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Love Without Measure
Caroline Anderson
IT’S COMPLICATED…Staff Nurse Anna Jarvis adores her work in Audley memorial Hospital’s Emergency Department,, even though combining a full-time job with looking after her adorable four-year-old daughter Flissy has its complications! However, breathtakingly handsome Patrick Haddon—the new senior registrar—is a complication that Anna doesn’t need. She might not have announced Flissy’s existence to all and sundry, but by the look of the ring on his finger it’s clear that Patrick’s keeping a few secrets of his own . . .THE AUDLEY—where love is the best medicine of all…
Love Without Measure
Caroline Anderson
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#u4d7d48f0-cacc-55c8-9474-b3d1226a46f7)
Title Page (#u0a3e1360-a326-5ee2-908d-4dadc11c5772)
Chapter One (#udb9f60fe-c6bc-5c7f-ad31-cd9adca44176)
Chapter Two (#ub1c2ae70-e17f-5dd2-bb8e-e640ef2de559)
Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_f5058a9b-01f4-5cba-b897-4bfc662694b4)
ANNA heard his laugh first, a deep, rich chuckle that made the corners of her mouth curl involuntarily and softened the lines of tiredness around her eyes.
Laughter could convey many things, she thought—happiness, amusement, joy, even scorn and derision. This man’s laugh was sheer enjoyment, full of warmth and humour. It was the laugh of a man glad to be alive, and she sensed he was also comfortable, a man at ease with himself and the world.
It was also a big laugh, and she knew before she turned the corner that his body would match it. Even so, her first sight of him made her breath catch, and she faltered.
He was tall, his body lean and rangy, with wide, square shoulders and long legs; he was leaning against the wall, his white coat held back by the hands thrust deep into his trouser pockets, amply displaying his narrow hips and taut, flat stomach. One knee was bent and the sole of his shoe was propped casually against the wall at mid-calf.
He was deep in conversation with Jack Lawrence, the A and E unit consultant, and as she watched his mouth opened again and his head tipped back. The laugh rippled round her again, and she felt a shiver start deep inside. Who was he?
The new senior registrar, she realised. Patrick something. At least he looked confident. They had been plagued by a recent houseman who had been a total pain, and losing their previous and excellent SR Ben Bradshaw to an unknown quantity could have been very bad news. Hopefully this guy would pass muster, as a doctor anyway. As a man, there was no question.
She forced herself to walk towards them, confused by the sudden speeding of her heart. This was crazy—he was just a colleague! Probably, please, God, safely married like Ben.
He looked completely relaxed and thoroughly at home, which was quite remarkable considering he had only started on the unit ten minutes ago. That laugh found its way up from his throat again, teasing the air with its joyful sound. Anna’s mouth curved involuntarily.
As she approached Jack looked up with a smile and held out his arm towards her, drawing her into their circle.
‘Anna, I want you to meet Patrick Haddon, our new SR. Patrick, this is Staff Nurse Anna Jarvis, Kathleen’s second in command.’
He shrugged away from the wall, standing straight at last, so she could see how large he really was, and took his hands out of his pockets as he turned towards her.
The light caught the dull gleam of a gold band on the ring-finger of his left hand, and her breath eased out in a sigh of relief—relief that felt curiously like disappointment. He was married. She was conscious of the silly smile still lurking round her mouth, and forced it into a smile of welcome. His own mouth tipped into an answering grin, and she felt something kick under her ribs. ‘Hi,’ she managed, a touch breathlessly.
She took the proferred hand, noting almost absently its dry warmth and firm grip. It was his eyes which had her attention, though; they were a warm, deep brown, rich and full of humour, and yet still gentle. She had the feeling he could see into her soul. It was a most uncomfortable sensation, and yet curiously she didn’t feel threatened. It was only uncomfortable because it was so unexpected.
‘Hello, Anna,’ he said quietly, and his voice seemed to resonate deep inside her, rippling out into the cold, quiet reaches of her loneliness.
