The Rebel Surgeon's Proposal

‘I wouldn’t write Francesca off just yet,’ she advised, pouring him a welcome cup of coffee. ‘She has a sensible head on her shoulders. Give her some time and have a bit of faith. You look exhausted. You need to rest as you have another night shift ahead of you.’

Having been unable to sleep all day on Friday after their steaming kiss had left him hot and hard, he had phoned her in the evening, desperately needing to hear the sound of her voice.

Francesca smothered a groan as she turned her head in time to see Luke enter the room. Still dressed in scrubs, he looked tired and rumbled.

‘You look tired. I think we can both use these days off. If I don’t see you before your shift ends, get home and have a good sleep. I’ll call you later and we can arrange to do something over the weekend.’

‘I don’t know how long I’ll be in Theatre,’ he told her, the expression in his green eyes intent as he looked at her. ‘But hopefully I’ll catch up with you before breakfast and walk you home.’

Luke brushed against her as he reached to change the images to view the fractures from another angle. ‘We’ll have to put a nail and screws in the femur and plates on the tib and fib.’
‘Looks like you’ll be in Theatre for a while.’