Playboy Doctor
Heartthrob Heroes
Book Two
by
Kimberly Llewellyn
Bestselling Author
Published by ePublishing Works!
www.epublishingworks.com
ISBN: 978-1-61417-424-0
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Copyright 2013 Kimberly Llewellyn. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.
Copyedited by Nora Tamada
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Acknowledgments
I tend to have two kinds of friends... writer friends and medical friends. I am so thankful for both. Special thanks goes out to Carol Poelker, RN, Pediatric ER; Elizabeth Panduro, RN, BS; and Jackie Jones, Nurse Practitioner, Surgical First Assist.
Chapter 1
One more hour until the end of the shift. Willow Brady approached the pediatric ER desk, collapsed into a chair, and released a long overdue sigh. The rush of young patients had subsided for the time being. She took advantage of the momentary lull by pulling a chart to review her RN notes and catch up on her documenting.
The evening's most notable patients so far had suffered a broken arm, a bad fall resulting in a goose egg on the head, and a chewable vitamin lodged in a toddler's nose. Oh, and acute appendicitis treated with an urgent appendectomy. Just an average night here in the ER at the Pediatric Building of Baycoast Memorial Hospital.
The evening was passing quickly and Willow liked it that way. Coming in to work tonight proved a better option than spending another restless night at her bungalow. Alone. On her birthday. Her eyes darted to her watch. Midnight would come soon and she'd survive this birthday unscathed.
When she felt a tap on her shoulder, she turned to see Emmy, her friend and fellow nurse from pediatric ICU.
"What are you doing here? You're still supposed to be on vacation for your birthday, visiting your family up in New England."
Willow blew out a gusty breath. "What can I say? I missed good old Florida."
Emmy cocked a suspicious eyebrow. "Missing Florida in late August? It's the hottest spot in the entire United States right now. Not to mention all the thundershowers. Seriously, tell me why you came back early."
Willow groaned. "I flew back early because I couldn't face the inevitable with my family."
"The inevitable?"
"Listening to my mom and aunties and old college friends remind me that with another birthday behind me, I should be in some new relationship by now... or at least dating. As of today, I'm twenty-six. Is that really considered old?"
Emmy scoffed. "Not at all. You're getting a little older so your family wants to push you into your next big thing. All families do it, trust me."
Older? So that's her new label. Willow slumped her shoulders.
"Anyway, happy birthday," Emmy said. "And don't let your family drive you crazy. I've got to go. I was just on my way to the cafeteria when I saw you over here moping."
"I'm not moping."
"Mmm-hmm." Emmy pursed her lips. "Either way, I'm sure everyone's glad to have you back. You're great with kids—and their parents. After working here, you'll definitely be ready when you have kids of your own."
Willow froze. Kids of her own. No matter how many times the subject came up, the truth of the matter still managed to sting.
"Oh, I don't know..." Willow ignored the forlorn twist of her heart.
When Emmy's warm eyes turned inquisitive, Willow needed to cover the heartache fast. She simply didn't want to go there.
"Right, of course, kids. Someday," she quickly amended, and then feigned a reassuring smile despite the big fat lie.
Emmy, apparently satisfied with Willow's change of disposition, whisked off, leaving Willow to contend with the heart-wrenching truth.
No. She'd never have children of her own.
As a pediatric ER nurse, part of her job included soothing distraught children and their frantic parents. Another part included working side by side with medical staff, which she'd been doing well since coming to Baycoast Memorial six months ago.
But her job did not include having to disclose why she could never have children, not even to a friend like Emmy. The pain of it was simply too fresh.
It took three miscarriages to diagnose MTHFR, the rare genetic defect responsible for her plight. The blood clotting disorder would keep her from her dream of having babies. By the third pregnancy, which she'd lost in the second trimester, her now-ex-husband had had enough and walked. More like sprinted.
But it was his reasoning—what he'd ultimately confessed to her—that truly broke her heart and sent her into an emotional tailspin. That fateful night, almost a year ago, she'd not only lost a third baby, she also lost her marriage.
The thud of quick footsteps cracking against the linoleum floor broke her unsettling thoughts.
Willow rose and rounded the desk to see what new storm was brewing. She looked down the corridor. The sight before her made her breath catch.
A man dressed in a tuxedo came at her with a determined stride. He had to be at least six feet in height with a commanding posture and Hollywood good looks. Thick, dark locks of hair winnowed in his wake. Even darker eyes met hers. Hooded, soulful eyes framed in unfairly long, black lashes. As he closed in on her, a muscle twitched in his chiseled jaw.
Willow's blood rushed and she had to keep from letting her own jaw fall open in awe while she marveled at the glorious sight of him.
The cardboard box he carried, however, made a strange juxtaposition to the strikingly handsome vision.
Willow sized up the situation as she tried to reign in her rampant heartbeat. The man looked like a male model. Or perhaps an actor. His muscles strained against the black fabric of the tuxedo while he gripped that box. He extended his arms toward her as if presenting her with a wonderful gift.
And he was doing it today. On her birthday.
