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Doctor And Son
Maggie Kingsley
A previous affair ended badly, but it left Annie with her beloved son. Now Jamie is old enough for day care, and Annie is going back to work – in the gynaecology department of Belfield Infirmary.As a single mom and a junior doctor, Annie has enough to worry about. Having to keep her son a secret at work makes it worse. But she'd be coping just fine if not for the interested, interfering, irresistible Gideon Caldwell. Annie has to work with him, but she can't seem to get him out of her private life…or even out of her head!
What in the world was happening to him? Gideon wondered
Just four weeks ago his life had been ordered, settled. He’d had his work, his career, and that was all he’d wanted, and then a golden-haired girl with large blue eyes had cannoned into him on the hospital staircase, torn his character to shreds, and nothing had been the same.
Because you’re falling in love with her, a little voice whispered at the back of his mind. He crushed the voice down quickly. It wasn’t true—couldn’t be true. He liked his life the way it was. No emotional entanglements, no potential for heartache, and yet…
She was blowing on Jamie’s chips to cool them, and all he could think was how wonderful it would be to turn her head, to capture those lips with his own and taste them.
Sex, he told himself firmly. These thoughts—these feelings—they don’t mean anything except that your hormones have kicked into life.
But it wasn’t just sex, he realized with dismay when Annie laughed at something Jamie had said, then turned to share the joke. Yes, he wanted to hold her, to touch her, but he also knew that he never wanted to let her go.
Dear Reader (#u22337ca9-cbb9-5fb2-804f-64e0d55aa8f6),
I’ve been thinking of writing a book set in Obstetrics and Gynecology for quite a while, but it wasn’t until I’d created the Belfield Infirmary that it all fell into place. The character of Annie came first. I wanted her to be a single mom with a four-year-old son who returns to work not just because she loves being a doctor but because she needs to support herself. She’d be strong, independent and not looking for love, but often it’s when we’re not looking for love that we’re most likely to find it. What kind of man could get through Annie’s defenses, make her realize that she could trust again, love again? He was going to have to be somebody pretty special.
I think Annie found him.
And if you enjoy this story, look out for the second in the series—The Surgeon’s Marriage.
Regards,
Maggie Kingsley
Doctor and Son
Maggie Kingsley
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CONTENTS
Cover (#u9e75755e-da13-5db8-b8b4-d88b558410f7)
Dear Reader (#u7d90c605-7159-5746-abf5-fcf71eec37dd)
Title Page (#ue4c89e80-6f8b-5d01-84ff-d2f2d64f1224)
CHAPTER ONE (#u1004a885-1dae-5aa5-b3c5-c6bdfa317164)
CHAPTER TWO (#uece80e5a-d9ea-5a4e-9b8c-4df6c3570714)
CHAPTER THREE (#u794b9e84-9126-5ce5-9cff-54d29595b0a7)
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 (#u22337ca9-cbb9-5fb2-804f-64e0d55aa8f6)
ANNIE was going to be late. Very late.
‘Take the lift to the fifth floor,’ the porter had said. ‘Turn right when you get out, then left, then right again, and Obs and Gynae is through the double doors at the end of the corridor.’
It had sounded so easy—so simple—and it probably would have been if the Belfield Infirmary’s ancient elevator buttons had been working properly, and if what they’d proclaimed to be the fifth floor hadn’t, in fact, turned out to be the third.
I am not going to cry, Annie told herself as she hurried down yet another of the Belfield’s rambling Victorian corridors in a desperate search for the stairs. Grown-up women of twenty-eight didn’t cry. Jamie hadn’t cried this morning when she’d left him at the day-care centre, and he was only four.
‘You will remember to come back for me, Mummy?’ was all he’d said, his blue eyes huge in his little face, his small nose reddened by the cold January wind. ‘You won’t forget?’
And she’d been the one who’d got all choked up, and now she was on the verge of tears all over again because she was late. Late for the first job she’d had since Jamie was born, and if she messed it up she was never going to get another one.
‘It’s full time, you know, Dr Hart,’ the head of administration at the Belfield Infirmary had said, gazing at her uncertainly. ‘And your shifts won’t always be eight until four. There may be some night work, some afternoon shifts…Look, I guess what I’m trying to say is, you have a young child. Are you sure you’re up to it?’
