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Romancing the M.D.
Maureen Smith
Landing an internship at the prestigious Hopewell General hospital is a dream come true for Tamara St. John.She has struggled hard to get where she is and isn't about to risk it all for arrogant doctor Victor Aguilar. Tamara and Victor are constantly locking honrs, but the sinfully seductive doctor is also driving her crazy with desire. Tamara knows that dating a colleague is a recipe for disaster - until one stormy, passion-filled night changes everything. . .
Tamara emerged from the hospital to find Victor sitting astride a gleaming black-and-silver motorcycle. His long legs were covered in dark Levi’s that stretched taut across his strong, muscular thighs.
Her mouth ran dry. “Victor.”
“Hey, beautiful,” he murmured. “Want a ride?”
She wanted a ride all right, but not necessarily the kind he was offering. She’d thought he couldn’t look any sexier than he did in his scrubs, but damn, was she wrong. He looked hot as hell on his Harley, straddling the powerful bike with an innate, dangerous-edged masculinity that sent her hormones into overdrive. She wanted to hop onto the seat with him, thrust her breasts into his face and wrap her legs around his back.
“Let me give you a ride home.”
She swallowed hard, shaking her head. “That’s okay. I can walk.”
“Why walk,” he drawled, “when you can ride?”
Her bones turned to gelatin. “I only live fifteen minutes away.”
“I’ll get you there in five.”
She glanced pointedly at the black helmet dangling from the motorcycle’s handlebar. “You don’t have one of those for me.”
“Actually,” he said, reaching inside a compartment next to the gas tank and producing another helmet, “I do.” He held her gaze. “So let me take you home.”
Tamara wavered, biting her lower lip.
“Get on, cariño.” His voice dropped an octave, going indecently husky. “You know you want to.”
Dear Reader,
I hope you’ve been enjoying the Hopewell General continuity series.
In the third installment, Romancing the M.D., the scandal and drama continue with the story of rival interns Victor and Tamara. These brilliant cardiac surgeons share a sizzling attraction that they have been fighting for months. But even as they find themselves competing for the same research grant, they’re already losing their hearts to each other… .
It was fun for me to revisit Alexandria, Virginia, the setting for the fictitious Hopewell General Hospital. I grew up near Alexandria and worked in that lovely, historic city for three years. Victor and Tamara are about to create their own special memories there … if they don’t kill each other first!
As always, please share your thoughts with me at author@maureen-smith.com.
Until next time, happy reading!
Maureen Smith
Romancing the M.D. Glossary of Spanish Terms
Me importa un carajo—I don’t give a damn
Vete al carajo—Go to hell
Cariño—Sweetheart (term of endearment)
Gracias—Thank you
Muchas gracias—Thank you very much
De nada—You’re welcome
Mierda—Shit
Maldito sea—Damn it
Carajo—Damn it
Pendejo—Jerk
Vámos corre rápido—Let’s go, run fast
Hermanote—affectionate nickname for an older brother (variant of hermano)
Culo—Ass
Muy bonita—Very beautiful
Mijo/mija—My son/my daughter
Papito—Daddy (often used as a Colombian term of endearment for sons)
Tía—Aunt
Apellido—Last name
Mira—Look
Bésame—Kiss me
Te necesito—I need you
Te adoro—I adore you
Te amo—I love you
No puedo vivir sin ti—I can’t live without you
Quiero estar contigo para siempre—I want to be with you forever
Romancing
the M. D.
Maureen
Smith
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Special thanks and acknowledgment
are given to Maureen Smith for her contribution
to the Hopewell General miniseries.
For the men and women everywhere who have devoted their lives to healing others.
My utmost gratitude to Zora Bilicich, who patiently answered
my questions about her native Colombia and provided the
Spanish translations for this book.
A heartfelt thanks to Sylvia Hightower, R.N., my go-to expert on all things medical.
Chapter 1
Dr. Tamara St. John was feeling murderous.
It was too bad she’d taken an oath to do no harm. Otherwise, Victor Aguilar García would be a dead man. A gorgeous one, but a corpse nevertheless.
They squared off in the hallway outside the room of a patient who’d been readmitted to the hospital after developing a postoperative wound infection. The two interns had struck combative poses, hands on hips, lab coats spread open as they argued with each other. Tamara hated that Victor’s six-two frame forced her to angle her head back to meet his flashing gaze, and she hated that the dark blue color of his eyes reminded her of the most beautiful sapphire she’d ever seen.
