Книга - Bride for a Single Dad

Bride for a Single Dad
Laura Iding


Dr. Jillian Davis has a painful secret and she is in danger of letting it overwhelm her. Until gorgeous single dad and police officer Alex Monroe enters her life, and shows her how to live again.To Alec, his daughter has been the most important thing in his life–being a father was all that mattered–but now Jillian has stolen his and little Shelby's hearts. So when he finds out about Jillian's secret. Alec doesn't care–he won't let it affect them. He wants Jillian and he knows she's the best mother little Shelby could ever wish for. If only he can make Jillian believe that too…BACHELOR DADS: Single doctors… Single Fathers!









Alec hesitated a moment, and then continued.


“Jillian, we’re having a family barbecue at my parents’ house this weekend—would you be willing to come with us? Me and Shelby?”

She caught her breath, knowing that if she agreed to go there would be no hiding their relationship. This was Alec’s way of including her in the warm embrace of his family. Was she ready for this step?

Yes. Absolutely. “I’d love to.” Jillian realised she’d just taken a gigantic step toward admitting to the world how she felt about him. Doubts instantly assailed her, and she pushed them away with determination.

There was really no reason she couldn’t have it all. A career and a family. A beautiful stepdaughter.

And, most importantly, Alec’s love.




BACHELOR DADS


Single Doctor… Single Father!

At work they are skilled medical professionals, but at home, as soon as they walk in the door, these eligible bachelors are on full-time fatherhood duty!

These devoted dads still find room in their lives for love…

It takes very special women to win the hearts of these dedicated doctors, and a very special kind of caring to make these single fathers full-time husbands!


Laura Iding loved reading as a child, and when she ran out of books she readily made up her own, completing a little detective mini-series when she was twelve. But, despite her aspirations for being an author, her parents insisted she look into a ‘real’ career. So the summer after she turned thirteen she volunteered as a Candy Striper and fell in love with nursing. Now, after twenty years of experience in trauma/critical care, she’s thrilled to combine her career and her hobby into one—writing Medical™ Romances for Mills & Boon®. Laura lives in the northern part of the United States, and spends all her spare time with her two teenage kids (help!), a daughter and a son, and her husband. Enjoy!

Recent titles by the same author:

HIS PREGNANT NURSE

THE DOCTOR’S CHRISTMAS PROPOSAL

THE FLIGHT DOCTOR’S ENGAGEMENT*

THE CONSULTANT’S HOMECOMING

A PERFECT FATHER

THE FLIGHT DOCTOR’S EMERGENCY*

*Air Rescue


Bride for a Single Dad

Laura Iding






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


This book is dedicated to my sister-in-law, Marianne Iding. Thanks for being such a great friend.




CONTENTS


Chapter One (#u1f120229-6a9a-58b7-ada1-fb4427cdd402)

Chapter Two (#u1373b270-26a4-545f-95a2-301aa28ca150)

Chapter Three (#u80763bf1-b921-5ccd-959b-5df0e61cf851)

Chapter Four (#ud90a01d3-e1d4-584d-a5e2-19c14534d709)

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)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)




CHAPTER ONE


DR. JILLIAN DAVIS kept her head high, hopefully portraying a confidence she didn’t feel as she strode through the emergency department at Trinity Medical Center.

“You’re late.” Dr. Wayne Netter, one of her colleagues, glared at her from his arrogant stance behind the arena nurses’ station.

She ignored him, refusing to explain she was late as a result of her MRI scan being delayed. Her personal problems were none of his business. Impervious to his glare, she eyed the list of patients written on the whiteboard. “I see we have a full house.”

“There’s a couple of trauma victims on the way in,” Luanne, the charge nurse, piped up. “Multiple gunshot wounds. ETA less than two minutes.”

“Maybe I should stick around, in case you need help.” Wayne Netter suffered from delusions of grandeur, acting as if he was the backbone of the emergency department, which was why he could barely tolerate knowing Jillian had been chosen for the role of interim medical director over him.

She raised a brow. “Sure, if you like. Although it’s Friday night, and I wouldn’t want to hold up your plans.”

Wayne’s gaze narrowed and she imagined he was already internally debating with himself. Was it more important she believe he had big plans on a Friday night or that she needed his dubious expertise for two simultaneous traumas?

Decisions, decisions. She fought a smile, especially when Luanne comically rolled her eyes from behind Wayne’s back. Neither one of them particularly cared for the guy.

Clearing her throat, she turned her attention to Luanne. “Any other patient-care issues I need to know about?”

“Nope.” Luanne shot a quick glance at Dr. Netter and belatedly Jillian realized Wayne might take her innocent remark as something derogatory. She stifled a sigh as Luanne hastened to assure her, “Everything’s fine. The hospital beds are still pretty full and we have a few patients waiting on discharges upstairs.”

“Great. I’ll head over to the trauma room, then.” Jillian walked away, feeling Wayne’s piercing gaze boring into her back. To make a bad situation worse, she’d also once turned down his offer to go out for dinner, and he’d been impossible to deal with ever since. He just couldn’t believe she wasn’t interested. Of course, he didn’t realize she hadn’t dated a lot of guys in her lifetime. At first because her mother had been ill and later because she just hadn’t found anyone interesting enough.

Wayne did not even come close to tempting her. When he didn’t follow, she figured he’d decided not to stick around after all.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she focused her attention on the ED nurses and techs scurrying around to prepare the rooms for the incoming traumas. Sirens wailed from the ambulance bay and in moments the double doors burst open, spewing chaos into the room.

“John Doe number one, approximately sixteen years old with a gunshot wound to the belly, normal saline running wide open through two anticubital peripheral lines.” A paramedic called out pertinent information as the patient was wheeled into the first trauma bay.

“John Doe number two, approximately the same age at sixteen, was shot in the chest. We intubated him in the field but his vitals are deteriorating rapidly. Fluids going wide open through two peripheral antecubital IVs.”

Of the two, the chest wound was by far the more serious and required immediate attention. Jillian raised her voice. “Call for a cardiovascular surgery consult, stat.”

“We already did, when the call about a gunshot wound to the chest first came in,” Bonnie, one of the trauma nurses, quickly explained. “They were finishing up in surgery and planned to send a surgeon down.”

“I don’t see anyone yet. Call them again,” Jillian ordered.

Another nurse picked up the phone to send a second page.

“Blood pressure barely 70 systolic and heart rate irregular and tachy at 120,” Bonnie called out. “Looks like he may be trying to go into a wide complex rhythm.”

Jillian wasn’t surprised to see one of the paramedics kneeling on the gurney beside the second victim, keeping pressure on the chest wound. As the nurses fell into their respective roles on each side of the gurney, she donned sterile gloves and moved closer to examine the severity of the wound.

