скачать книгу бесплатно
‘Do you have any other questions?’ Ramón asked.
‘Not right now,’ Mandy said.
‘Then I’ll leave you with your son.’
To his surprise, Sister Jacobs followed him. ‘I wondered if we could have a quick word in my office, Dr Martinez?’
She was very formal with him, he noticed—and yet she’d used first names with Stephen’s parents. The smile had gone, too. Ramón had a feeling he was just about to find out what had upset Sister Jennifer Jacobs. ‘Of course,’ he said politely, and walked with her to her office.
‘Do sit down,’ she said, indicating a seat next to her desk and closing the door behind them.
‘What’s the problem?’ he asked.
‘You.’
He blinked. ‘What?’
‘Lizzy Bowers. You bawled her out in front of Stephen’s parents and made her cry.’
He gave a short laugh of disbelief. ‘She was dropping things everywhere. When I asked her a question, she couldn’t answer because she hadn’t been listening to what I was saying. And I will not tolerate sloppy nursing, particularly with young children who have just come round from a general anaesthetic and whose parents are worried sick.’
‘Lizzy’s my best student—she’s in her final year, she’s passed her exams so far with flying colours and she’s very far from sloppy. And I, Dr Martínez, will not tolerate any doctor bullying my staff. You owe her an apology.’
Her voice was quiet and controlled—and absolutely implacable. This was a woman who didn’t need to shout to make her point.
But he had a point, too. A good one. He folded his arms. ‘Sister Jacobs, perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. My patient comes first. And I expect any nurse on this ward to be competent.’
‘Lizzy is perfectly competent.’
‘Not from what I saw.’
‘At the moment she’s a little sensitive.’ Jennifer bit her lip. ‘Look, this isn’t common knowledge on the ward, so I trust you will keep what I tell you confidential?’
She’d phrased it as a question but he knew it wasn’t a request. He nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Her aunt has breast cancer. They’re waiting for a biopsy result to see whether it’s spread to the lymph nodes.’
‘And Lizzy’s close to this aunt?’ Ramón guessed.
‘Her aunt brought her up. So it’s more like a mother-daughter bond.’
Ramón nodded. ‘I didn’t know about her family problems. But my patients must come first. If she can’t concentrate on her job, she should take some time off.’
‘Keeping busy is the best thing you can do while you’re waiting for news.’
‘Not when it puts my patients at risk.’
‘Lizzy is a perfectly competent nurse,’ she repeated. ‘If you have an issue with her work, by all means talk to her about it—but in private. Not in front of patients, or their parents, or other staff. I expect my nurses to be treated with respect, as the professionals they are.’
Professional. That was it—the word he’d been looking for. Jennifer Jacobs was professional in the extreme. And he had a sudden wild urge to find out what she was really like. To find out what made her laugh. How her eyes would look in passion—would they turn blue or grey? What did she look like when she’d just been thoroughly kissed?
‘Dr Martínez?’
‘My name is Ramón.’
Melted chocolate. Oh, no. Jennifer wished Meg hadn’t said that. Because she had the most graphic vision of Ramón feeding her rich, dark chocolate, piece by piece, teasing her by stroking it over her mouth and moving it out of reach so she had to reach up for it. And then he’d reach down to kiss her, and—
No way was she going to call him Ramón. It was too close, too intimate, too… ‘Dr Martínez,’ she repeated, her mouth dry.
He gave her a quizzical look, and she only hoped he couldn’t read her mind. How could she tell him off for unprofessional behaviour when her own thoughts were even less professional?
‘Sister Jacobs,’ he said softly, ‘we’ve got off to a bad start.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll apologise to Nurse Bowers. But I’d like you to have a word with her, explain that if she doesn’t feel up to the job then she should take time off so the patients aren’t affected.’
‘I’ve already done that.’
‘I see.’ He folded his arms. ‘Then perhaps we can start again. I prefer to work with first names. You’re Jennifer, yes?’
