скачать книгу бесплатно
Dr Drop-Dead Gorgeous
Emily Forbes
Dr Drop–Dead Gorgeous
Emily Forbes
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#u46fb3e27-89cb-5e09-b52f-7cf67b00d384)
Title Page (#uc08553fe-69fd-5ca7-b18b-3ab27c622ab6)
About the Author (#u8e68e81f-a6bb-51b0-895f-ec310f0d5147)
Dedication (#u341be75b-c923-5f2d-b85a-26c3e568c61f)
Chapter One (#u2ecadd13-1925-5a8b-90f5-4c70e52fa9cc)
Chapter Two (#uc51b5268-50bc-52e3-b05f-127432ef2ac3)
Chapter Three (#u23cdeb08-ac10-59bb-a014-af2379777c62)
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)
EMILY FORBES is the pseudonym of two sisters who share both a passion for writing and a life-long love of reading. Beyond books and their families, their interests include cooking (food is a recurring theme in their books!), learning languages, playing the piano and netball, as well as an addiction to travel—armchair travel is fine, but anything involving a plane ticket is better. Home for both is South Australia, where they live three minutes apart with their husbands and four young children. With backgrounds in business administration, law, arts, clinical psychology and physiotherapy they have worked in many areas. This past professional experience adds to their writing in many ways: legal dilemmas, psychological ordeals and business scandals are all intermeshed with the medical settings of their stories. And, since nothing could ever be as delicious as spending their days telling the stories of gorgeous heroes and spirited heroines, they are eternally grateful their mutual dream of writing for a living came true.
They would love you to visit and keep up to date with current news future releases at the Medical
Romance authors’ website at: http://www.medicalromance.com
To my very own Drop-Dead-Gorgeous husband and romantic inspiration, James, and our two gorgeous boys, Ned & Finn—it is the most amazing feeling to have your support and to know how proud you are of my writing.
You are the most precious people in the world to me and this book is for you with my thanks and love.
Chapter One
‘JULIET! Can you hear me? Stay with us, Juliet.’
Maggie woke with a start. She was in strange surroundings, curled up and cramped in an armchair. She rubbed her neck with one hand as she tried to work out where she was. The room came into focus. A drip stand, an overway table, white sheets on a single bed—a hospital room.
She remembered where she was. She was waiting for her sister to come out of Theatre.
She looked around, searching for the person whose voice had woken her. A man’s voice, she was sure of it. He’d been talking loudly but the room was quiet now; she was alone.
Had she been dreaming?
Her heart was thumping in her chest—she put her hand over it, as if she could slow it down. She had been dreaming; she could recall it now. She’d been dreaming about Juliet’s operation. Juliet’s heart had stopped and the doctors had been using cardiac paddles to get it going again. That was what had woken her so abruptly. That was why her heart was racing—it was as though she’d felt the shock of the charge going through her own chest.
Something had gone wrong and she needed to find out what it was.
She jumped out of the chair.
How long had she been sleeping? She checked her watch, quarter past two. Juliet should have been out of Theatre by now. Someone must know something.
Maggie needed information; she needed to know what had happened and she needed to know if Juliet was OK.
She made her way to the nurses’ station. The nurse sitting at the desk was the one who’d come to take Juliet to Theatre. Maggie was relieved there hadn’t been a change of shift yet. She had no time for pleasantries or to explain who she was.
‘Carol, do you know if Juliet is out of Theatre yet?’
The nurse looked up and must have recognised her. ‘I haven’t heard anything. Would you like me to check?’
‘Please. I thought she’d be finished by now.’ Maggie tapped her foot impatiently.
Carol picked up the phone and punched in the extension number, frowning as the call went unanswered. ‘There’s no answer but if they’re busy they don’t always pick up.’
Maggie knew that was true but she immediately wondered what was happening in Theatre or Recovery that would make the phone go unanswered. Was Juliet all right?
‘I’ll try again in a minute and come and find you. Will you wait in Juliet’s room?’ Carol waited for Maggie to nod before returning her attention to her paperwork.
Maggie made a pretence of returning to her sister’s room but there was no way she’d be able to sit and wait. She walked past the door and headed for the lift to take her up to Theatres and Recovery.
She paced around the confines of the lift as it carried her to the top floor. She exited the lift and followed the signs, hurrying along the corridor to the recovery suites and pressing the call button by the door. She pressed it twice before a nurse responded.
Maggie barely waited for the nurse to ask what she wanted before she spoke. ‘I’m Juliet Taylor’s sister. Can you tell me how she is?’