“Thanks, I have it now.” She waved a hand, indicating he could let up on the wound. A flash of silver on a badge caught her eye and belatedly she realized the man holding pressure wasn’t a paramedic at all but a cop.

He released pressure and immediately blood pooled in the center of the young man’s chest. The cop slammed his hands back down, covering the gaping wound and leaning his weight over the area. “Dammit, he’s going to bleed to death before the surgeon gets here.”

Jillian couldn’t argue—the brief glimpse she’d had of the injury told her it was bad. She snapped out orders. “I want four units of O-negative blood running through both IVs for a total of eight units, using the rapid infuser. Get this kid’s blood pressure up before we lose him. I also want a portable suction unit here so I can examine this wound.”

Marianne, another nurse, wheeled over a suction unit. Grabbing a pack of sterile gauze off the instrument table, Jillian turned back to the patient. She glanced up at the cop, registering a flash of recognition as she met his intense dark green eyes. “Let up on the wound again and this time stay off.”

His expression grim, he nodded.

When he lifted his hands she shoved the sterile end of the suction catheter into the area to clear most of the blood. Using the gauze to soak up the remaining blood, she examined the wound.

“The bullet must have gone through the pericardial sac and injured his heart.” The injury to the boy’s chest was bad, but he had youth on his side. The young could survive a lot more than your average older adult. “Where’s the surgeon?”

“He’s on the way,” Bonnie responded.

“Blood pressure continuing to drop despite the blood transfusions,” Marianne informed her in a terse tone. “We’ll need to start CPR.”

“Give me another minute.” Jillian continued sucking the blood from the wound, and then carefully packed the area with gauze, hoping to buy the kid a little more time.

“Dr. Raymond from CT surgery is here.”

Finally.

“We lost his pressure!” Marianne cried.

No! Jillian stared at the monitor then glanced down at the boy. “Start CPR.”

The cop still kneeling on the gurney placed his hands over the center of the kid’s chest and began giving chest compressions. Blood continued to seep from the wound. She didn’t waste time telling him to get down—for one thing the strength of his compressions were better than most, and for another, if they didn’t fix the hole in this kid’s heart soon, their efforts would be futile anyway.

“A bullet punctured the pericardial sac and grazed his myocardium.” Jillian quickly gave the surgeon the details. “He’ll need to go to the OR.”

Todd Raymond shook his head as he glanced at the vital signs displayed on the heart monitor. “It’s no use. He won’t make it to the OR, he’s lost too much blood.”

Jillian couldn’t believe his caviler attitude. Was he really going to give up that easily? She held onto her temper with an effort. “Are you telling me you’re not even going to try?”

He shrugged. “What do you want me to do—open his chest here?”

“Get the chest tray, stat!” Jillian knew their efforts might be useless but this was a teenager, for heaven’s sake! Didn’t this child deserve every chance possible? “I’ll give him some sedation.”

When the tray was open and ready, the cop stopped giving compressions and jumped down from the gurney, knowing without being told that his assistance was no longer needed.

The alarm on the monitor overhead went off as the kid’s heart rhythm went straight line without the aid of CPR. Jillian wasn’t a surgeon but she didn’t flinch when Todd drew his scalpel down the center of the boy’s chest, meeting up with the open area left by the bullet.

“Hand me MacMillan forceps,” Todd said as he opened the ribs to inspect the damage to the boy’s heart.

She did as he asked, but at that moment the fingers of her right hand went numb and tingly, causing her to drop them. For a split second her horrified gaze met the cop’s. Good thing the forceps had dropped onto the sterile field. She quickly picked them up again and handed them over.

“His left ventricle is severely damaged,” Todd muttered as he used the forceps to trace the path of the bullet. Jillian stuck more gauze into the blood-filled cavity. “The right lung is also a mess—the bullet tore through both the middle and upper lobes.”

“Try open heart massage,” Jillian demanded. “Maybe if we can get his blood circulating long enough to get him on the heart-lung bypass machine…”

Todd Raymond did as she asked and massaged the heart, coaxing it back to some semblance of normal function, but even as they all stared at the straight line where the heart rhythm should have been on the monitor, she knew it was too late.

“It’s over.” Todd removed his hands from the kid’s chest and turned away. “I’m sorry. But with the injuries he’d sustained, his chance of survival was less than five percent.”

He wasn’t a percentage, he was a child! She wanted to scream, rant and rave at the tragic death but held herself in check. This boy wasn’t the first patient she’d lost and unfortunately she doubted he’d be the last. She opened and closed the fingers of her right hand, trying to shake off the strange sensation. “Thanks for coming down, Todd.”

“Sure.” The surgeon stripped off his bloody gown and gloves, tossed them in the red-trash bag and left.

Jillian forced herself to turn her attention to the team of personnel working over the first victim. She’d left her senior resident in charge, using her expertise on the sicker of the two patients. “How are things going, Jack?”

“Fine. He’s stable. The trauma surgery team is taking him to the OR to repair the damage to his intestines.” Jack Dempsy seemed to have everything under control. As she watched, the surgeons packed up the gurney and wheeled John Doe number one away.

“Good.” At least they hadn’t lost them both. Losing one young man was bad enough.

When she turned back to the first victim, she saw the cop still standing there, staring down at the kid, seemingly unaware of the nurses who were clearing equipment out of the way.

When Marianne moved to pick up the remains of the boy’s bloody shirt and pants, the cop held out his hand. “I’ll take those.”

Marianne glanced at Jillian for confirmation and she nodded, granting her permission. The nurse dropped the bloody clothes in a plastic bag and handed them over. He took the bag absently, staring at the boy, not appearing to be in a huge hurry to leave.

Now that the heat of the emergency was over, she cast through her memory for the cop’s name. Alex? No, Alec. That’s right. Alec Monroe. He’d come in about two months ago with a serious knife wound slashed diagonally across his flank requiring a good twenty-five stitches.

Embarrassed at how she’d remembered his name over the dozens of other patients she’d treated over the past few weeks, she wished she could slink away, especially knowing he’d seen the way she’d dropped the forceps. Did he wonder what was wrong with her? Or had he attributed the action to pure clumsiness?

“Thanks for going above and beyond with him,” Alec said in a low tone, still staring at the dead victim.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t do more.”

He raised his gaze to hers, and her heart fluttered stupidly in her chest when she noticed he’d recognized her as well. His mouth quirked in a half-hearted smile. “Not your fault, Dr. Davis. He had the best doctor in the state as far as I’m concerned.”

She felt her cheeks warm and inwardly cursed her fair skin. The cop had made her blush two months ago, too, teasing her as she’d stitched his wound. He was tall, well over six feet, and wore his chocolate-brown hair long and shaggy. She remembered his body was pure solid muscle. She’d been more aware of him than had been proper when taking care of a patient.

