The Joker, fuming at my victory, and also looking confused by Dr Lucas Lang’s use of my nickname, gives me such a scathing look I feel my stomach curdle a bit. He’ll get the last laugh, as we both know, back in the operating theatre where there are no Lucas Langs to rescue me.

When the meeting has ended, Lucas saunters over to me. My legs go a little weak at his proximity. The man emanates sexual charisma. Regret at not having sex with him hits me like a freight train.

Max, ignoring my obvious eye signals, stays glued to my side. The Joker thankfully has been distracted by another consultant and has vanished, no doubt to argue about operative success rates.

‘Dr Holliday,’ Lucas says.

‘Dr Lang,’ I reply.

Max clears his throat.

‘This is my housemate, Max,’ I say grudgingly.

Lucas lunges forward, grabs Max’s hand and gives it the most enthusiastic shake I’ve ever seen.

‘Um, hello,’ Max says weakly. ‘I, uh, I guess I’d better go check on the ward.’ He is looking dazed as he turns and walks away.

Lucas looks into my eyes and smiles. ‘God, you make me laugh,’ he says, flashing his perfect teeth at me.

‘I just love being put on the spot by senior surgeons who’ve seen my breasts,’ I say in a low voice, smiling back at him. I might not be very good at interpreting cardiac angiograms, but he isn’t the only one who specialises in the flirt under pressure.

He laughs under his breath. ‘Katarina,’ he murmurs, ‘naughty.’

Another surgeon comes over, giving me a glance. ‘How’d your CAGs go on that old bloke last week, Lucas?’

‘Yeah, fine,’ Lucas says dismissively.

I break in. ‘I read an article that said more people are choosing stenting by cardiologists nowadays because they don’t want their chests cracked open, even if open-heart surgery may end up better for their vessels.’

He ignores the jibe and says, ‘That’s a special interest area of mine, actually—can you send me the link?’

‘I would, but I don’t have your number …’

‘That’s easily resolved,’ he says. ‘I’ll give it to you.’

I type the digits into my phone as he recites them. Where is this little exchange heading? I wonder.

As I walk back onto the ward, I take an indulgent trip down memory lane.

God, you’re so hot … I always knew you’d have the most perfect tits.

I can’t help grinning as I follow the Joker to the bedside. He is looking at me suspiciously, clearly perturbed by my unusually cheerful demeanour, when his phone starts to ring.

He glances at the caller ID. ‘It’s your boyfriend,’ he says sarcastically, putting the phone to his ear. ‘Hi, Lucas.’ The Joker listens then rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, she’s here with me.’ He turns to me. ‘What’s your number?’ he asks impatiently.