No! He was married! She dropped his hand, the contact suddenly too much to cope with. ‘Welcome aboard, Dr Haddon,’ she replied, managing to find the social niceties despite the strange sensations in the pit of her stomach. She turned towards the other man. ‘Jack, have you seen Kathleen?’
‘She’s in the end cubicle with a fracture. If you go and give her a hand I’ll be along in a minute, once I’ve sorted Patrick out.’
‘Thanks.’ She turned and walked away, conscious of those searching eyes following her. The hair on the back of her neck prickled, and she had to force herself not to run.
As she turned into the cubicle she risked a glance back. He was still watching her, his eyes steady, a thoughtful look on his face.
She went behind the curtain, her heart thumping. Not a flirt, she prayed. Please, God, not a flirt. Sexual harassment was the one thing Anna hated above all else, particularly when it came in the form of a flirting playboy, and most especially when he was married. She found herself feeling suddenly sorry for the wife she had dreamed up for him.
How must it feel to catch a man like that just to discover he was a will-o-the-wisp? She dismissed the memory of those eyes, far from flirting, just gently assessing, and seeing far too much for her peace of mind. She would think of him as a flirt. That way he would be easily dismissed, pushed to the back of her mind, not worth the time of day.
Kathleen looked up from the trousers she was easing off and smiled. ‘Good morning, Staff.’
‘Morning, Sister. Do you need a hand?’
‘Oh, yes, please. This is Mr James. He fell off the kerb, didn’t you?’
The man nodded and winced. ‘Right down a pothole. Teach me to look where I’m going, won’t it? Are you sure you shouldn’t cut those trousers?’
Kathleen laughed. ‘And have you sueing me for a new pair? Don’t worry, I’ll be careful.’
‘You’d better be,’ he muttered, grim-lipped, and subsided on to the pillow with a groan. Together Anna and Kathleen eased the trousers down, slipped his good foot out, and carefully removed them from the damaged one without even making him wince.
Perversely he looked disappointed, and Anna almost laughed.
The skin was very scraped, and Anna could see his foot was lying at a strange angle. Kathleen straightened up and smiled.
‘I’ll get a doctor to come and have a look at you, Mr James, while Staff Nurse Jarvis cleans you up a bit more.’
‘They’re in the corridor. Jack’s just coming,’ Anna told her, and Kathleen nodded and went out quietly through the curtain.
‘This looks very sore,’ Anna said as she pulled on gloves and cleaned the skin a little. ‘Am I hurting you?’
‘It is rather tender,’ he said a bit stiffly, and Anna stopped as soon as she had wiped away the worst of the blood and dirt from around his graze. It was obvious that the fibula was broken, so he would probably need an anaesthetic to set the bone and there was no point in torturing him for the hell of it. Whoever examined him could see enough now.
The curtain swished beside her, and she felt a shiver run over her skin. She didn’t need to look to know it wasn’t Jack Lawrence. Gorgeous though he was, his magnetism was strictly limited to Kathleen. This man, though …
‘Mr James? I’m Dr Haddon. I gather you’ve hurt you leg—mind if I have a look?’
‘Be my guest.’
He bent his head over the leg, checked the foot for warmth and sensation, and then tutted quietly. ‘It looks a bit nasty, doesn’t it? I think we need an X-ray first, to assess the extent of the damage, but I’m pretty sure you’ve just broken the bone at the side of your leg—the fibula. You may have damaged some of the bones in your foot as well, but the X-ray will pick that up. Whatever, you’ll need an operation to fix that bone properly, I’m afraid.’
The man sighed heavily. ‘Can’t you just put a plaster on it?’
Patrick shook his head. ‘Sorry. It won’t heal unless we can pull the bone-ends into alignment, and that will need surgery, I’m almost sure.’
‘Damn. I’m supposed to be flying to America tomorrow.’