Opening and closing her hand again, she reminded herself to maintain her professionalism. “I hope your wound is all healed…”

“Sure.” His smile disappeared. “I only wish these two kids had tried to settle their dispute with a knife instead of a gun. Then this kid might have had a chance.”

“I know.” She understood what he was saying. Once she would have argued that violence was violence regardless of the weapon of choice, but the crime rate in Milwaukee, Wisconsin had been climbing over the past few years and so had the use of guns. As a result, they’d treated more and more victims of gunshot wounds, many of them fatal.

Like this poor boy.

“Thanks again, Dr. Davis.” Alec flashed a crooked smile.

Call me Jillian, she wanted to say, then realized the urge was inappropriate so she gave a brief nod instead. “You’re welcome.”

Alec turned away, heading for the door. Jillian watched him walk away, hoping she wouldn’t have a reason to see him as a patient in the emergency department any time soon.

Cops like Alec put their lives on the line every day just to protect the innocent. To protect the public. People like her.

She couldn’t imagine a more thankless job.

Or a more dangerous one.

Yet from the little she’d seen of him, between this visit and the previous one where he’d been cut with a knife, he seemed to thrive on his role, throwing his whole heart and soul into his career. Not many cops would have held pressure on a bleeding chest wound like he had.

Jillian shrugged off her troubled thoughts. Tucking her hands into the pockets of her lab coat, she spun on her heel to head back into the arena. No reason to worry about Alec—she had enough problems of her own.

Like how long would she have to wait to hear the results of her MRI?

And did she even want to hear the results?

Her gut instincts shouted no, even though she knew it was better to find out the truth now so she could figure out the potential impact on her career. Her stomach clenched in fear. She knew firsthand, after caring for her mother, just how badly this could affect her future. Although likely not for years yet.

Small comfort.

“Dr. Davis?”

Surprised, she glanced over her shoulder. A deep frown furrowed Alec’s forehead as he strode back toward her.

“Yes?” She pivoted and waited for him to reach her.

“Do you have a minute?” His eyes, the color of jade, mesmerized her.

Her heart thudded in her chest. She should say no because, heaven knew, the arena was full of patients who might need her attention. But she found herself nodding her consent. “Of course. Is something wrong?”

“You could say that. I pulled these out of the kid’s pants pocket.” Alec’s mouth thinned in a grim line as he held the items up for her to see.

“Percocets?” She frowned when she saw the individually wrapped packages of narcotics. “Was he recently hospitalized?”

Alec cocked his head questioningly. “Do medications come individually wrapped like this when you fill a prescription?”

“No.” The implication of what he was telling her hit with the force of a brick. “You’re saying those were stolen? From a hospital or clinic?”

“Yes.” His gaze didn’t waver from hers. “Would you know if anyone around here or anywhere else recently reported missing narcotics?”

Jillian opened her mouth and then closed it again without saying anything. Because the answer was yes.

Less than a week ago, twelve percocet tablets, just like the kind Alec held in his hand, had been discovered missing from the locked narcotic drawer right here in Trinity Medical Center’s ED.




CHAPTER TWO


ALEC’S stomach clenched as he and Dr. Jillian Davis stared at the individually wrapped percocet tablets lying across the palm of his hand. He’d pulled these out of the sixteen-year-old John Doe’s pocket, but for all he knew the kid had been selling them on the street to other kids. Younger ones. He’d found the young victims in Barclay Park after all. The idea of a child, like his six-year-old daughter Shelby, taking drugs of any kind made him feel sick.

“We can’t discuss this here,” Jillian said in a low tone. “Give me a minute to check on the status of our patients in the arena and then we can meet in my office.”

Alec gave a tight nod, trying to remain calm. Thoughts of anything happening to Shelby haunted him. He’d only known about his daughter for the past year, when Shelby’s mother had died and left a letter granting him custody. If he had known about Shelby sooner he would have been a part of her life from the beginning. Still, he was more than grateful he had his daughter now. Shelby had changed him for the better. He was more relaxed now, less intense.

Less lonely.

He and his daughter—the words still gave him a tiny thrill—had grown close over this past year. Seeing kids as victims was doubly hard now. He knew his heightened awareness was due to Shelby. He couldn’t imagine anything happening to his daughter.

Shelby was safe for today, though, in his sister Alaina’s care. Alaina was the sensible sibling in the family. Not the wild Monroe, like he had once been. He trusted his older sister with his life.

Shelby was his life.

Swallowing hard, he closed his hand over the individually wrapped pills and followed Jillian from the trauma room into the arena. He slid the evidence into his pocket and stood off to the side. To take his mind off the seriousness of the situation, he concentrated on watching the pretty doctor in action.

Jillian looked over a clipboard with one of the nurses, no doubt to review each patient’s planned disposition. Alec knew more than he wanted to about how emergency departments functioned. His brother Adam was a doctor and his younger sister Abby was a nurse, and at one point he’d been trained as a medic in the army with thoughts of following a similar career path.

Unfortunately, healing wasn’t his area of expertise.

Maybe that wasn’t entirely true, he amended. He’d helped to heal Shelby’s loss. When she’d first come to live with him she’d cried all the time, the sound of her quiet sobs breaking his heart. Now she hugged him easily and called him “Daddy” without hesitation.

A reluctant smile quirked the edge of his lips.

Maybe Shelby had helped heal him, too.

He fingered the pills in his pocket. Had the fight between the two teenagers been over the drugs? Or a girl? Or something else entirely?

He didn’t know. But either way he couldn’t do anything to bring the kid back, much as he wished he could. Shoving thoughts of the dead boy aside, his gaze followed Jillian’s lithe figure as she entered a patient’s room.

A few moments later she emerged from behind the curtain and returned to the nurses’ station. His gaze lingered on her, the cute way her forehead puckered in a slight frown as she reviewed a patient’s chart. Her serious expression made him wish he could make her laugh. Her hair, a rich chestnut color, was pulled back into a curly ponytail and he wondered how she’d look with her hair down, framing her face.

When he’d been brought into Trinity’s ED after one of his suspects had tried to slice him with a knife, he’d been thankful the pretty doctor had been assigned to take care of him. As she’d tended his wound he’d been hyper-aware of her dainty yet capable hands on his skin. For the first time since Shelby had come to live with him, he’d considered asking a woman out.

Luckily, it had been a fleeting thought. His life was complicated enough, he didn’t need to add another element that might disrupt Shelby’s newfound peace.

He straightened from the wall when Jillian walked toward him. Despite his mini-lecture to himself, his body responded when he caught a whiff of her scent. “Alec? My office is this way.”

She’d remembered his name. Stupid to be flattered, but he was. She led him to a tiny, compact office without so much as an outside window and waved him toward a seat as she settled in behind the modest desk.

Her medical school diplomas were framed and hung in prominent display on the wall behind her head. The reality of her extensive education punched him in the gut. Pretty as she may be, it was obvious Dr. Jillian Davis existed in a world very different from his.

