LITMIR.BIZ

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he would return for good. ‘You will let me know if…if they need me to come back sooner?’

      ‘Of course, big brother,’ Karim reassured him quietly. ‘I won’t let you down. Go with God.’

      Razak sighed heavily and sank back into the comfort of his recliner when the connection was broken. Sometimes he felt really guilty for being so far away when his parents were growing so frail. Not that he would be allowed to take care of their health even if he were right on the spot. His mother was far too traditional to be comfortable with a male doctor and his father would always see him as a little boy and consequently ignore any advice he gave him.

      ‘A thirty-one-year-old boy,’ he scoffed aloud even as he shot back his cuff for another glare at his watch, then gave a growl of annoyance when he realised that he wouldn’t be getting any answers today. ‘At this rate, I’ll already have finished my contract and returned home by the time they make their minds up.’

      For a moment he contemplated staying where he was to watch some mindless pap on the television, but the idea didn’t appeal. He seemed to have spent most of the day sitting down and felt a desperate need for some exercise.

      ‘A gallop on horseback,’ he said longingly, remembering the muscular feel of the back of the horse between his thighs and the hot wind streaming through his hair the last time he’d been home. But this was neither the time nor the place. The only horse suited to a city street certainly wasn’t the sort of beast he was happy riding. His tastes ran to pure-blooded Arabians, hardy, strong far beyond their refined appearance, more intelligent than any dog and with an intrinsic fire that was bred bone-deep in them.

      ‘That’s the first thing I’ll do the next time I go home,’ he promised himself. ‘I shall take a horse out and lose myself for a day, so I can refresh my soul.’ But in the meantime he had a choice of running round and round on the indoor track at his sports club or swimming endless lengths in the pool, and he could make that decision when he got there. Then it would be time to sleep if he was going to be refreshed enough to deal with the fresh blood coming into the department in the morning.

      ‘Dr L. Langley,’ he mused aloud, wondering what the L stood for. He’d been angry when he’d first heard that a female surgeon had been appointed to his team, believing that the more senior consultants in the department had done it deliberately to spoil his chances of making a success of his project. But as he was only here on a short contract, he’d been allowed no say in the decision and would have to hope that if she wasn’t up to doing what he needed at the moment, she was at least willing to learn.

      ‘Enough!’ He hefted his sports bag over his shoulder and grabbed keys and phone, determined to switch his brain off to everything connected to work.

      He would get to know all about Dr Langley soon enough. Hoping that she was a dedicated surgeon with the power and stamina of a plough horse was definitely not politically correct, but he didn’t need some delicate, willowy, model type who couldn’t carry her share of the load, no matter how easy she might be on the eye.

      ‘Women don’t belong in orthopaedics,’ said a voice behind the door, just as Lily began to push it open, and she froze in disbelief as it continued with all the authority of some demi-god pronouncing from on high. ‘They just don’t have the upper-body strength for it. If they want to do surgery, they should stick to something they’re more suited to.’

      For just a second she contemplated turning on her heel and retreating to the locker room, but retreat had never been her way. Otherwise she’d never have got so far in her chosen field. With her chin tilted just a fraction higher, she forced a smile to her face and took the last step that brought her denigrator into full view. ‘So, while most of the one and a half thousand orthopaedic surgeons in the country are running waiting lists of up to a hundred and forty patients, each waiting for up to nine months for their operation, you’re suggesting that I should spend my time doing tummy tucks instead?’ she said, while inside her head she was groaning, Not again!

      She’d hoped that, having got this far, she would at least have proved to the ‘old school’ orthopaedic surgeons that she was capable of doing the job, but it seemed as if their prejudices were still alive and festering unchecked in her new job. Did her immediate boss feel the same way?

      Of the all-male group that had turned to face her, it was easy to spot the one looking uncomfortable at being overheard and he was the one she strode towards first with her hand outstretched. She took a grim delight in demonstrating that he was nearly a head shorter than she was and he was also definitely past his prime, with a large gut filling out his theatre greens like an advanced pregnancy.

      ‘I’m Lily Langley,’ she announced, probably completely unnecessarily as they’d just been discussing her appointment. Well, she mused as she deliberately made a point of offering her hand to each in turn, forcing them to introduce themselves, there was one good point about that embarrassing start—at least she hadn’t been left in any doubt about their attitude towards her.

      One, Colin Wetherall, even went so far as to try to crush her knuckles under the guise of shaking her hand but he was the one left wincing, the hours she’d spent in the gym finally paying off in spades.

      Not that she’d hurt him, she reassured herself silently as she worked her way around the semi-circle. She’d only flexed her hard-won muscles enough to let him know that his attempt at a power play hadn’t worked. Then she turned to face the final member of the group.

      ‘Hello,’ she said, as she actually had to look up a couple of inches to meet eyes so dark that with the light behind him it was almost impossible to see where pupil and iris met. But it was the twinkle of humour in them that robbed her of words.

      ‘Razak Khaled Khan,’ he said, the harsh syllables of his name softened by a voice that flowed like honey over her nerves, then he held out his hand, lowering his voice as he added, ‘Be gentle with me, please!’

      Lily laughed aloud. She couldn’t help it when he’d managed to tickle her sense of the ridiculous. She wouldn’t even attempt to intimidate someone like this, especially when he was her boss.

      He had such innate presence that she didn’t know how she’d managed to miss seeing him immediately when she’d walked into the room, but now that she’d met his eyes, it seemed impossible to look away.

      ‘Not all of us feel the same way as Reg and Colin,’ he reassured her. ‘Some of us have actually learned that it’s not just what we do but how we do it that matters.’

      ‘Thus proving evolutionary theory correct?’ she queried, suddenly realising that her hand was still securely wrapped in his and tugging surreptitiously. To her surprise, he resisted, tightening his grip fractionally to prevent her retrieving it.

      He tightened his grip still further and nodded when she automatically matched the pressure with her own. ‘Good. You have worked hard to improve your strength, but have you sacrificed dexterity?’ he challenged.

      ‘I can thread a needle with the best of them,’she reassured him. ‘But you’ll see for yourself when we start work.’

      ‘Not if he has his way,’ interrupted Reg with an unexpected touch of venom to his tone. ‘He’s been trying to get the hospital to agree to some ridiculous conveyor-belt system that will mean we wouldn’t even have time to breathe, let alone speak, and as for mentoring…Forget it! Thank goodness the hospital’s administrators have got more sense than wasting scarce resources on it.’

      Lily saw the way Razak’s face fell with disappointment and she felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. Whatever this scheme was, it was clearly close to his heart.

      ‘They have sent the department a written decision?’ he demanded, turning on his heel to stride towards the pigeonholes on the wall behind the door, then flicking impatiently through the handful of items waiting in the slot labelled ‘Khan’.

      ‘Well, no,’ Reg admitted reluctantly. ‘But it stands to reason that they will, man. It’s taken years to get the funding released for that new theatre suite to be built. Do you really think they’re

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