‘Well, I’m sorry, you won’t be going—not for a good while.’
He swore, softly but fluently. ‘I have to go,’ he repeated.
‘Sorry, old chap, that’s the way it goes,’ Patrick told him calmly.
It didn’t calm him noticeably. ‘I’ve got my mobile phone here—do you mind if I make some calls while I wait?’ he asked, already flicking up the aerial.
‘Be our guest,’ Patrick told him, and, making sure the sides were up on the examination couch, Anna followed him out to fill in the X-ray request forms and get Patrick to authorise them.
Behind them they could hear Mr James’s voice on the phone.
Tallen off the pavement and broken my goddamn leg—what? I said I fell off the bloody pavement!’ he yelled.
Patrick grinned at Anna. Oops. I think our business executive’s heading for a mid-life crisis,’ he said softly, and she chuckled despite her intentions to have nothing to do with him.
He followed her into the office, perched on the edge of the desk so that his lean, well-muscled thigh was just inches from her hand, and watched as she made a total foul up of the first form.
‘Damn,’ she muttered, and, screwing it up, she lobbed it towards the bin and missed.
‘Calm down. You’re getting like Alan James.’
She snorted, but tackled the next form slowly. ‘There—could you sign, please?’
His hands were fascinating—tanned, the backs lightly scattered with dark hair, the fingers strong and straight. She forced herself to look at the ring on his left hand, to remind herself that he was married.
That was when she saw the scar, a jagged white line that ran from thumb to wrist. She found herself touching it before she knew what she was doing.
‘What happened?’ she asked.
He glanced at it dismissively. ‘I don’t know. I was helping at an earthquake, pulling rubble off the remains of a school.’
‘An earthquake?’
‘Mmm. Here, he can go through now.’
She took the form, clearly dismissed, and went and wheeled Mr James through to X-ray, trying not to let idle curiosity distract her from her job. Except that earthquakes in this country were rarer than hen’s teeth …
Mr James was still on the phone. Grudgingly he put it down and subsided to a steady grumble for the X-ray. Sure enough, it was a clean fracture of the fibula with no other damage to the foot, but it would need plating to draw it back into alignment.
As she wheeled him back to the cubicle Nick Davidson, the orthopaedic SR on take, appeared and walked towards them with a grin.
‘Is this my patient?’
‘Yup—here are the plates, and this is Mr James.’
Nick introduced himself and shook the man’s hand. ‘My name’s Davidson. I’m the orthopaedic surgeon who’s going to be fixing this. Shall we have a look?’
He thrust the plates up into the light-box and grunted, then pointed to the broken ends of the bone, explaining to Mr James what he was going to do. ‘When did you last eat?’
‘Last night.’
‘No breakfast?’
‘I never have time.’
‘Good—this once. When did you drink last?’
‘Coffee at eight before I left home.’
Nick glanced at his watch. ‘Nine thirty-five. OK, we’ll take you up to the ward and prep you, and I’ll tack you on the end of my list. You’ll go to Theatre just before lunch, OK?’
‘If it’s really necessary,’ he grumbled.
‘It’s really necessary.’
He snorted. ‘I’ve got more calls to make—can I have a private room?’
‘Only if there’s a single room free at the time. Ask the staff on the ward.’
He left, and Mr James stared after him. ‘Is that it?’
Anna was astonished. ‘What did you want him to say?’
‘I want to know when I’ll be up and about—when can I leave hospital?’
She stuck her head out of the curtains and called after Nick. ‘Mr James wants to know when he can leave hospital.’
Nick turned, walking backwards down the corridor as he spoke. ‘Whenever he feels ready,’ he called back. ‘I suspect about a week. Then he’ll need two weeks at least with it up, and another week or two slowly mobilising. Five to six before he’s walking regularly with crutches. And no, he can’t fly tomorrow.’
She went back into the cubicle. ‘Did you hear that?’