“Could I see those percocets again?” Jillian asked. “I need to check the lot number.”

He dug into his pocket and drew out the evidence. He tossed them onto her desk. “Why? So you can match the lot number to that of the drugs missing from this hospital?”

“Yes, but I’m not sure if hospital administration would approve of me discussing the details with you,” Jillian admitted. She turned over the package and jotted a series of numbers on a pad of paper. “I think it’s best if I get you in touch with our risk management department.”

Alec frowned. He would have preferred to work with Jillian directly. In his experience, once hospital administrators were involved, the lines of communication became far less direct.

He leaned forward, pinning Jillian with a sharp gaze. “Dr. Davis, I really don’t have time to mess around with your hospital administration. First of all, it’s past seven on a Friday night and I’m sure most of the administrative staff has already gone home. If you make me wait until Monday, the trail will be cold. A sixteen-year-old kid died after exchanging gunfire with another, who is right now undergoing surgery. I need to know if these drugs cost this boy his life. Or, even worse, if other innocent kids are in danger.”

She worried her lower lip between her teeth and a shot of desire stirred his groin. Dammit, he needed to stop thinking of the pretty doctor as an attractive woman. He had more important issues to deal with than his sudden awareness of a member of the opposite sex.

Not just any member of the opposite sex. Jillian was a doctor, with years of education and training behind her. He’d admired the way she’d managed the situation in the trauma room, taking charge, confronting the apathy of the surgeon on call.

Which reminded him of the moment when the forceps had dropped from her fingers. Jillian hadn’t seemed like the clumsy type. He wasn’t a doctor, but from where he stood it had looked as if she’d suddenly lost feeling in her fingers.

“There’s six tablets here,” Jillian murmured as she stared down at the percocets. “A week ago, there were twelve tablets of percocets missing from the narcotic cabinet.”

“Twelve?” Alec forced his attention to the facts she was giving him. “So it’s not just a couple of pills here and there?”

Jillian shook her head. “No. The timeframe from when the drugs were restocked until the time they were noticed as missing was almost three hours. At first the nurses thought maybe the pharmacy tech who stocked the drawer had miscounted, but when they questioned him, he was adamant that he hadn’t made a mistake. The nurse who signed off on the tech’s stocking of the drawer also verified the medication was there. A few people went into the machine for medication, but then cancelled their transaction. Management thinks maybe one of those nurses went in to take the pills and didn’t record it, but the nurses swore they didn’t take them and there’s no proof one of them did. For now they’re downloading information from the computer every day, watching for more trends.”

“So the narcotics are locked in a computerized system?” he asked, grabbing that tidbit of information.

“Yes.”

Interesting. He would have loved to see the machine for himself, but first things first. He took a small notebook out of his pocket. “Which nurses canceled their transactions?”

She hesitated. “I really think you should get the information from hospital administration. For all we know, someone may have gotten the password of one of these nurses. They could be innocent.”

“Well, then, I’ll take a list of all the nurses who were working that day.”

Jillian looked apologetic. “The ED nurse manager, Rose Jenkins, gathered all the information together for the risk management department. I don’t have the list, you’ll have to get it from her.” His concern must have shown on her face, because she quickly added, “I’d like to help you, but I really need clearance from hospital administration. There’s usually someone on call.” His nerves tingled when her fingertips brushed against his in the process of handing the percocets back to him. “I just can’t believe this is a coincidence.”

No, he didn’t believe in coincidences either. As Jillian toyed with her pen, his two-way radio let out a squawk. His partner was no doubt trying to figure out what had happened to him.

He spoke quietly into the microphone and then stood. Jillian—no, Dr. Davis, he quickly amended—glanced up at him. “You need to go?”

“I’m afraid so.” He didn’t bother to hide the pang of regret. “Would you mind if I called you tomorrow? Are you working?”

“I’m not working but you can always reach me on my pager, I wear it twenty-four seven.” Jillian rose to her feet and handed him a slim, white business card. “Give me a few hours tomorrow morning to page the administrator on call. I’ll do my best to help you.”

“Great.” He stared at the number on the embossed card, understanding her commitment to her job was as deeply ingrained as his. Was she married? Did she have children, too? For some reason, and not just her ringless fingers, he thought not. “Thanks again, Dr. Davis.” He moved toward the door.

“Alec?” The husky way she said his name sent goose-bumps down his arms.

“Yes?” He turned toward her, steeling himself against the surge of awareness.

“Please, call me Jillian.” Her smile held a note of uncertainty.

Despite his efforts to keep his distance, warmth seeped through his chest at her request. “Pretty name, Jillian.” He couldn’t help grinning when she blushed and he slid her card into his breast pocket. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

He flashed her one last smile, before walking outside to meet his partner. The traitorous part of his body was looking forward to seeing Jillian again.

Work-related or not.

* * *

Jillian got up early as she usually did and went for a three-mile run. At least her legs seemed to be working all right, no signs of weakness there. Afterwards, she paged the hospital administrator on call. All she could do then was wait. After she showered and changed, she stood and stared at her closet, desperately searching for something to wear.

When she realized what she was doing, anticipating Alec’s phone call, she turned away from the dressy clothes and grabbed the pair of comfortable jeans paired with a casual short-sleeved T-shirt she usually wore on her days off.

She probably wouldn’t see Alec anyway, unless the hospital administrator called her back soon. Over an hour had passed and she hadn’t gotten a response yet. Likely, she wasn’t going to be able to help him after all.

Disappointed, she hoped Alec wouldn’t be upset with her. Although why she cared if he was upset or not was beyond her. It wasn’t as if she was going to see him on a regular basis or anything. Would she? Her heart gave an expectant leap until she squashed the sensation with common sense. No, of course not. Their paths wouldn’t likely cross again.

The tingling sensation returned to her fingers. She stopped in her tracks and stared accusingly at her right hand. The numbness and tingling came and went without warning. Her initial doctor’s appointment had been almost six weeks ago. The neurology specialist, Dr. Juran, had ordered a broad-spectrum lab panel, and thankfully the results had come back as normal. When her symptoms hadn’t returned right away, she’d put off scheduling her MRI scan. Until Dr. Juran had called, urging her to get it done.

She’d had the MRI yesterday. She’d called to find out the results and had been told they wouldn’t be available until Monday.

Dr. Juran had been noncommittal when she’d asked him about multiple sclerosis. Her mother had suffered from the auto-immune disorder. In the beginning, Angela Davis hadn’t been slowed down much from her disease. Yet over time she had grown weaker and weaker until finally she hadn’t been able to take care of herself. Since Jillian’s father had died of a heart attack when she’d been in her early twenties, Jillian had been left to be the sole provider of care for her mother, until Angela had finally passed away as well.