And Annie had said of course she was up to it—had even gone out and bought two of the most modern medical manuals to make doubly sure she was up to it—and now everything had gone wrong, and she hadn’t even started.
‘Whoa, there, where’s the fire?’ a deep male voice protested as she raced out of the door marked STAIRS and cannoned straight into him.
‘I’m sorry—so sorry,’ she gasped, temporarily winded. ‘But I should have been in Obstetrics and Gynaecology ten minutes ago, and—’
‘Hey, calm down,’ the man interrupted, amusement plain in his voice. ‘So you’re late. It’s hardly a hanging offence, is it?’
Which was all very well for him to say, she decided, prising her nose out of his rough tweed jacket and looking up. Nothing and no one would ever frighten this man. He was big—seriously big. OK, so at five feet six she wasn’t exactly a giant herself, but this man had to be six feet five at least.
‘Please—you’ll have to excuse me,’ she exclaimed, trying to sidestep him without success, ‘but it’s my first day on the ward, and I’m supposed to report to a Dr Dunwoody—’
‘You work in Obs and Gynae?’ he interrupted, his forehead pleating into a sudden frown.
‘As from today I do.’ She nodded. ‘I’m the department’s new junior doctor.’
‘Oh, I see.’ His frown cleared. ‘Well, I wouldn’t worry too much about Woody. She might seem a bit brusque on the surface, but underneath she’s a real pussy cat.’
Yeah, right, Annie thought with a sinking heart. In her experience people described as pussy cats invariably turned out to be tigers, and people with nicknames always did. The last specialist registrar she’d worked under had been a classic. Jet-black hair pulled back into a tight bun and a tongue which could blister paint. And Dr Dunwoody sounded exactly the same. Wonderful. Just wonderful.
‘Look, you’ve obviously got yourself in a bit of a state so why don’t I show you the way?’ the man continued, as though he’d read her mind.
‘No, really—there’s no need,’ she protested. ‘Now I’ve found the stairs—’
‘It’s no trouble,’ he insisted. ‘As it happens, I’m going that way myself.’
Probably to visit his wife, she decided as he began taking the stairs two at a time. He wasn’t wearing any hospital identification badge, but he was wearing a wedding ring, so he’d probably come in to visit his wife before he started work. He looked like the kind of man who’d do something like that. A nice man. A kind man. The sort of man you could trust.
Oh, really? her mind whispered as she hurried to catch up with him. And since when did you get to be such an expert on men? You couldn’t tell a louse from a knight in shining armour four years ago so what makes you think you’re any better at it now?
Because a louse would never wear such an ancient tweed jacket, or a shirt with a button missing, she argued back. He’d wear something to impress, and this man clearly didn’t want—or feel the need—to impress anyone.
‘It’s very kind of you to help me,’ she said.
He threw her a smile. ‘Nonsense. The Belfield’s a regular rabbits’ warren, and I’d hate to think of you wandering around it for days.’
She would have done, too, she realised as she followed him through yet another door and up more stairs. The hospital she’d trained in had been brand-new, with colour-coded directions to the various departments, but the Belfield…
‘Where did you do your training?’ the man asked, mirroring her thoughts yet again with uncanny accuracy.
‘At the Manchester Infirmary, but this is my first post since I came back to Glasgow four years ago. That’s why I’m a bit nervous. Four years is a long time to be out of medicine, you see, and I’m just hoping I can cope, and…’
Why am I telling him this? she wondered, biting off the rest of what she’d been about to say. She’d made it her business ever since she’d come home not to make friends, not to let anyone get too close, and yet just because this big man was smiling down at her she was telling him things about herself. Things he had no right—or need—to know.
‘Are we almost there?’ she said quickly. ‘Only—’
‘You’re late. So you keep saying.’ He pushed open the door beside him and stood back. ‘There you go. Obstetrics and Gynaecology.’
It was, too, and she held out her hand with relief. ‘Thanks for your help. I really appreciate it.’
‘Hey, rescuing damsels in distress is my speciality.’ He grinned, and when her own lips curved in response he nodded approvingly. ‘That’s better. Now you don’t look quite so much like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car.’
‘It’s how I feel this morning, believe me,’ she admitted, but when she tried to extricate her hand he held onto it, his face suddenly concerned.