She twisted the ring on her finger. Remember Andrew. Remember Andrew. ‘Yes.’ The word was virtually torn from her. She wanted to stay Sister Jacobs to this man. Aloof, remote, untouchable. Or even JJ, the nickname everyone else in the hospital used. But not Jennifer. It was too personal. Too dangerous.
‘And I’m Ramón.’ He stood up and gave her a formal bow. ‘I trust we shall work well together on my secondment to the Bradley Memorial Hospital.’
‘Brad’s.’
He frowned. ‘Brad’s?’
‘That’s what we call it. The hospital.’ Hell. Now she was babbling, and he’d think she was an idiot.
No. It didn’t matter what he thought of her. His opinion wasn’t important.
‘You cared for Stephen Knights the last time he was here?’
She blinked. The question had come out of left field. Or maybe she’d missed whatever he’d said before that. Ramón Martínez had thrown her completely off balance. Frighteningly so, because she’d sworn she’d never let anyone do that to her again. ‘Yes. I met his parents soon after Stephen was born. They came to see Dr Keller about the cheiloplasty—’ the operation to repair a cleft lip ‘—and he explained that Stephen also needed the operation to close the cleft palate, to help his speech and to separate the mouth and nasal cavities.’
‘And you tease all the parents the same way?’
Now she realised where he was coming from. He hadn’t liked the way she’d talked to the Knightses. ‘Each patient is different—and so are their parents. I teach my nurses to build relationships with the parents, to help them deal with what’s happening to their children. Some like to know every single thing that’s happening and to take on as much of the care for the child as they can, some like to joke to take their mind off their worries and some like to know the bare minimum and leave everything to the nurses. Mandy’s a joker and Paul likes to know exactly what to expect.’
He nodded gravely. ‘Now we understand each other.’
No. She didn’t understand him. She didn’t want to understand him. He was just a doctor, someone she had to work with for a little while. And that was the way he was going to stay.
‘I’ll apologise to Lizzy, Jennifer.’
‘Thank you.’ When he continued waiting, in silence, she knew what he was expecting. She forced the word out. ‘Ramón.’ It felt almost unbearably intimate, using his first name.
He gave her another of those formal bows and left her office. Still twisting her wedding ring, Jennifer watched him leave. She had to get her overreaction to this man back under control. And fast. Before it landed her in a heap of trouble she really, really didn’t need.
Ramón stared into his coffee. Nothing added up about Jennifer Jacobs. He’d watched her covertly on the ward and she’d been the perfect nurse. Efficient, caring, kind. Spending time where it was needed. He’d seen her sitting on the side of a child’s bed, soothing away tears, reading stories and chatting while she checked blood pressure and dressings and administered drugs. She never once raised her voice but he’d noticed that everybody always did whatever she asked them, without excuses or delays. She was clearly respected.
But who was she really? She had no family pictures in her office—no husband, no children, no parents, no siblings—and yet she wore a wedding ring. He couldn’t work her out. She wasn’t even his type—he liked fiery, beautiful Latin women, not quiet, unassuming English mice. And he definitely didn’t believe in getting involved with married women. So why couldn’t he get her out of her head?
Particularly when he remembered her sitting on the bed of one small child, holding his hand and stroking his hair and chatting to him until the fear had vanished from the little boy’s face. He’d seen the little boy hug her in relief, seen the warmth in her smile—a warmth he wanted directed his way, too. Yet the minute she became aware of his own presence, a wall seemed to go straight up. Why?
‘Hola, Ramón. Settling in OK?’
He looked up as Neil Burroughs, the paediatric special reg, sat down at his table in a quiet corner of the canteen. ‘Yes, thanks. But your coffee…’ He wrinkled his nose.
‘Try the hot chocolate. Though it’s a bit sweet.’
‘Thanks, but I think I’ll pass,’ Ramón said dryly.
‘So you’ve met everyone on the ward now?’
Ramón nodded. ‘Meg showed me round this morning before I went to Theatre. And then Jennifer took over.’
‘Jennifer?’ Neil looked blank for a moment. ‘Oh, the redoubtable JJ.’