Jillian caught her lower lip between her teeth. Dr. Juran had explained MS wasn’t hereditary, so she needed to stop making herself crazy by thinking she had the same disease.

With a choppy sigh she flexed her fingers until the sensation passed. Like the last time, the symptoms didn’t bother her for long. Just enough to make her aware something was wrong.

She tore her gaze from her hand. Obsessing over what she might have wasn’t how she wanted to spend the weekend. She was lucky to have two whole days off. She needed to enjoy them.

And she would. Glancing at her watch, she tried to think of the best way to plan her day, considering all the various errands she had to run.

Maybe she should wait to leave until Alec had called.

Wait a minute, since when had she planned her life around a man?

Not since she’d been sixteen and infatuated with Steven Wade, the quarterback of the football team who hadn’t known the bookworm-school-valedictorian had been alive.

With a determined motion, Jillian swept her purse off the counter, intent on heading outside to her car. The pager at her waist vibrated and, despite herself, she grasped the unit eagerly. The number flashing across the display wasn’t the hospital’s.

As she didn’t have a personal life to speak of, the number had to be Alec’s.

Her heart leaped in her chest. She turned and walked into the kitchen, dropping her purse back on the table. Taking a steadying breath, she picked up her phone and dialed the number.

“Alec Monroe,” he said by way of greeting.

“Hi, Alec. This is Jillian, returning your call.” She cursed the butterflies mating in her stomach. What in the world was wrong with her?

“Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.” His deep voice held a note of warmth, unless she was totally imagining it. “Would you have time to go out for lunch?”

“Lunch?” She stared at the wall calendar and the blank space labeled Saturday, knowing full well she didn’t have other plans. She wanted nothing more than to go, but Alec wouldn’t be happy to hear she couldn’t help him. “I’m sorry, Alec, but I haven’t heard back from anyone in hospital administration yet.”

“That’s all right,” he assured her. “I have something else I want to talk to you about.”

“You do?” Her interest piqued, she quickly gave her consent. “Sure, I’d love to have lunch. Ah, where would you like to meet?”

He hesitated, and she sensed he wanted to argue about meeting at the restaurant, but was pleasantly surprised when he didn’t. “Do you like Italian? We could meet at Giovani’s, say, around eleven-thirty?”

“Giovani’s is perfect. See you then, Alec.”

Jillian hung up the phone, already shaking her head at her own foolishness. She was acting like a goof.

This wasn’t a date. This really wasn’t a date.

Ha! Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she’d figure out a way to believe it.

Alec wanted to ask her about something else. Like what? No doubt he had medical questions of some sort. A few of the men she’d dated in college had seemed to want to know all about various disease processes once they’d known she was a medical student.

She clutched her purse to her chest, feeling the same uncertainty she’d experienced back then, going out on her first date.

The guy had been nice enough, but their relationship hadn’t gone anywhere. In fact, none of the men she’d dated on and off during her college years had evoked deep feelings on her part.

Maybe because none of them had been anything like Alec. Alec was different. He put his life on the line for others, yet oozed masculinity and sensual awareness in a way she’d never experienced before.

She couldn’t deny that his magnetic attraction made her secretly thrilled to be seeing him again.




CHAPTER THREE


ALEC hated working weekends, not appreciating the way the job cut into his personal time with his daughter. He’d debated bringing Shelby along, but then Alaina had mentioned taking the kids to a water park and the excited glint in his daughter’s eye had convinced him it was better for her to go with his sister. Beth, Alaina’s daughter, was close to Shelby’s age and the two of them had become almost inseparable over the past eight months.

The knowledge should have made him feel less guilty about working the weekend, but didn’t.

He arrived at the restaurant early, having finished interviewing the neighbors around the area where the shooting had taken place sooner than he’d thought.

He stood in the shade of the building to wait for Jillian, seeking respite from the hot sun. The hours he’d spent gathering information hadn’t revealed much about why the two boys had begun to fight, but his John Doe number two did have a name.

Richard James Bordan. Known by his friends as Ricky.

The kid had celebrated his sixteenth birthday three weeks earlier. He’d played football and, according to his mother, had had dreams of qualifying for a college scholarship.

Ricky’s mother didn’t have any idea where he might have gotten the drugs. She claimed he’d been a good boy who hadn’t gotten into trouble with the law or skipped school as much as the other kids did. Football had been too important to him.

He could have pointed out that good boys didn’t usually carry guns and percocets but he hadn’t. Because deep down he believed her. Ricky probably was a good kid, who had made the stupid mistake of trying to settle an argument with a gun.

Where Ricky had gotten the gun and the drugs was a complete mystery. Although Ricky’s juvenile record did show he’d once run with a rough crowd.

He glanced up when a sedate blue Chevy Malibu pulled into the parking lot. When Jillian climbed out, his chest tightened and he nearly swallowed his tongue. She was dressed casually, in jeans that appeared to have been molded solely for her long legs and lean backside, paired with a tiny V-necked top that emphasized the high curve of her breasts. In the hospital her long white lab coat and conservative business clothes had given her a professional, hands-off image.

Now, with her hair falling in waves around her shoulders, Jillian looked young. Fresh. Beautiful. And close. Very close.

Well within reach.

“Hi!” Her breathless smile almost sent him to his knees. “I hope you weren’t waiting long?”

He shook his head, trying to convince his lame brain not to fail him, now. He pried his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Not at all.” He pulled the door open for her, somewhat surprised she wasn’t driving something a little more fun and sporty. He could easily see her in a flashy convertible. “I finished up early.”

“I’m hungry,” she confided as they were seated at a cozy table for two. “I’m glad you suggested meeting for lunch.”

“Me, too.” He knew better than to think of a simple sharing of a meal as a date but it was a difficult fact to remember when he wanted nothing more than to kiss her. He pulled his gaze from the temptation of her mouth with an effort. Once seated, they pondered the menus and placed their orders. When they both chose the same Italian dish, she laughed.

He sucked in his breath. She went from beautiful to stunning when she laughed.

It didn’t take much to imagine her smiling and laughing with his family. He came from a loud, noisy clan and he knew his parents and five siblings would love her. He suspected his youngest sister, Abby, especially would get on with Jillian.

Maybe he should invite Jillian to Abby and Nick’s wedding next month?

Or not, as he already had a date. With his daughter.

“I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful about your case, Alec,” she said in a soft, apologetic tone. “But I promise as soon as Monday comes, I’ll make sure you get the list of staff members you requested.”

He shrugged, hiding his disappointment. He appreciated her need to go through proper channels, but it wasn’t easy to hold off on the investigation when kids’ lives were at stake. “That’s all right. I did want to ask you about something kind of related to the case.” He flashed a chagrined smile. “Percocets are pain pills, right?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Can you think of any reason why a sixteen-year-old would have them in his pocket?”