The nurse’s eyes widened and Maggie’s eyes narrowed in response as she tried to work out what was bothering the girl. Was she surprised to find a stranger hovering by the door or was she trying to formulate an answer? Maggie suspected that something had happened and that this nurse didn’t want to be the one to tell her about it.
‘What happened? Is she OK?’
The nurse continued to stand there, mute.
Maggie recognised the nurse’s expression now. Something unexpected had happened in Theatre and Maggie had been right to come barging up here to find out what. Something had happened to Juliet.
There was a flurry of movement behind the nurse. Maggie peered over her shoulder and saw a patient being wheeled into Recovery. She shoved her foot in the doorway to prevent the nurse from closing her out and waited, trying to catch a glimpse of the patient on the barouche. Was it Juliet? She couldn’t relax until she saw her sister with her own eyes.
There was quite a crowd surrounding the bed, fussing about as they connected the patient to various monitors. It was difficult to see who was lying there but as the nurse backed away Maggie had a strong suspicion the patient was Juliet. She wasn’t waiting any longer—somebody must be able to tell her something. She looked around for someone, anyone, who didn’t appear to be busy.
She saw the nurse she’d spoken to approach one of the other theatre staff—a man—and saw her point at the doorway, at Maggie. Maggie focused on her as she directed her comment to the room in general.
‘Excuse me, I’m Juliet Taylor’s sister. Could someone please tell me what’s going on?’
The man looked in her direction, issued what seemed to be instructions to the other staff and started towards her.
There was no hesitation on his part. He walked confidently. He looked as if he was used to being in control; he looked like a man who could avert a disaster.
Something in his walk told Maggie that even if there had been a problem, he’d solved it. He didn’t walk like a man who was about to deliver bad news. Maggie felt herself relax; she could breathe normally again.
‘You’re Juliet’s sister?’
Maggie nodded. ‘I’m Maggie Petersen.’
‘Ben McMahon, Juliet’s plastic surgeon.’ He held out his hand, offering to shake hers. His grip was warm and strong. Comforting, Maggie thought as she put her hand in his and felt her heart stop its crazy hammering and return to its normal rhythm, calmed by this man’s touch.
‘Is she OK?’
‘Yes, she’s going to be fine but there were some complications.’
‘What sort of complications?’ Maggie’s heart skipped a beat and she took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm, willing her heart to beat normally. Juliet had cheated death once before—could she be lucky a second time?
‘Let’s find somewhere to sit down.’ He led her around a corner to a room with several recliner chairs lining the walls. It was obviously used for day-surgery patients but at the moment it was vacant.
Ben waited for her to sit in one recliner, then he sat on the edge of the next one facing her. It looked as though he was trying to work out how to phrase his words gently and Maggie didn’t have the patience for that. ‘I’m a nurse—just tell me what happened.’
He jerked back a little, perhaps surprised by her abruptness, but he recovered quickly and answered Maggie’s question without hesitating. ‘Juliet’s reconstructive surgery went well—I was pleased with that aspect—but as the anaesthetist was about to reverse the anaesthetic Juliet’s blood pressure plummeted. You saw her in recovery—’ he waited for Maggie to nod in assent ‘—so you know she’s pulled through but her heart did stop and we had to resuscitate her.’
Maggie recalled her dream—maybe it hadn’t been as strange as it seemed. Her voice was tight as she forced her next question out. ‘She’s fine now?’
‘We’ll keep a close eye on her, of course, but so far she’s fine.’
‘How long did it take to revive her?’ Maggie needed facts.
‘About ninety seconds.’
Within safe time limits, Maggie knew. ‘What triggered the drop in BP?’ she asked.
‘The anaesthetist suspects it might have been a reaction to the antinausea drug. That’s not uncommon but it’s reassuring to know that in patients who’ve experienced this reaction there have been no long-term after-effects.’
Maggie could hear what Dr McMahon was telling her—Juliet would be fine—but she’d had a sense of unease about this surgery from the beginning and now she wondered what else could go wrong. She hadn’t been convinced that Juliet had needed this surgery but it hadn’t been her decision and there’d been no way of stopping Juliet once she’d made up her mind. That had been the case their whole lives. Juliet didn’t wait for other people to make her decisions. She didn’t leave it up to fate either. Juliet did what Juliet wanted and when.
This operation was a perfect example, Maggie thought. Juliet had been diagnosed with breast cancer twelve months ago. She’d undergone a bilateral mastectomy even though the cancer had been in one breast only. When she found out that, due to a faulty gene, she had a high chance of getting cancer in her other breast she’d very quickly decided to have both removed. Now she had just completed the first step of breast reconstruction. Maggie hadn’t seen the point of a reconstruction but, as Juliet had pointed out, it wasn’t her body, and Juliet had been adamant that was what she was going to do. And now it had nearly killed her.
