Sydney Harbour Hospital: Tom's Redemption. Fiona Lowe

flick he extended his cane. She jumped sideways, narrowly avoiding being hit.

      ‘I’m so glad that you’re honouring me with the title of “gun” lecturer,’ he continued. ‘I mean, after all, that’s what the last twenty years of my life have been about. Forget neurosurgery. Forget saving lives or improving lives and lessening pain. All of that pales into insignificance compared to giving a gun lecture, especially to a group of people who’ll probably never come close to achieving the level of technical expertise I was known for.’ He started walking. ‘But you wouldn’t understand that, Hayley.’

      His words fired into her like a shot, and she crossed her arms to stop herself from trembling from his unexpected verbal assault. To stop herself shaking from an incandescent fury that was fuelled by his deliberate misconstruction of her sentiments, and his belief that he alone had suffered in life. She knew far too intimately about loss and how life went on regardless.

      He was blind, not dead, and she wasn’t treading carefully around him any more. ‘Were you this rude before you went blind?’

      He stopped walking and his roared reply echoed around the now empty auditorium. ‘I was a neurosurgeon.’

      She swayed at the blast. ‘I’ll take that as a “yes”, then.’

      For a moment he didn’t speak. His sightless emerald eyes continued to stare at her but his previously hard expression had softened a touch. ‘Out of curiosity, Hayley, are you new to The Harbour because you were asked to leave your last post?’

      As a woman in the very male-dominated world of surgery, she’d learned early to stand her ground. Something told her this was the only approach with the darkly charismatic Tom Jordan. Her chin shot up. ‘My recommendations from The Royal in London make the paper they’re written on glow in the dark.’

      She waited for a sarcastic put-down but a beat went by and then he laughed. A big, bold, deep laugh that made his eyes crinkle up at the edges and sparkle like the sea on a sunny day.

      ‘Which is why I imagine you got a coveted surgical registrar’s position at The Harbour.’

      She dropped her arms by her sides and relaxed slightly, knowing his statement was as close as a man like Tom Jordan would ever come to a compliment. ‘It was the top of my list because of its association with Parkes University.’

      ‘Mine too.’ His brows drew down for a moment and then he seemed to throw off the frown. ‘You said before you had a hellish day and mine, as you’ve adroitly deduced, wasn’t much better. How about we end it in a more pleasant way and I buy you dinner?’

      Shocked surprise sent her blood swooping to her toes and was instantly followed by a flare of heat. Dinner? The idea of dinner with Tom Jordan the surgeon delighted her because she’d love to hear more about his pioneering operations. The idea of dinner with Tom Jordan the man didn’t generate quite the same feelings. An evening of verbal sparring would be exhausting and she was already beyond tired, but there was also a tiny part of her that was intrigued. He was heart-stoppingly handsome, just as the nurses had told her, but his soul had a shadow on it darker than his cocoa-coloured hair. That was enough to warn her that dinner wasn’t a good idea.

      That and the fact that she generally didn’t date.

      Vacillating, she bit her lip. ‘That’s very kind of you but—’

      ‘But what?’ The thin veneer of politeness that covered all that raw energy and ‘take no prisoners’ attitude cracked yet again.

      She almost snapped at him and said, ‘Because of that’, but as she opened her mouth she saw a different tension in his jaw. He’s expecting you to say no. The thought made her stomach squirm. Did he really think she’d reject his invitation because he was blind?

      Rude, yes, blind, no.

      She thought of all the people at the lecture who’d known him when he’d been head of neurosurgery and who’d prevaricated and then chosen not to speak to him because they didn’t know what to say to the man who’d once held the pinnacle of all surgery positions. She wouldn’t do that to him even if the thought of dinner came more under the banner of duty than pleasure.

      Decision made, she pulled her shoulders back. ‘I was going to say I’m not really dressed for dinner.’

      ‘Dressed or naked makes no difference to me, but I assume you have clothes on.’

      Her breasts tingled at the lazy way his mouth roved over the word ‘naked’ and she was thankful he couldn’t see her pebbled nipples pushing against her T-shirt. As she tried to get her wayward body back under control she managed to splutter out an inane ‘Of course I’ve got clothes on.’

      His brows rose and he extended his arm. ‘Then you’re dressed for dinner. Hurry up before I change my mind.’

      She rolled her eyes but slid her arm under his. His fingers immediately curved around her elbow, his warmth seeping through her long-sleeved T-shirt. ‘I’m completely bowled over by your charm.’

      ‘Of course you are.’

      He smiled at her and her knees sagged. Dimples carved through evening stubble, changing everything about him. The hard planes of his face yielded to the softer lines of humour, light replaced dark and bitter gave way to sweet. Everything inside her melted. What have I just gone and done?

      The sarcastic, bitter man was easy to resist. This more human version of Tom Jordan—not so much.

       What the hell possessed you?

      Now that Tom was seated opposite Hayley at Warung Bali, a casual restaurant a short walk from the hospital, the reality of inviting her to dinner hit him hard. He’d shocked himself with the unanticipated invitation, which had come out of nowhere. One minute he’d been livid with the injustice of everything that had happened to him and not being able to operate, and the next he’d found himself smiling and the anger had faded slightly.

       Still, dinner?

      Yes, that had probably been overkill, but after the lecture, part of him had wanted to hold on to something that resembled normality. Before blindness had stolen more than his sight, he’d often dated and more than once he’d taken a nurse or a resident for an impromptu drink at Pete’s. He’d avoided Pete’s tonight because revisiting the social hub of The Harbour on ‘half-price Wednesdays’ would have been more than he could bear.

      The reaction of the medical students to his lecture at lunchtime had been in stark contrast to that of his colleagues this evening. It had taken him close to an hour to deal with the number of students who’d wanted to speak to him at the end of the lecture. Only a few of his previous colleagues had made themselves known to him and he understood why. If his career had been chopped off at the knees from one act of fate, then so could theirs be, and it terrified them. So they’d avoided him.

      Now he was avoiding them.

      He’d brought Hayley to this restaurant because he often ate here and it was a short walk from his apartment. Prior to tonight, he’d only ever eaten here alone so he hadn’t anticipated that Wayan, the owner, would give Hayley such a rapturous welcome and offer champagne.

      Tom had quickly gone into damage control. This wasn’t a date. It was just a meal with a fellow doctor and an attempt at reality—nothing more, nothing less. In the past, he’d rarely taken anyone out more than once so the chances of this ever being repeated were exceedingly slim.

      ‘Hayley is a colleague at the hospital, Wayan.’

      ‘Hello, Wayan.’ Her smoky voice had been infused with warmth. ‘As much as the idea of champagne is tempting, I’m on call and iced water would be wonderful.’

      They’d discussed the menu, ordered their food, which had arrived promptly, and the pungent bouquet of lemon grass, coriander, peanut satay and chilli hadn’t disappointed. The flavours on his tongue matching the promise of the tantalising aroma. Wayan had placed the food on the table