nurses on me. There's only one thing you can do to please me and that is … get the hell out of here!'
Kate stamped down her feelings. She refused to meet temper with temper. 'Shout at me all you wish, Mr Galvan,' she said smoothly, 'I won't take offence. You need to express your feelings.'
'Oh spare me the amateur psychology!' His lip curled in derision. But he swept the brush through his thick hair. Then tossed it in her direction.
Kate caught it deftly and put it back inside his locker. If he thought she was going to make a bolt for it he'd got another think coming. She put on an earnest expression and being deliberately annoying said, 'You're angry and frustrated, Mr Galvan. Believe me, I truly want to help you.' I truly want to wring your neck and I haven't been in this room half an hour.
Tom Galvan bared his splendid teeth in a snarl that dared Kate to continue. Claiming to understand what he, a neuro-surgeon, was going
Strange lady! Tom grinned, an ironic slash of a heart-melting smile.
Kate's lips parted. Her breathing almost stopped. You didn't fall in love on the spur of the moment. You just didn't. This wasn't love. Here was the man she'd witnessed on the point of death. What she was feeling was joy that he was alive and safe and with her own eyes she could see it.
Another of them, sighed Tom to himself. What is it about being a neuro-surgeon that turns a guy into a babe-magnet? Why do they let themselves? Haven't they any pride?
Kate saw it in his eyes. The drawbridge coming down as he distanced himself. She did the same. Assumed a frosty look and bit her lips into a thin hard line. Time to show her patient she meant business. 'We can't have you lying in bed all day,' she snapped. You should be up and in your dressing gown. Haven't you any pyjamas? Oh yes, I see you have.' She grasped a striped sleeve sticking out from the heap of pillows.
'Let's get these on. Where are your bottoms?'
She whisked the sheets back and peered at his legs. 'Good. You're wearing them – that saves us a fight. Now let's get your dressing gown from behind the bathroom door and we'll have you out of bed and in that chair by the window in no time. You'll feel much better. And we can change your sheets and have the bed all nice and tidy.'
He wasn't making the smallest effort to insert his good arm into a sleeve. OK! So much for the nanny approach. Kate snatched the pen out of his hand and put it out of reach. 'Hey!' exclaimed Tom, taken by surprise.
'Lean forward, Mr Galvan.'
He smelled of warm sheets and shaving soap and his body was solid and real beneath her capable hands.
With ill-concealed impatience he tolerated having the jacket smoothed across his back and fastened with a safety pin across that injured arm.
Kate handed him back the pen. So far so good. He hadn't been all that difficult to handle. 'Have you had a proper bath yet? Well, we'll see about that tomorrow. You certainly haven't used a brush and comb today.' She delved into his locker. 'Here you are. Sort yourself out. Unless you'd like me to brush your hair for you, dear.'
That 'dear' really had him rattled. 'Look here, Staff Nurse whoever you are. I am a doctor.' He mouthed the words slowly, as if talking to someone who might not understand the Queen's English. 'I do not need you. I do not need any nurse. I can dose myself with my medicines. I can remove my own stitches. I can even record my own TPR and BP on the effing charts and anything else you care to name. I've told Judy Carter not to waste her precious nurses on me. There's only one thing you can do to please me and that is … get the hell out of here!'
Kate stamped down her feelings. She refused to meet temper with temper. 'Shout at me all you wish, Mr Galvan,' she said smoothly, 'I won't take offence. You need to express your feelings.'
'Oh spare me the amateur psychology!' His lip curled in derision. But he swept the brush through his thick hair. Then tossed it in her direction.
Kate caught it deftly and put it back inside his locker. If he thought she was going to make a bolt for it he'd got another think coming. She put on an earnest expression and being deliberately annoying said, 'You're angry and frustrated, Mr Galvan. Believe me, I truly want to help you.' I truly want to wring your neck and I haven't been in this room half an hour.
Tom Galvan bared his splendid teeth in a snarl that dared Kate to continue. Claiming to understand what he, a neuro-surgeon, was going
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