She sat back in her chair, tilted her head and drew her brows together in a small frown. He liked the way she carefully considered his questions, as if they were important. She didn’t just give an easy answer off the top of her head. “Not really, unless he’d recently had surgery, which could be verified on autopsy. If not, I can only assume he planned to sell them, but, from what I hear, percocets don’t have the same street value as other drugs, like oxycodone.”

He raised a brow at her perceptiveness. “You’re right about that. I’ve asked questions and heard the same thing. Still, it’s unusual for kids to have this kind of drug. Our narcotics division has seen more marijuana or crack cocaine or even heroin. Anything but percocets.”

Jillian shivered. “I don’t even like to think about any of those drugs ending up in kids’ hands.”

Yeah, he was totally in sync with her on that one. The image of Shelby’s innocent smile flashed in his mind as he added a heartfelt, “Me either.”

“I guess I lived a pretty sheltered life,” Jillian mused. “I didn’t know much about any of this stuff until I started working in the ED.”

Alec found himself wanting to know more about Jillian Davis. He leaned forward. “Did you grow up here in Milwaukee?”

“Yes.” She shrugged a graceful shoulder. “My parents were older when they had me, and they were a bit over-protective. As they were both college professors, I ended up spending a lot of time in classrooms. Not that I minded. I loved books.”

“So you were good in school.” He could easily see her, studying intently in the library.

“Good enough to be granted a college scholarship.” She paused when the waiter brought their food to the table. “This looks delicious.”

For a few minutes they concentrated on their respective meals. Alec glanced at her, his gaze drawn to her lovely face. She’d mentioned having a sheltered life and he could see how that might be the case. Heck, as far as he was concerned, Jillian shouldn’t have to take care of any victims of drug abuse. He took a bite of his chicken marinara, wishing the ugly side of his job hadn’t touched her. No one liked dealing with criminals at any level. Unfortunately, there was little he could do except continue his investigation and then hand over the details to his boss.

Which reminded him of one more thing. “At some point I’d like to see your medication dispensing machine.”

“Stop by while I’m working and I’ll show it to you,” Jillian offered. “The way the machines work isn’t a big secret and when you get the list from Administration, make sure you ask for the names of the staff members who accessed it during those time frames.”

“I will. Thanks for the tip.” The way Jillian dug into her pasta with gusto made him grin. He could appreciate a woman with a healthy appetite.

She was beautiful. Successful. Financially secure. He hid a grimace. She probably made at least twice as much money per year as he did. She was way out of his league.

So what was he doing here, watching her eat? What was the point of fantasizing about asking her out again? If he had the chance, he’d take her out to a fancy restaurant for a nice, quiet dinner. One where she might agree to invite him to her place afterwards.

The phone at his waist chirped loudly. He glanced at the display, and then flashed Jillian an apologetic smile.

“Excuse me, this is my daughter.” He opened his phone. “Hi, munchkin, what’s up?”

“Daddy!” Shelby shrieked in his ear. “I slid down a water slide and my whole head went underneath the water!”

A moment of panic made him tighten his grip on the phone. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Did you cry?”

“No, silly.” To his relief she giggled. “I just held my breath. I didn’t like it when water went up my nose, though.”

Swimming lessons, he thought, relaxing one finger at a time from the death-like grip on his phone. Shelby needed swimming lessons, and fast. “You’re supposed to blow air out your nose, so water doesn’t come in.”

“Ew. Gross.” He chuckled, imagining the scrunched expression on her face. “Auntie Alaina is calling me so I have to go, Daddy. I love you.”

His throat tightened. He’d never, ever get tired of hearing her say that. “I love you, too, Shelby. See you later.” He cleared his throat as he snapped his phone shut.

Jillian stared at him, her eyes wide with shocked surprise. Then she pulled herself together, although he noticed her smile was strained. “Your daughter sounds adorable. How old is she?”

“Six. Almost seven.” He tried to think of a way to explain without going into the whole complicated story. “She’s only lived with me for the past year, since her mother died.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Jillian’s expression softened. “That must have been very difficult.”

“Kids are incredibly resilient. Shelby seems to have adjusted fairly well. So have I. We make a pretty good team.”

Jillian glanced away, making him realize he’d given the impression that he wasn’t interested in expanding that team.

A fact he hadn’t meant to state so boldly.

She reached for her water glass but as she lifted it, the stem slipped from her fingers and fell back onto the table. The glass didn’t break, but a little water sloshed over the edge. “I’m such a klutz!” Jillian exclaimed as she leaned over to mop up the mess, avoiding his gaze. “And, actually, Alec, I’m sorry but I need to get going. I have a number of things I need to do today.”

He couldn’t let her go, not like this. Reaching across the table, he caught her hand. “Jillian, wait.”

She froze, staring down at their joined hands. Then she looked up at him, her gaze uncertain. “For what?”

Stroking a thumb over the soft skin of her hand, he held her gaze. “You dropped the forceps in the ED and now this. Jillian, you’re not a klutz. But you certainly seem upset. I hope you don’t mind my asking, but is something wrong?”

There was a long pause, but then she tugged her hand from his. “I honestly don’t know. But, really, I do need to get going. Please, excuse me.” She picked up her purse. “Thanks for lunch, Alec. I hope you hear from the hospital administration soon so you can find the person you’re searching for.”

He watched her walk away, feeling bad about the abrupt way she’d pulled away from him. He also couldn’t help wondering what was wrong. She’d said she didn’t know but, as a physician, she must have an idea.

He signaled for the check, sternly reminding himself that Jillian’s medical problems weren’t any of his concern. His problem was to find the person stealing percocets from the hospital and putting them in the hands of children.

No way was he searching for anything on a personal level. Especially not a potential wife for himself or mother for Shelby.

* * *

Jillian spent the rest of her weekend trying to wrench the image of Alec talking to his daughter out of her head. She had thought him an attractive man before she’d known about his daughter. Yes, it had been a bit of a shock to find out he was a dad, but seeing him in his sensitive caring mode had made trying to pry him out of her mind even harder.

Reading professional medical journals helped to a certain extent, because there was always so much to learn. After a couple of hours, though, her mind drifted back to Alec. Disgusted, she considered calling the ED to see if they needed additional help. Anything was better than sitting around, dwelling on her lack of a personal life.

Especially when the void hadn’t bothered her until now.

When her phone rang early Saturday evening, she was surprised and just a little disappointed when the caller was one of her colleagues, Craig Bartlet.

“Hey, Jillian. Would you do me a favor?”

“Sure.” At the moment she would have agreed to almost anything. “What do you need? Someone to cover your shift?”

“Sort of. Trinity Medical Center and Children’s Memorial Hospital are sponsoring the Festival of the Arts down at the lakefront this weekend. I’m supposed to be volunteering in the first-aid station tomorrow, but my son is sick. Would you mind taking my shift from one to four in the afternoon?”