“You’re not listening to me,” he said, the words gritted through straight white teeth. “Naphtomycin—”
“—is still in the clinical trial stage,” Tamara interrupted sharply. “So that means the jury’s still out on the drug’s safety and effectiveness. Unlike you, I don’t like hedging my bets on a wildcard. I think we need to administer another course of antibiotics—”
“Because that’s been working so well, right?” Victor countered mockingly.
Tamara bristled. “Let’s not forget that this is my patient—”
“—who’s been readmitted twice for a postoperative sternal wound that won’t heal. It’s time to pursue more aggressive treatment options.”
“Naphtomycin isn’t an option,” Tamara said unequivocally.
“Well, it should be.”
“I disagree. Until it’s been approved by the FDA—”
Victor interrupted, “German physicians are already using Naphtomycin on their patients, with proven results.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Tamara said obstinately.
“What do you mean it doesn’t—” He broke off, shaking his head in angry exasperation. “Look, St. John, you have the potential to be a good cardiothoracic surgeon one day, but if you want to be the best, you’re gonna have to start thinking outside the damn box.”
“How dare you?” Tamara hissed furiously. “I don’t need career advice from you! Last I checked, we both graduated from top medical schools, and we’re both finalists for the same research grant—”
“Me importa un carajo!” Victor swore in Spanish, striking his fist against the wall. “Why does everything have to be a damn competition with you? This isn’t about you and your egotistical need to be right—”
“My egotistical need?” Tamara sputtered in outrage.
“What about you? Every decision you make is based on the false assumption that you can never be wrong. You take risks with patients’ lives like you’re rolling dice on a craps table. Don’t you dare lecture me about my ego when you’re the one with the God complex!”
Victor scowled blackly. “I don’t have a—”
“Like hell you don’t!”
He glared at her another moment, then scrubbed his hands over his face and shook his head at the ceiling, as if he were petitioning God for a flood that would sweep her away. He needed a shave and a haircut, Tamara noted irritably, eyeing his stubble-roughened jaw and the thick dark hair that brushed his collar. He always looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, tossed on some clothes and hopped on to his Harley to ride to work. Tamara supposed that the rumpled, sexy look worked for some women. But not her. Everything about the man grated on her damn nerves.
She felt an unwelcome jolt as his strikingly blue eyes suddenly returned to hers. “Look, St. John,” he said in a low, controlled voice, “I don’t have time to stand here arguing with you, and the patient sure as hell can’t afford any more delays in her treatment. Before you rule out administering Naphtomycin, just ask yourself what you would do if Mrs. Gruener were your mother.”
“I wouldn’t endanger her life by giving her a drug that hasn’t even been approved by the FDA!” Tamara snapped.
“How do you know?” Victor shot back. “Until you’re in that situation, you have no idea what measures you’d take to help your mother.”
“I don’t deal in hypotheticals. I deal with hard, cold facts, which is something you seem incapable of—”
“Why am I standing here talking to you?” Victor cut her off. “You’re an intern just like me, so ultimately, it’s not your call whether or not Mrs. Gruener receives Naphtomycin. And thank God for that!”
Tamara’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t dare go over my head.”
“Think I wouldn’t? Let me tell you something. Mrs. Gruener’s recovery is more important than your stubborn need to be right.”
“You think I don’t know that?”
“Sure as hell could have fooled—”
Beep, beep, beep!
The two combatants glanced down at the pagers clipped to their waists. When they saw the familiar code that signaled a crisis requiring all available medical personnel, they turned and rushed downstairs to the emergency room.
They were greeted by pandemonium as several stretchers bearing injured victims were wheeled into the hospital, where a triage had been set up to evaluate the new arrivals. Those who were most seriously injured were already being tended to.
Tamara and Victor hurried over to fellow intern Jaclyn Campbell, who was examining the bloody head wound of a teenager who was moaning in pain.
“What happened?” Tamara asked anxiously.
Jaclyn grimaced. “School bus accident. At least thirty students were on board, not to mention the driver and several other motorists involved in the collision.”
“Shit,” Tamara and Victor swore in unison.
“Let’s go, people!” shouted Dr. Lucien De Winter, the new head of the E.R. at Hopewell General. He strode through the bustling emergency room, calling out authoritatively, “All hands on deck!”
