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‘So I’m a workaholic.’ He spread his hands. ‘It’s not a crime. Plenty of other people work as hard as I do.’
She flushed. ‘I’m not nagging.’
‘Actually, you are.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘But I suppose you have a point. All right.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Do you have to be somewhere, or do you fancy going for a drink?’
He was asking her out?
Her thoughts must have shown on her face, because he raised an eyebrow. ‘As colleagues.’
‘And then you’ll blank me on Monday morning?’ she asked wryly.
He sighed. ‘I’ll try not to. So. Do you want to go for a drink?’
‘Thanks, but at this time of night everywhere’s going to be crowded and noisy.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Not to mention dark.’
‘Which means it’ll be difficult for you to hear or lip-read.’ He grimaced. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t think.’
She shrugged. ‘Not your problem. But thanks for the offer, anyway. It was nice of you to ask.’ And even though she was tempted—severely tempted—she didn’t suggest an alternative. Because it would be all too easy to let herself fall for Rhys Morgan, to want something from him that he clearly wasn’t prepared to give. ‘I’d better be going. Have a nice weekend.’
‘You, too.’
CHAPTER FIVE
RHYS was polite and pleasant over the following couple of weeks, treating Katrina just the same as his other colleagues. But Katrina found herself looking at his mouth when he talked, and not just to read his lips—half the time her attention strayed and she found herself wondering what it would be like to feel his mouth travelling along her skin. Every time her hand brushed against his, she felt that weird prickle of awareness down her spine, and the feeling grew stronger every single time.
Oh, lord. She should know better. Somehow she had to stop that weird, flipping-over sensation in the area of her heart every time she looked at him.
The worst thing was, she was pretty sure it was the same for him. Because she’d seen him looking at her mouth, too. She’d noticed his colour heighten when his hand brushed against hers—and she’d seen the way his eyes widened for just a fraction of a second and his mouth parted very, very slightly.
Signs of attraction. Of arousal.
And whenever she thought about it her temperature went up another notch.
Katrina was beginning to think that not acting on that mutual attraction was going to make life just as difficult as if they gave in to it and had an affair. And even though it was going to be awkward and embarrassing, she was going to have to talk to him about it. Be honest. And see if he had any better and more sensible ideas than the ones that were running through her own head.
She managed to keep her mind on her work—just—when she was talking to young Kevin Lacey and his mum. Though it really didn’t help that Mrs Lacey had a very soft voice, and kept her head bowed so her hair fell in her face and obscured Katrina’s view of her mouth.
Oh, lord.
She couldn’t hear a single one of Mrs Lacey’s questions, and she really wasn’t sure that either Kevin or Mrs Lacey had taken in what she’d been saying about Kevin’s condition and the operation he was going to have the following day.
Katrina definitely looked strained, Rhys thought. Which was unusual: normally she was brilliant with parents, relaxed and comforting. And although young Kevin Lacey had a serious condition, it was one that could be controlled rather than something terminal, so it wasn’t one of those conversations where you knew the parents’ hearts were breaking and you felt completely helpless and wondered what use all those years of training were.
A second look made him guess what the problem was: Katrina couldn’t see Mrs Lacey’s face to lip-read. The lunch trolley was coming round, so the ward was at its noisiest, with cutlery scraping against plates and everyone raising their voices correspondingly. Katrina must be really struggling to hear, he thought, especially if Mrs Lacey’s voice was particularly quiet—and, judging by her body language, he rather thought it was.
He walked over to them. ‘Hello. I’m Dr Morgan. How are you doing, Kevin?’
‘All right,’ Kevin replied bravely, through from his pallor and the way the child was wincing Rhys realised that he was far from all right. Clearly his enlarged spleen was causing him pain.
‘Mrs Lacey?’
‘Dr Gregory’s being very helpful,’ Mrs Lacey said.
He could barely catch what Mrs Lacey was saying, and his hearing was perfect. So, even with the hearing aid, Katrina didn’t stand a chance. Not that he’d bring up her deafness, particularly in front of a patient or parent: he knew she was sensitive about it. But there was something he could do to make things easier for her. ‘It’s pretty noisy out here because it’s lunchtime,’ he said, ‘and I know you must have a lot of questions about Kevin’s condition and his operation tomorrow. Dr Gregory, I’m on a break now. Would you like to use my office so you’ve got somewhere a little quieter and less distracting to run through all the procedures with Mrs Lacey?’
