The Surgeon's Baby Surprise. Charlotte Hawkes
stared at him in delight until the happiness turned to heat as he pinned her down with an intense gaze of his own.
‘I like that a lot,’ he repeated, his voice a low rumble. ‘In plastics particularly, it’s important to me to know who wants my help, and who truly needs it to turn their life around. Sometimes it’s easy to tell but other times it isn’t so clear-cut.’
Caught in his regard, she felt the atmosphere between them shift slightly. Heat began to rise in her face, travelling down her neck, through her chest until it pooled at the apex between her legs. This was the effect Max always had on her. Sometimes, the way he looked at her almost convinced her he was attracted to her, too.
But that was just fanciful thinking, wasn’t it? She’d give anything to know what he was thinking, right now.
‘Thank you, I—’
‘So, how’s she doing?’
‘Sorry?’
‘Your patient with the significant breast asymmetry.’
Another thrill fizzed through Evie. Had he been watching her?
She hastily reprimanded herself. It was the cases Max was interested in, not the fact that she was on them. She shouldn’t be surprised that he knew the patient. She would bet he kept track of all the cases that came through his department—he was that kind of conscientious surgeon.
‘That is why you were staring so distractedly into the vending machine, I take it? I also heard you’ve been reading the Riot Act to one of my colleagues. Are you always this passionate about your patients, Dr Parker?’
Evie blinked, suddenly thrown. His guess might be off, but his assessment of her state of mind was surprisingly on the money.
She had always got deeply involved with her patients, it was true. Her work at the centre had always been more than a job; it had been a calling. But he was right, this case felt personal. She needed to win this battle and help this young girl change her life.
Because this week Evie had received the worst news of her life. Her own body was failing her and soon she might not even be able to help herself, let alone anybody else.
It hadn’t been completely out of the blue. Fifteen years ago she’d been diagnosed with polycystic kidney disease, PKD, but she’d never shown any symptoms. However, during her routine check-up this week, to her shock, decreased kidney function had been detected. Her nephrologist had warned her that, whilst she could continue as normal for now, within the next six to twelve months she would begin to feel too exhausted to even continue as a doctor, and within a couple of years she would need a kidney transplant.
If she didn’t get a new kidney she would never be able to help another troubled child, never have a child of her own. Worst-case scenario, she might not even have her life.
She hadn’t confided it to a soul. She hadn’t wanted to. And part of her had an inexplicable urge to spill all her fears to this man right here, right now. If she could trust anyone with this secret, it would be Maximilian Van Berg.
Yet another part of her held back. Better to stay away from her personal problems, concentrate on someone she could help: her patient.
Evie drew in a breath and sipped tentatively at the hot drink to steady her nerves.
‘Honestly, it’s just that my patient really does need this operation, not just for the obvious physical benefit but, as far as I’m concerned, for her mental well-being. She’s on the brink of psychological depression, becoming more and more disruptive in school, and becoming so reclusive that her social skills aren’t developing.’
‘The issue, as I’ve seen, is that one of her breasts is barely an A-cup and the other is almost a D-cup, so the need for an operation in the future is inevitable?’ he stated abruptly.
‘Right.’ Evie nodded as Max frowned. So he had been looking into the case file.
‘She can’t wear a bra that fits, she can’t go swimming with her friends, or go to friends’ houses for a sleepover. She can’t even change in front of them for a basic PE lesson in school without being taunted. It’s making her withdraw socially, and she’s now developing stress-induced Irritable Bowel Syndrome.’
‘I read the file, Dr Parker,’ he responded, removing his drink from the machine and taking a generous gulp.
The man must have an asbestos mouth.
She gave an imperceptible shake of her head to refocus her thoughts.
‘However, the paediatric surgeon we spoke to doesn’t want to operate due to her young age. He doesn’t want to operate when the patient is still growing and developing, and he doesn’t know if she could cope mentally with the procedures, including an implant.’
‘He has a point.’
‘I appreciate that, and you must know how cautious I am about making such recommendations. But I’ve worked with this girl for almost a year. I don’t believe its body dysmorphic disorder, and I know it’s a fear of all paediatric plastic surgeons that they could miss such a diagnosis. In this case it clearly isn’t an imagined or minor so-called defect in her appearance. It is something which is understandably imposing significant limitations on her life.’
‘And what about realising the impact of these procedures? Does your patient understand that her body will never be perfect, that she will have to deal with the scars from the operation?’
‘She absolutely does understand that. But, in her own words, the scar is something she could live with. It wouldn’t prevent her from wearing a bra, or a swimsuit, or a prom dress. All things she currently can’t do.’
He pinned her with a look that was more about the undercurrents running between them than the conversation they were ostensibly having.
‘And your assessment is that this procedure isn’t just about rectifying the physical problem but is necessary for developing well-being?’
‘I think it’s essential to her self-esteem and her social development at this crucial time in her life, Mr Van Berg.’
Her hands shook as she took another steadying sip of her coffee, her eyes still locked with his over the plastic rim.
‘Then I’ll take a look at the case before I leave.’
‘You would do that for her?’
‘I told you before, I respect you as one professional to another,’ he growled. ‘So, how’s the boyfriend?’
Evie stiffened. As it happened her latest attempt at a boyfriend had resulted in being unceremoniously dumped when his mother had deemed her not good enough for her precious son, after Evie had revealed that she would never be able to give the woman the longed-for grandchild.
She hadn’t loved the guy, but, still, it had been painful. It had hurt being told that she wasn’t good enough, an echo of the hurt she’d felt when her father had walked out all those years ago.
But surely Max couldn’t know about her pathetic love-life? She’d be a laughing stock. Hospital gossip was an unstoppable machine, everyone knew that, but, not working at Silvertrees permanently, she’d always convinced herself that she escaped the worst of it. Still, if people did know, then she couldn’t afford to lie to Max now.
‘Gone.’
She fought to affect nonchalance.
‘Good. He didn’t deserve you anyway,’ Max murmured, his hand reaching slowly up to lower the cup from her lips.
‘You didn’t know him,’ she protested mildly.
‘I know if he lost you, he’s a loser.’
Evie swallowed hard, unable to tear her eyes away from his.
‘I’m going to check on your patient now. All I ask in return is that you join me for a drink in the bar