Maggie had always thought the surgery unnecessary and now it had almost cost Juliet her life. A life she’d fought so desperately to save just twelve months earlier. Maggie sighed, knowing that even this latest drama wouldn’t stop Juliet from going after what she wanted.
‘Are you OK?’
Dr McMahon’s hand on her arm startled Maggie out of her reverie. She’d forgotten she wasn’t alone. She lifted her head. He was looking at her with concern. Worried she was about to collapse too? She was quite OK. The only thing upsetting her equilibrium was Dr McMahon—he was seriously gorgeous and sitting far too close. She just remembered to nod in reply to his question even as she registered that his eyes were the exact same blue as his theatre scrubs.
‘Come with me—I’ll take you in to see for yourself. She’s going to be fine. Trust me.’
And for some reason she couldn’t explain, Maggie did trust this man. This man she’d only just met. Somehow she believed if he said everything would be fine, it would be.
She followed him along the corridor, back to Recovery. His back filled her field of vision. He was more than six foot by a couple of inches, Maggie guessed, solidly built, not fat but fit. He filled out his scrubs nicely—broad shoulders, narrower hips with his trousers tied loosely around them. Maggie was well aware just how unflattering theatre clothes could be but somehow, despite this, he managed to pull off the look. Some people would look good in a sack and Maggie suspected this man was one them. He could be a poster boy for tall, dark and handsome men.
Maggie stayed beside her sister, keeping one eye on the monitors that displayed her blood pressure, heart rate and oxygen levels, and one eye on the gentle rise and fall of the sheets as Juliet breathed in and out. Ben had been telling the truth—Juliet seemed fine. There was nothing for Maggie to do except watch. Watch and think. She thought about the past two years, about what Juliet had been through, but she also thought about Dr Ben McMahon. He’d left Recovery after checking on Juliet’s status but Maggie could very easily recall his turquoise gaze and his calm and confident aura. She was glad he’d been there; she felt reassured.
She stayed until she was sure Juliet was OK, until she was certain she could go home and tell Juliet’s children their mother was fine.
Maggie felt as though she’d barely slept for two nights. She was staying at Juliet’s house to look after the children but they were unsettled and missing their mother and Maggie’s nerves were stretched. She was tired and stressed, worried about her sister’s recovery. Each time she woke during the night she rang the hospital to check on Juliet. Her recovery had been unremarkable and, just as Dr McMahon had predicted, there’d been no more dramas and everything seemed back to normal.
Juliet was expecting to be discharged today. She’d asked Maggie to get to the hospital as early as possible, anticipating going home. She was obviously feeling better—she was certainly pushing to be discharged—but nothing much had ever slowed Juliet down.
Maggie had just managed to get Juliet’s children ready and to school on time before she returned to the hospital. She’d showered but hadn’t had time to wash her hair. She’d pulled it back into a ponytail and thrown on a pair of old jeans and a jumper but no make-up. She thought she probably looked worse than Juliet.
Juliet had been moved out of HDU into a private room after twenty-four hours but she’d spent most of yesterday sleeping and she looked surprisingly good. I do look worse than her, Maggie decided.
She walked over to the bed, leaning over to kiss Juliet’s cheek. ‘Hi. How are you feeling?’
‘A bit tired and sore but otherwise fine, surprisingly enough.’
‘Ready to go home, do you think?’
‘Definitely. I’m just waiting for the surgeon to come and discharge me.’
That would be Ben. Maggie’s heart flip-flopped in her chest. She hadn’t seen him yesterday when she’d visited Juliet, but she didn’t want to admit she’d felt disappointed. ‘Did he explain to you what happened?’
‘They think I had a reaction to the antinausea drug but there don’t seem to be any ongoing problems and they certainly don’t seem to be expecting any,’ Juliet replied.
‘Do you remember anything? Were you scared?’
Juliet shook her head. ‘Not at all. It was the strangest experience though. It was just like I’ve heard people describe it. The light. That floating sensation. How safe you feel. Everything.’ She paused and then continued. ‘Steven was there.’
‘My Steven?’
Juliet nodded.
‘Did you see him?’ Maggie didn’t doubt her sister’s recollection. Maggie was a theatre nurse; she’d heard plenty of these tales before, too many for her to rule them all out as nonsense.
‘No, I couldn’t see anything up there. The light was beautiful but it concealed everything. I could look down, I could see the operating theatre, I could see myself—but I couldn’t see Steven. I just heard him.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He told me it wasn’t my time. He sent me back. Told me my babies needed me.’ Juliet paused. ‘Do I sound crazy?’
