The Pregnant Surgeon. Jennifer Taylor

a year or so ago when bad management, combined with a lack of funding, had taken its toll. However, the surgical team had been gradually rebuilding its reputation under her leadership and she’d been determined that her hard work wouldn’t be ruined by appointing the wrong person to the post.

      It had seemed a logical explanation at the time and she’d thought no more about it until it had happened again when she had spoken to Dr Archer on the telephone the previous day. The minute she’d heard his deep voice coming over the line she’d experienced that same fluttering of her nerves, the same tightness in her stomach. She’d been so surprised that it had been difficult to concentrate as she’d explained to Dr Archer that she would be monitoring his work for the first week or so. It had been a relief when her beeper had gone off and she’d been able to excuse herself but she couldn’t deny that it was worrying that she had found it happening again that day.

      What was it about Dr Dylan Archer that disturbed her so much?

      Joanna’s mobile mouth thinned when she realised how foolish it was to waste time worrying about something so trivial. Opening the office door, she briskly greeted her secretary. ‘Good morning, Lisa.’

      ‘Morning, Ms Martin. The post is on your desk and Professor Humphrey’s phoned to remind you about the dinner tonight.’ Lisa handed her a yellow message slip. ‘He said to tell you that twenty minutes should be long enough for your talk.’

      ‘Right, that’s fine.’ Joanna barely glanced at the message as she headed towards her room, not needing any reminders about the coming evening. She had been asked to give a speech at the Royal College of Surgeons Annual dinner that night and had spent hours working on her script. It was an honour to be asked to speak at such a prestigious event but she wasn’t nervous about it. She was extremely good at her job and she knew it—that gave her all the confidence she needed.

      Thinking about confidence reminded her of Dr Archer and she paused, trying to quell that irritating little flutter which had started up once more. ‘Before I forget, Lisa, can you phone Reception and ask them to keep an eye open for Dr Archer? I have a very full list this morning and I don’t want him getting lost when he’s supposed to be assisting me. Perhaps one of the reception staff could fetch him up here?’

      ‘Oh, he’s already here, Ms Martin! He arrived about half an hour ago, in fact.’ Lisa grimaced. ‘Sorry. I should have told you that before, shouldn’t I?’

      ‘Yes, you should,’ Joanna agreed, stifling a sigh. Lisa had been working for her for little more than a month and still tended to be rather scatterbrained at times. However, she was a hard worker so Joanna was prepared to allow her some leeway while she settled in. ‘Anyway, you’ve told me now so it isn’t a problem. Can you make some coffee, please, and bring it through to my room? Then you can print out this morning’s list so I can run through it with Dr Archer before we go down to Theatre.’

      ‘Oh, but he’s already there—in Theatre, I mean. He asked me to tell you that’s where he’d be if you wanted him.’

      ‘In Theatre? What do you mean that he’s in Theatre?’ It was impossible to hide her annoyance and Joanna saw the young secretary look anxiously at her.

      ‘A and E phoned to ask you to see a patient who’d been brought in. Dylan…I mean, Dr Archer was here at the time and he offered to go instead because you hadn’t arrived.’ Lisa sounded flustered as she tried to explain what had happened. ‘Evidently, the man needed surgery urgently so Dr Archer took him to Theatre.’

      ‘I see. Thank you, Lisa. In that case you may as well forget the coffee for now. I’ll go down to Theatre and see if Dr Archer needs a hand.’

      Joanna summoned a smile before she went into her office but she couldn’t deny that she was furiously angry. The fact that Dr Archer had taken it upon himself to operate after she had expressly told him that she wanted to monitor his work was bad enough. However, hearing her secretary refer to the registrar by his first name just seemed to make matters worse, though she couldn’t understand why it should have annoyed her so much.

      Although she preferred the junior staff to address her as Ms Martin, what business was it of hers if Dr Archer liked to be known by his first name? A lot of surgeons had dispensed with formality and Dylan Archer was obviously one of them. Nevertheless, Joanna couldn’t help feeling irritated by the thought that her new registrar had made his presence felt so quickly. He’d been in the hospital for less than an hour and already her secretary was calling him Dylan and passing on messages for him!

      Joanna’s grey eyes darkened as she clipped her beeper to the waistband of her tailored black skirt. She wasn’t used to her staff deliberately flouting her orders and wasn’t prepared to put up with it from the newest member of her team. Smoothing the collar of her white silk blouse over the lapels of her suit jacket, she left her office and made her way to the stairs. The theatres were on the floor below and it wasn’t worth waiting for the lift. The sooner she made it clear to Dr Archer that she expected him to toe the line the happier everyone would be.

      Elective surgery had already started that day but Joanna bypassed Theatres one and two where members of her team were hard at work. She was confident that she could leave them to deal with their patients because she had spent hours supervising their training. It was the surgeon who was operating in Theatre three she needed to check on. Although Dr Archer’s references had been excellent, she wanted to see for herself if he really was as good as his previous employers had claimed. It was an unwritten rule that everyone who joined her department should undergo a period of supervision, but Dr Archer obviously considered himself to be above that. However, there was no way that Joanna was prepared to compromise for anyone.

      Just for a moment she found herself wondering if she might be overreacting before she dismissed the thought. This had nothing whatsoever to do with her personal feelings towards Dylan Archer. She hardly knew the man so how could she have any feelings about him of a personal nature? No, this was a strictly professional matter and she would make sure that he understood that.

      She strode into the changing room and stripped off her suit jacket. She would scrub up and observe Dr Archer while he worked. And if there was the slightest doubt in her mind that he wasn’t equal to the job, she would terminate his contract immediately.

      ‘It’s a real mess in here. The sooner we get this spleen out, the happier I’ll be.’ Dylan nodded his thanks as Lucy Porter, the sister in charge of Theatre three that day, swabbed away the blood that was leaking from the damaged organ.

      The patient was a young man in his twenties who had been found unconscious in the street. He’d been beaten up and probably robbed as well because he’d had no money or any means of identification on him when he’d been found. The police were currently trying to find out who he was but the patient’s identity was the least of Dylan’s problems. His main concern was to make sure the young man didn’t die from his injuries, and it was going to be a very close call from the look of him.

      He deftly began clamping and severing the blood vessels leading to and from the spleen in readiness to removing it. The organ was badly damaged and it was difficult to see what he was doing because of the amount of blood. Lucy swabbed once more and once again Dylan nodded his thanks.

      He’d been impressed by the whole team’s professionalism from the minute they had entered Theatre. There had been none of the usual awkwardness that often arose when working with a new group of people. Everyone knew what he or she should be doing and got on with it, although he really wouldn’t have expected anything else. He couldn’t imagine Joanna Martin settling for second best where work was concerned.

      Dylan’s heart squeezed in an extra beat as an image of the beautiful head of surgery sprang to mind and he cursed under his breath. He wished it wouldn’t keep doing that! The last time he’d reacted this way had been in his teens when he’d had a crush on his chemistry teacher. Every time the woman had entered the classroom, his heart had run riot. Maybe there’d been an excuse for such pathetic behaviour at seventeen but he was thirty-five years of age and he should be well past that stage by now, yet he couldn’t seem to stop it happening. Every time he thought about Joanna