“Sure.” Helping out in the first-aid station didn’t sound too hard. And besides, she didn’t mind a little volunteer work.

“Thanks a lot, Jillian.” Greg sounded relieved. “I owe you.”

“No, you don’t. It’s not a big deal at all. Just take care of yourself and your son.”

“I will.”

The next day Jillian headed down to the lakefront early, so she could make sure to find a parking spot. The art museum was a beautiful modern white structure overlooking the shores of Lake Michigan. There were various art displays set up along the lakefront and she took a few minutes to browse through works by local artists before heading over to the small trailer with the universal red cross on the front.

There was a man and a woman inside. The guy looked somewhat familiar. He stepped forward. “Hi. Can I help you?”

“Yes. I’m Dr. Jillian Davis, I’m here to cover Craig’s shift.”

“Ah, that explains it. I didn’t think you were Craig.” His green eyes twinkled. “I’m Adam, and my shift is over.” He glanced at the woman. “Mary, would you mind giving Jillian the rundown of how we’re set up?”

“No problem.” The woman smiled at her. “I’m Mary Drover, the person who’s stuck here all day.” She rolled her eyes at Adam when he laughed. “Thanks for helping out. When I’m not here, you can get in touch with me on this two-way radio.”

“Nice meeting you, Jillian. See you later, Mary.” Adam gave them both a little wave as he left the trailer.

Mary spent a few minutes showing her around. The trailer was set up very much like a mini-emergency room.

“All right, I’m going to walk around outside for a while,” Mary told her. “Remember to call me if you need me.”

Jillian nodded. She hadn’t known what to expect from the first-aid station, but alone in the trailer, she looked around and thought maybe she should have brought something to read in order to keep busy.

It turned out her optimism was premature. Within ten minutes she heard a little boy crying and a young mother rushed in, her blouse smeared with blood. “My son Joey fell and hit the back of his head on the pavement.”

“All right, let’s take a look.” Jillian indicated the mother should set Joey, who looked to be about five, on the small exam table. They boy was still crying and she tried to soothe him while she examined the back of his head. “There, now, Joey, it’s all right. I know your head hurts, but you’re fine now.” Luckily the cut was pretty small, but there was some tissue swelling. “I don’t think it needs stitches,” she said to his mother. “But he does have a small lump here and I’d like to apply a cold pack.”

“No stitches? Are you sure? There was so much blood!” The woman held onto the boy, trying to ease his crying.

“Head wounds bleed a lot, but we’ll use the ice first and see how it goes.” Jillian smiled at the boy as his sobs quieted to smaller hiccups. She cracked a cold pack and mixed the chemical contents to activate it before placing it on his head. “There now, you’re so brave. How would you like a lollipop? If your mom says it’s OK,” she amended.

“Sure.” Joey’s mother appeared relieved when her son stopped crying and chose a grape sucker. “Thanks. I’m glad it’s not serious.”

“No, he should be fine.” Jillian wondered if most of the patients she’d see during the afternoon would be children. She didn’t really mind. Sometimes kids came into the Trinity Medical Center’s ED by mistake, instead of going to Children’s Memorial, which was right next door. She wasn’t a pediatrician by trade, but she could handle kids if needed.

Her next patient proved her theory wrong, when a frail elderly lady came in, after nearly fainting in the heat.

Jillian managed to get the woman to drink some Gatorade and assessed her to make sure she wasn’t having some sort of stroke or any other undiagnosed illness. However, after about thirty minutes, the woman seemed much better and Jillian allowed her to leave, although she cautioned her that if she became light-headed again to call 911.

“I will, dear. Thank you.”

The trailer was quiet for another fifteen minutes before her door opened again.

“Jillian!”

She was just as surprised to see Alec, holding a young girl whose heart-shaped face was streaked with tears. “Alec. What’s wrong?”

“Shelby’s arm swelled up from a bee sting.” He set his daughter on the exam table.

“Is she allergic?” Jillian asked, getting another cold pack ready.

“I don’t know.” Alec looked worried. “She’s never been stung by a bee before. I figured we needed to come here just in case she needed some epinephrine.”

Smart thinking on Alec’s part. “Hi, Shelby, my name is Dr. Jillian.” The girl’s sobs had quieted to small sniffles. Gently taking Shelby’s arm, she examined the large reddened area right above her elbow. “Do you remember what happened?”

“A bee kept flying near my soda.” Shelby’s tone indicated she despised the creatures. Jillian put the cold pack over the swollen area, trying to gauge if Shelby was showing other signs of an allergic reaction. Her breathing appeared good. “He wouldn’t go away, then the next thing I knew, my arm burned.”

“And you’re sure you’ve never been stung before?” Jillian asked.

“I’m sure.” Shelby’s head bobbed up and down. Her dark brown hair was the exact shade of Alec’s but the similarities stopped there. Shelby had big brown eyes, not sparkling green ones.

“Alec, the epi-sticks are in that right-hand drawer over there. Maybe grab one, just in case.” Jillian held the cold pack on Shelby’s arm, and Alec crossed over, to find the epi-sticks.

She wrapped a comforting arm around Shelby’s shoulders. The little girl sighed and leaned her head against Jillian, as if the whole traumatic experience had worn her out.

Jillian soothed a hand over Shelby’s hair, catching a whiff of baby shampoo. Alec’s daughter was a cutie.

“What do you think?” Alec asked, his brows pulled together in a frown as he brought over the epi-sticks. “Is she allergic?”

“So far, so good.” She flashed him a reassuring smile. Carefully, so as not to dislodge Shelby from resting against her, Jillian lifted the edge of the cold pack to assess the swelling. The reddened area didn’t look any worse. “I don’t think so, but we’d better keep an eye on it for a little while.” Jillian waved a hand at the lollipops. “Do you mind if she has one?”

“No, I don’t mind.” Alec gave his daughter a curious look. “Shel, what flavor would you like? Cherry or grape?”

Shelby lifted her head from Jillian and pursed her lips. “Cherry.”

“All right, then.” He peeled off the wrapper and handed it to her.

She popped it into her mouth. “Thank you,” she mumbled, her speech garbled from the sucker.

“You’re welcome.” Jillian watched Alec with his daughter and remembered he’d said something about Shelby only living with him for the past year, since her mother’s death. She could only imagine how terrible that must have been for such a young girl.

“Why does the cold make the swelling go down?” Shelby wanted to know.

“Ah, good question.” She tried to think of a non-complicated answer. “When you hurt yourself, your body tries to fix it by sending white blood cells to the area. Which is good, but too much swelling hurts, too.”

Shelby scrunched up her forehead. “Doesn’t the body know better than to send so many white blood cells?”