‘Look, if you have any problems with your work—want to talk to somebody about it—I’m a very good listener.’
He looked as though he would be. Not a handsome man. No way was he a handsome man. Late thirties, she guessed, with a shock of ordinary brown hair and a pair of equally unremarkable brown eyes, but he had a nice face, and an even nicer smile.
‘It’s kind of you to offer, but I’m sure I’ll be fine,’ she said.
‘I mean it,’ he insisted. ‘Starting a new job—it’s often very stressful—and if you’re worried about people overhearing us, there’s lots of restaurants and pubs near the hospital where we could go and be quite private.’
Where we could be private.
A wave of disappointment coursed through her as she stared up at him. Nick had known lots of private places, too. He’d taken her to quite a few before he’d finally told her he was married but was getting a divorce. And she’d believed him. Believed every word. Well, she might have been a sap four years ago, but she wasn’t a sap any more.
‘I don’t think so,’ she said coldly, pulling her hand free.
‘It would be no trouble,’ the man declared. ‘In fact, I’d be only too happy to help.’
Nick had said that, too, she remembered, her disappointment giving way to anger.
What was it with married men nowadays? Even this man she’d thought nice, kind. Just because she’d been grateful for his help he’d seen it as an invitation to something else. A quiet lunch for two in some out-of-the-way restaurant. A quiet lunch he undoubtedly hoped would lead to something a whole lot more interesting.
Well, he could go take a running jump. Him with his frank, open face, tatty tweed jacket and shirt with one button missing. He could go take a running jump, preferably right off the top of the Kingston Bridge.
‘Won’t you be too busy, taking care of your wife?’ she snapped.
That rattled him. She could see it from the way his jaw dropped.
‘My wife?’
‘Yes, your wife. Remember her—the poor woman you promised to love and to cherish? Well, I suggest you go practice your listening skills on her, mister, because this girl’s not buying.’
And before he could reply she’d pushed past him and walked through the doors marked OBSTETRICS AND GYNAECOLOGY, deliberately letting them bang shut behind her.
The nerve of the man—the sheer, unmitigated nerve. At least Nick had been smart enough to remove his wedding ring so she hadn’t known he was married before she’d fallen in love with him, but this man…He wasn’t simply a louse, he was stupid as well.
‘Can I help you at all?’
A plump, red-headed girl wearing a sister’s uniform was gazing at her curiously, and Annie managed to dredge up a smile. ‘I’m Annie Hart—’
‘Oh, thank goodness,’ the girl exclaimed. ‘Woody’s been spitting nails, thinking you weren’t going to show up.’
‘It was the lift buttons. They said I’d reached the fifth floor—’
‘Never mind about that now,’ the girl interrupted. ‘Just stow your gear in the staffroom and get yourself onto the ward fast. Tom and Helen are due any minute, and if Gideon arrives, too, the fat really will be in the fire. Not that he’s an ogre or anything, but he’s a stickler about ward rounds and we’re way behind already.’
‘But—’
‘I’m Liz, by the way,’ the girl added with a harassed smile. ‘Sister Liz Baker. Welcome aboard.’
And I’m all at sea, Annie thought as the girl shot off down the corridor.
Tom—Helen—Gideon? Who were these people and, more importantly, where was the staffroom? She could see a door labelled SLUICE ROOM, another marked TOILETS—
‘Dr Hart, I presume, and only twenty minutes late. I suppose I should be grateful you decided to show up at all.’
Annie’s heart sank as she saw a tall, slender woman advancing towards her. Dr Dunwoody. OK, so the hair pulled back into a tight bun was auburn instead of black, and she couldn’t have been any more than thirty-five, but those cold grey eyes, the tight, pursed lips…Yup. She’d bet her first month’s pay cheque this was Dr Dunwoody.
‘I’m sorry I’m late, Dr Dunwoody, but—’
‘Spare me the excuses, Dr Hart. All I’m interested in now you’ve finally got here is whether you actually know anything about medicine.’
This was a pussy cat? No way was this a pussy cat. This was a full-grown tigress, and each and every one of her claws were showing.
‘Dr Dunwoody—’
‘The staffroom is over there. Please, hang up your coat and get yourself out on the ward so we can see if you’ve been worth the wait.’
