Her Celebrity Surgeon. Kate Hardy

notebook from his inside pocket and scribbled his mobile number. ‘I need to get going, but they can get me on this number or call me at the hospital—the Hampstead General.’

      ‘You work at our place?’ the younger paramedic asked.

      ‘Yep.’ Charlie glanced at his watch. ‘And I’d better get my skates on or I’ll be late for work.’ He was already late, but that couldn’t be helped.

      ‘Might as well come along with us, then,’ the younger paramedic said with a smile.

      Ten minutes after Sophie had left, Charlie walked into the department. ‘Sorry I’m late. Unavoidable delay,’ he said. Not that he was going to explain what his delay had been. I had to rescue a woman with angina and a boy with major burns. It would have sounded bleating or boastful or, worse, both together. ‘Thanks for waiting. I wouldn’t have blamed you all for getting on with your lists, thinking I wasn’t going to bother turning up.’

      Guy coughed. ‘I’m afraid the other firm isn’t here. Andy’s away today and Sophie, his registrar, was called into Theatre.’

      Pretty much as he would have expected. ‘No problem. Hopefully I’ll get a chance to catch up with them later.’ Charlie shook his hand. ‘Charlie Radley.’

      ‘Guy Allsopp, consultant surgeon. This is Mark, my registrar, and Abby, my house officer,’ Guy said. He quickly introduced the rest of the staff.

      ‘Pleased to meet you all. Well, let’s get the awkward stuff out of the way first,’ Charlie said. ‘First off, I know there were internal candidates for the job, so I imagine a few of you would much rather I wasn’t here. I’m sorry that someone had to be disappointed, but I hope we can learn from each other and work as a team.’

      He noticed that Guy and Abby exchanged very meaningful glances. Had Andy been an internal candidate and had he deliberately stayed away today? In that case, Sophie, as Andy’s registrar, was showing solidarity with the head of her firm. They were the ones who really needed to hear this speech.

      Ah, well. He’d make his peace with them both later. He had some other rumours to squash first.

      ‘Secondly, I know what hospital rumour mills are like, so you’re probably expecting a toff who spends more time with a string of blondes in little black dresses than with my patients, and who only does face lifts. I’m not planning to live up to those expectations. I’m here to do a job, I don’t have a string of girlfriends, I answer to “Charlie”, not “Your Lordship”, and I don’t do face lifts or nips and tucks.’ He smiled. ‘So. I hope we’ll get used to each other pretty quickly. My door isn’t always open because I think that’s intimidating—but I’m always happy to talk through any problems between seeing patients.’

      A few murmurs, but no outright hostility. Good. He could build on that.

      ‘And, finally, so I can get to know people who aren’t here today or are on a different shift, I’m planning drinks on Thursday night—my tab. If anyone can recommend a good bar, I’m all ears.’ And, please, please, any minute now the emergency department would bleep him, he’d have to go to Theatre and he could just relax and do the job he loved.

      ‘He’s gorgeous,’ Abby said.

      ‘Guy? Yeah, you already told me. Several times,’ Sophie said with a grin.

      ‘No. I mean Charlie.’

      ‘Charlie?’

      Her puzzlement must have shown on her face, because Abby added, ‘The new director of surgery.’

      Ah. The baron. ‘How nice for him,’ Sophie said coolly.

      Abby frowned. ‘Don’t be so hard on him. He’s a nice bloke.’

      He was upper class—and Sophie knew from experience just how not nice they could be. ‘Yeah. I bet,’ she said sarcastically, before she could stop herself.

      ‘He is. He’s buying drinks for everyone on Thursday night, and he’s included the auxiliary staff and the cleaners,’ Abby protested.

      Sophie shrugged. ‘So? He’s a baron. Rich. He can afford it. It’s an empty gesture, Abby.’

      Abby frowned. ‘He’s not a snob, if that’s what you’re thinking. He’s genuine.’ She added what she clearly thought was her trump card: ‘Guy likes him.’

      ‘Well, that’s all right, then, isn’t it?’ Sophie asked.

      ‘Soph, I don’t understand why you’re so anti.’

      ‘I’m not anti. I’m just saying I don’t like politics and I don’t think they have any place in hospitals. We should be looking after our patients, not playing games.’

      ‘Charlie doesn’t seem like a game-player.’ Abby took a swig of her coffee. ‘Let’s agree to disagree, shall we?’

      ‘I’ll drink to that.’ Sophie raised her own cup.

      They’d been talking shop for about five minutes when a tray clattered onto the table next to theirs. ‘Hi, Soph.’

      ‘Hello, Guy.’ She smiled at him. And then looked up at the man standing next to Guy—into the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.

      Baron R. C. Radley.

      The photographs in the gossip rags simply didn’t do him justice. In the press he always looked slightly unreal—with a perfect tan, even white teeth and not so much as a faint shadow under his eyes or a blemish on his skin.

      In the flesh, he was something else. Tall—about six feet two, she’d guess—with dark hair cut just a little bit too short. Sculpted cheekbones, a haughty nose—very patrician. Except his lower lip was full and gave him a slightly vulnerable air, and there were tiny lines at the corners of his eyes that told her that he smiled a lot.

      Her pulse started to hammer, and the back of her neck tingled. Gorgeous didn’t even begin to describe him. Neither did mouth-watering. He was both—and more.

      Please, don’t let her mouth be hanging open.

      ‘Let me introduce you,’ Guy said. ‘Soph, this is Charlie. Charlie, this is Sophie Harrison, the senior registrar on Andy’s team.’

      Charlie placed his tray carefully on the table and held his hand out. ‘Pleased to meet you. And I’m sorry I missed you this morning.’

      He had a posh voice. The sort that usually raised her hackles. So why did she suddenly want to purr? Not good. Not good at all.

      Sophie was aware that Abby and Guy were both staring at her. Oh, yes. She was meant to shake the baron’s hand. Though when she did, she wished she hadn’t. Her skin was actually tingling where it had touched him.

      No way. She wasn’t going to fall under the spell of someone like him—a womaniser and a toff. Absolutely not. ‘Sorry I couldn’t wait.’ For you to bother to turn up. ‘I had a full list.’

      ‘Of course. Patients are nervous enough before an operation—the last thing they need are unexpected delays.’

      Not quite the reaction she’d been expecting. Wasn’t he supposed to be offended that she hadn’t waited to tug her forelock?

      Before she could reply, one of the nurses came over. ‘Hey, Charlie!’

      Batted eyelashes—and Sophie would bet that the nurse had just breathed in hard. Certainly, her bust was difficult to ignore. Her name tag said that she was from the emergency department. Don’t say their new director of surgery had already started working his way through the nurses?

      ‘I thought you might like to know how Mrs Ward’s getting on. She’s stable and we’re sending her home.’

      ‘That’s good,’ Charlie said.

      ‘How’s Liam?’ she asked.

      ‘Out of Theatre. Guy did a good