Jillian had to laugh. “No, not really.” She lifted the corner of the cold pack again, keeping an eye on the clock. “See how much better it looks? The cold makes your veins close up and helps the body stop sending white blood cells to the area that hurts.”

Shelby peered at the sting site in her arm. “It doesn’t hurt very much either.”

The cold pack had probably numbed the area. Jillian glanced at Alec. “You might want to give her some Benadryl tonight, before she goes to bed. The antihistamine will help counteract any bee serum left in her system.”

“Benadryl,” Alec repeated, his brows pulled together in a frown. “I’ll have to buy some.”

Jillian opened drawers to see if there were any samples. When she found a small packet of Benadryl, she handed it over. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He stepped closer to take the medication and his unique musky scent surrounded her. Suddenly, the small trailer seemed even more cramped, as his broad shoulders took up more than a little space. Now that Shelby’s minor emergency was over, Jillian didn’t know what to say.

Small talk had never been easy for her. She was more comfortable with books.

“Do you think we should head home?” Alec asked.

“No!” Shelby protested. “We didn’t get to spend hardly any time in the children’s tent.”

“Children’s tent?” Jillian wasn’t sure what Shelby was talking about.

“I got the tickets to come here today from my brother Adam. He told me they have a children’s tent where the kids can do finger-painting and stuff.”

Adam? She made the connection. “Adam was here as one of the volunteers. I thought he looked familiar.”

“I missed him? Figures.” Alec glanced at Shelby. “Are you sure you want to stay?”

“Yes.” Shelby gave a vigorous nod.

Jillian removed the cold pack, and took one last look at Shelby’s arm. “The swelling has really come down. If you want to stay, it should be all right.”

“All right, then.” Alec glanced at her. “Thanks again, Jillian.” He paused, and then added, “How long are you working?”

“Another hour or so,” she said.

He nodded. “Maybe we’ll see you later.”

“Sure.” Jillian knew he was just being polite.

Shelby happily jumped down from the exam table. “Bye, Dr. Jillian.”

“Bye, Shelby. Have fun in the children’s tent.”

Alec took his daughter’s hand as they left. He was a good father. And why that had suddenly become an attractive trait in a man was beyond her. Alec obviously cherished his daughter and the feeling was mutual.

Her memories of her own father were mostly centered around doing homework. He’d always been willing to help, showing great patience when it had come to her studies. Jillian had been an only child, and her parents had been in their early forties by the time she’d been born. They had viewed education as being highly important. Most of the other kids had had younger, more active parents, but Jillian hadn’t really minded. She’d loved books and once she’d hit high school had fallen in love with science. She’d known then she was destined to become a doctor.

Her choices, sacrifices some would say, had never bothered her before. There was no reason for them to nag at her now. Her career was something she’d worked for. Having a family of her own just hadn’t been a priority. Especially once her mother had gotten sick and her attention had been focused on caring for her mother, rather than her personal life.

Now she couldn’t help but wonder what she’d missed. When Shelby had rested her head against her shoulder, she’d been struck by a flash of tenderness for the motherless girl. Never before had she been so tempted to gather a child into her arms for a big hug.

At the end of her shift, Jillian stepped from the trailer to find Alec and Shelby walking toward her. Alec’s gaze was warm as he acknowledged her with a nod.

“Are you hungry? We were thinking of having barbequed spare ribs for dinner.”

Pleased they’d thought of her, she nodded. “Sounds good.”

They wandered over to where the food vendors were lined up along the edge of the festival grounds. Eating while talking wasn’t easy, although Shelby didn’t seem to have nearly the same problem as she chatted about their activities in the children’s tent.

After they’d finished their impromptu meal, Alec insisted on walking her to her car. With Shelby right there between them, she understood when he didn’t reach for her hand.

“Goodnight, Shelby.’ She smiled at the tired little girl.

“Goodnight, Dr Jillian.” Shelby gave her a beautiful smile, before yawning and rubbing her eyes.

“And, Alec.” Jillian kept her tone light. “Thanks for dinner.”

“Goodnight, Jillian.” Alec’s gaze met hers directly, and a sizzling awareness flashed between them. The glimpse of desire in his eyes convinced her she wasn’t alone in feeling the attraction. “I may stop in to see you tomorrow.”

Really? For a moment hope flared, until he added, “To get the list.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.” He was referring to the list of staff members she’d promised him. Work-related, not pleasure. Jillian unlocked her car and opened the door. “I’m working day shift tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Was that disappointment clouding his eyes? “Then I won’t see you. I’m working second shift.”

It was tempting to promise to work a double shift, just so she could see him. As Alec and Shelby walked away, Jillian couldn’t hide a keen sense of disappointment.

She’d run into Alec today by chance. But once he had his list, her opportunities for seeing him again would dwindle to almost nothing.




CHAPTER FOUR


JILLIAN headed to the hospital bright and early the next morning, despite her restless night. It was all Alec’s fault, she thought, feeling cranky as she walked in. Reliving those precious moments she’d spent with Alec and his daughter had made it impossible to fall asleep.

At least ignoring her fatigue was easier once she began seeing patients. What she loved most about the ED was the wide variety of illnesses and injuries. She was never bored—how could you be when you never knew what your day would bring?

At just before noon, one of the nurses, Susan Green, gestured her over. “Dr. Davis, you need to look at this patient. He’s suffered a pretty severe second-degree burn on his arm.”

“I’ll be right there.” Jillian quickly washed her hands before walking over to see the patient. She picked his clipboard up off the table to glance at his name and his vital signs. “Mr. Perry, my name is Dr. Davis. What happened? How did you burn yourself?”

“I was stupid,” Mr Perry admitted, grimacing when she lifted an edge of the cold towel that had been placed over the burn to gauge the damage. “I was trying to burn some garbage and as it rained the other day, everything in the fire-pit was wet. So I thought I’d use a little lighter fluid…” He sucked in a breath when she lifted the towel all the way off and the air hit the raw skin. “Stupid. There was a small explosion. I dropped and rolled in the grass, then went to stand in a cold shower.”

“Very smart,” she told him. “Exactly the right treatment for a burn.”

“Smart, yeah.” Mr. Perry, a well-built man in his forties, snorted. “Not smart enough to avoid a dangerous short-cut.”

“Maybe not, but this could be worse,” Jillian admitted. The burned area covered almost the entire expanse of his arm between his elbow and his wrist. “You still have hair follicles, which means you won’t need a skin graft. This burn will be painful, but once the area has healed, it shouldn’t leave a scar.”

“Good.” His smile was wan.

She replaced the cool towel. “I’m going to have one of the nurses wash this up and put a dressing over it. We’ll give you some percocets for the pain. You’ll need someone to drive you home, though, if you take the pain medicine here.”

“I’ll hold off on the pain medicine for now. Otherwise I’ll have to call my ex-wife,” Mr. Perry said with a sigh. “She won’t be happy with me.”





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