‘Why do you call her JJ?’
‘Her initials—Jennifer Jacobs.’
Ramón rolled his eyes. ‘We do have initials in Spain, mi amigo. No, I meant why call her that when her name’s Jennifer?’
‘We always have.’ Neil shrugged. Then he frowned. ‘You’re not getting any ideas about her, are you?’
‘No. I saw the ring. She’s married.’
‘Widowed,’ Neil corrected.
‘But…’ Ramón stared at him in shock. ‘She’s so young.’
‘She was really young when she was widowed. It happened just before she went into nursing, about ten years back.’
Widowed. Jennifer was a widow. Which meant she was…No. Not free. Which meant he should respect her status. He decided to change the subject—but his mouth had other ideas. ‘You called her “redoubtable”,’ Ramón said.
‘Oh, don’t get me wrong. She’s an excellent nurse, brilliant with the kids and absolutely the best with students—she won’t stand for any nonsense but she’s got endless patience when it comes to explaining things. She’s just a bit…well, remote.’ Neil shrugged. ‘If someone organises a bit of a do, she always makes an excuse not to go.’
‘Maybe she just doesn’t like crowds.’ Maybe she preferred something more intimate. And Ramón thought he’d better change the subject right now before he disgraced himself.
Neil didn’t seem to notice. ‘You’re probably right. She sometimes goes out to the theatre or the cinema with a couple of the other nurses, but she keeps herself to herself.’
Mourning her husband, perhaps? But according to Neil it had been ten years since his death. And Jennifer was still a young woman. It would be a crime to let her stay buried in work, not living life to the full.
Though he really, really shouldn’t get involved. He was only here on secondment. And anyway he had Sofía to think of…
But just before Ramón went to sleep, that night, it was Jennifer’s face he saw. And Jennifer he dreamed about.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_61a7d18b-523e-5577-88ce-7c10ec911318)
RAMÓN tried. He really, really tried to be professional in his dealings with Jennifer. But then he saw her with a small child whose parents had rarely visited. She was sitting in a chair with the child on her lap, reading a story and persuading the child to point out things in the pictures. In her lunch-break, he noted, when she really should have been taking some time out for herself.
She cared about her patients. She cared about her staff. So why didn’t she let anyone care about her?
He should walk away. Not get involved. He knew that would be the sensible thing to do. But ten minutes later, after she’d settled the child back in bed, he rapped on her office door and opened it.
She looked up from her desk. ‘Yes?’
‘May I have a word, please, Jennifer?’
‘Everyone calls me JJ.’
Everyone else might, but he didn’t. He wasn’t going to reduce a beautiful name to initials. She was fiddling with her wedding ring again, he noticed. Did she do that all the time, or was it just when he was around? He closed the door behind him and leaned against it. ‘Have dinner with me tonight, Jennifer.’
Oh, Lord. She’d heard those words before. Years ago. Then she’d said yes—and it had been the start of the worst mistake of her life. She’d learned her lesson in the hardest way. ‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Tall, dark, handsome and arrogant—assuming that, of course, she’d want to go out with him. Little mousy Jennifer, swept off her feet by the first man who’d paid her some attention.
Well, not this time. She didn’t make the same mistake twice. She’d learned a lot from her counselling and she wasn’t going back to being a victim. ‘I don’t want to.’
‘What’s the problem? The time? You’re busy tonight?’
‘What don’t you understand about the word “no”?’ she asked.
‘Your mouth is saying no,’ he said simply, ‘but your eyes are saying something else.’
Damn. He’d noticed. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, Dr Martínez,’ she lied.
‘Ramón,’ he corrected.
‘Ramón.’ It felt as if she were talking through a mouthful of treacle.
‘Why do you have such trouble saying my name?’
Her face heated. ‘I don’t,’ she protested.
‘You do. And not because my name’s Spanish.’
‘I’m sure you already have an opinion.’
He smiled. ‘I do. I think, Jennifer, that there’s something between us. Something you don’t want to acknowledge. And that’s why you have a problem saying my name.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
