The Surgeon's Marriage Demand. Maggie Kingsley

not playing anything,’ he protested. ‘I just don’t think I ought to condemn the guy without concrete facts.’

      It was on the tip of her tongue to say that hadn’t prevented him from bad-mouthing her, but she didn’t. Persuasion, Olivia, she told herself. You’ve always succeeded in the past with even the stroppiest of consultants by using the gentle art of persuasion, so back off. Back off, and regroup.

      She fixed a conciliatory smile to her lips. ‘I think I’ve covered everything I want to discuss this morning. Is there anything you’d like to talk to me about?’

      ‘No.’

      Not an ‘I don’t think so’ or an ‘I can’t think of anything’—just a bald, flat ‘No’. Couldn’t he even pretend to be civil, attempt to meet her halfway? Apparently not, judging by the rigid set of his jaw. Well, irrespective of how he felt, they couldn’t permanently be at loggerheads. They had to find some common ground or they would never be able to work together.

      ‘Listen, Seth,’ she declared, doing her best to radiate sympathy and understanding, which wasn’t easy when what she really felt like doing was hitting him. ‘I know this can’t be easy for you—having me as your boss. You’re bound to feel slightly resentful—’

      ‘I don’t feel even remotely resentful,’ he interrupted. ‘I just don’t think a woman should be in charge of A and E.’

      Her jaw dropped. Was he kidding? He didn’t look as though he was, and her sympathy and understanding disappeared in an instant.

      ‘Now, listen here,’ she exclaimed, her brown eyes stormy. ‘It may have escaped your attention—it clearly has escaped your attention—but women moved out of the kitchen years ago. There are women politicians, women judges, women consultants—’

      ‘I’m quite aware of that,’ he exclaimed, annoyance plain in his voice, ‘and I have no objection to female consultants in principle. The head of Ophthalmics is a woman. The head of Geriatrics is a woman—’

      ‘You just don’t want one in your own back yard,’ she finished for him furiously. ‘Well, I’m sorry, but I’m here for the duration, and you and your fragile male ego are just going to have to get used to it!’

      Yikes, but where had that come from? she wondered, seeing anger darken his blue eyes. She’d never been the confrontational type. Deborah was always telling her she was too darned soft for her own good, but this man…He constantly seemed to bring out the worst in her.

      Which didn’t mean she was going to apologise.

      Dammit, why should she? If he was a chauvinist—and she’d never in a million years have pegged him as one—then he was going to have to learn she wasn’t a pushover.

      Or at least not a complete one, she thought, forcing herself not to flinch back in her seat when he got to his feet and his broad shoulders blocked out the sunlight from her window.

      ‘Seth, listen—’

      ‘My shift starts in half an hour, and I’d like a coffee before I go on duty, so if there’s nothing else, Dr Mackenzie…?’

      He couldn’t even call her Olivia. Everybody else did. Jerry, Tony, Babs, Fiona. Only Seth seemed unable—or unwilling—to force her name through his teeth.

      ‘Seth—’

      ‘I really would like that coffee.’

      It was hopeless, she thought as she gazed up into his implacable face. Completely and utterly hopeless.

      ‘I’ll see you later, then,’ she said, and without a word, or even so much as a nod, he was gone.

      Stupid, pompous, arrogant man. What on earth was she going to do with him? If they couldn’t establish a decent working relationship she would have to ask for his resignation, and she didn’t want his resignation. He was an excellent consultant. Skilled, intuitive, unflappable.

      Handsome, too, her mind whispered as she gathered up the folders on her desk and she let out a huff of impatience. OK, so he was handsome, and when he smiled…Not that he’d done any smiling in her direction during the past week, but she’d seen him smile at Babs and Fiona, and it was the kind of smile that did odd things to a woman’s stomach.

      ‘Odd things to her brain, too,’ she murmured out loud as she put the folders in her filing cabinet and closed the drawer with a bang. ‘Face it, Liv. A man like Seth Hardcastle would leave you emotionally scarred for life.’

      Yes, but think of the fun while it lasted.

      Don’t think of the fun, she told herself severely as she walked out of her office and down to the examination room. The only thing you want from Seth Hardcastle is a good working relationship. Nothing more, nothing less.

      There didn’t seem to be much work going on in A and E when she opened the door. In fact, there didn’t seem to be any work going on at all, just Babs and Fiona crouched up against the back wall surrounded by a mass of squashed fruit.

      ‘What on earth’s going on?’ Olivia asked, only to duck quickly as a pear suddenly came shooting out of cubicle 6 followed by the sound of a male voice calling, ‘Cock-a-doodle-doo!’

      ‘Brian Taylor,’ Babs replied. ‘He came in with a badly cut hand, and Fiona and I had just got a saline drip into him when all hell broke loose.’

      ‘He’s one of our regulars, and a chronic alcoholic,’ the staff nurse chipped in. ‘We reckon he’s been on one of his three-day benders.’

      ‘Which doesn’t alter the fact that his hand needs stitching,’ Olivia said firmly. ‘Why haven’t you sedated him?’

      A watermelon sailed out of the cubicle and landed with a dull thud at Babs’s feet.

      ‘Because we’d rather like to finish the day in one piece,’ the sister replied. ‘So if you have any bright ideas on how we can get close enough to him…’

      It was a good point. It was also at times like this that Olivia wished she was a man. Preferably a six-foot-two-inch tall man with broad shoulders and blue eyes, but if she paged Seth he’d never let her forget it.

      ‘Where are Jerry and Tony?’ she asked.

      ‘Jerry’s in cubicle 1 with a possible duodenal, and Tony’s trying to figure out what’s wrong with the woman in 3.’

      Which meant she was on her own.

      Well, brawn wasn’t everything, she told herself. In fact, the voice of sweet reason could often be surprisingly effective.

      ‘Mr Taylor?’ she called out in her most reassuring voice. A bunch of bananas came hurtling through the curtains, and he started cock-a-doodling again. ‘What’s he got in there, Babs?’ she hissed. ‘The entire contents of a fruit shop?’

      The sister grinned. ‘We’re just hoping he didn’t stop off at his local fishmonger’s before he came here.’

      Olivia fervently hoped so, too. She chewed her lip for a second, then made up her mind. ‘I need a syringe loaded with the strongest sedative you’ve got.’

      Babs did as she asked, but when Olivia pocketed the syringe and got down on her hands and knees, the sister eyed her uncertainly. ‘Are you sure about this? I could call Seth—’

      Over her dead body. ‘Of course I’m sure,’ Olivia replied, but she didn’t feel anything like as confident when she crawled into the cubicle and caught sight of Mr Taylor sitting on top of the trolley.

      Dear lord, but he was huge. If he stopped throwing fruit and started throwing his fists, she was going to be in serious trouble.

      Think positive, Olivia, she told herself firmly. You might not have physical strength but you have intelligence. And probably about ten seconds in which to use it, she calculated as she stretched up, yanked the saline drip off its hook and then crouched