Had her family hired a singing telegram about to belt out a tune? Or perhaps her friends sent a male stripper to cheer her up.
Either way, she couldn't allow it to happen, not on her watch.
The man opened his mouth to say—or sing—something, but Willow raised her hand to stop him in his tracks.
"Oh, no, you don't. You are not singing or dancing here, no matter who let you in. Celebrating my birthday in the middle of the pediatric ER is completely inappropriate."
She crossed her arms and stood defiantly.
The man's exotic features dimmed to a frustrated glare. His gaze flitted momentarily to her name tag.
"Willow, is it?
" he asked in a smoldering British accent.
"Yes," she challenged with a determined tilt of her chin.
"Willow, if you'll stop carrying on for just a moment and look here..." He tilted the opened box and showed her its contents.
Willow peered inside and gasped. "That's a baby!"
"Yes, a baby. Perhaps you can do your job and save the little tyke's life."
* * *
Dr. Shayne Edwards had no recourse but to be firm with the pretty young nurse. After all, a baby's survival was at stake. It didn't help that when he'd first approached, he found himself staring into the most arresting blue eyes he'd ever seen.
He wasn't immune to such beauty, but he had to keep his wits about him. It proved tough since he'd awoken at the crack of dawn, spent the day in surgery, and ultimately attended a fundraiser event this evening.
Just when he thought he'd made it back to the flat to climb out of this monkey suit and hit the mattress hard, he'd found the abandoned baby in a carton on his doorstep.
A quick exam had indicated the newborn to be a boy; his coloring, pale. Shayne had noted the pallor in the dim light illuminating his front door. But the infant's lethargy gave him the greatest concern; he simply didn't cry. He would have examined the baby inside his place if he could have found his keys, which had mysteriously gone missing. His inability to get to his medical equipment had rendered him helpless.
He never dreamed he'd be directing his limousine driver to take him to the ER pronto, although the facility was in walking distance. He'd kept the baby inside the carton for safety, although no injury presented itself. Nevertheless, he worried about the little guy needing urgent care.
The short drive barely gave him time to fathom why someone had left a newborn with him. What kind of person could have left a baby on a doorstep so late into the night? And why him? He'd only been in the country a week on this visit. He couldn't imagine someone knowing him well enough to abandon a baby to him. Then again, could this have been a completely random act?
While he believed he'd have kids of his own one day, a baby left on his doorstep was not what he'd had in mind. Not that a wife and kids were in his future any time soon... not after what happened in London.
He'd come close to marrying a woman who'd slipped in and out of his life over the years. Given his circumstances at the time, he was able to see his future as a husband and family man—only to have the illusion shattered. He had crossed the Atlantic Ocean from London for a teaching appointment at this university hospital in Florida, yet no amount of distance could keep the haunting memories at bay.
But right now, Shayne had to focus on one tiny patient in a box that he presented to the nurse with the distracting blue eyes.
The nurse peeked up from under her fringe of long lashes. She nodded in understanding and her pleasant expression went into all-business mode.
"Let's get that baby a room. Follow me." She took the lead and without hesitation, Shayne followed her past the reception desk overrun with teddy bears, and then past an empty gurney and unused IV stand. He focused on the nurse's trim backside as he maneuvered safely around the medical obstacle course.
"So why do you have a baby in a box?" she asked over her shoulder.
"I came home early from an event and I found him on my doorstep. There was no note. Nothing."
"Someone left an infant in a box at your front door?"
"It looks that way and I am quite sure he doesn't belong in a box."
"And you're the father?"
"No," he snapped. "Nothing could be further from the truth. I would never shirk such a responsibility. I'm a clinical instructor here at the residency program for the semester."
The nurse glanced down at the name that had been handwritten in marker on the flap of the box. "Dr. Edwards?" she asked, the lilt in her voice rising. "That's you? You're Dr. Shayne Edwards?"
"So it seems."
She quickened her pace and led him into a purple exam room with a large, cheery rainbow painted on one wall. Without missing a beat, she pulled her stethoscope wrapped in bright orange ribbon from around her slender neck and laid it across his shoulders. As if on instinct, she took hold of the box and held it low to allow Shayne to reach in and gently take hold of the infant. He loosely wrapped the small blanket that lined the box around the infant to keep him safe and secure.
As he raised him up, the infant let out a small cry. Finally. The best sound he'd heard all night. Although weak, a good sign. He lowered the infant to the exam table. From the corner of his eye, he saw Willow set the box down and immediately return to his side. He grew keenly aware of her nearness and sensed her concern for the tyke.
Before he could even ask, she presented him with a small penlight. He inspected the baby's eyes and ears. Looked clear. The little guy appeared to have a healthy weight and measurements. His breathing? Slow. In the brighter light of the room, he noted the faint blue coloring around the baby's mouth.
"Subtle cyanosis, right here." He pointed along the edge of the baby's lips to show Willow, a habit from teaching.
"Yes, Doctor." As if on cue, Willow set up the oxygen for the blow-by, and then returned to his side.
Suddenly, the baby puckered in a desperate attempt to try and catch his breath. While the symptoms could be any number of conditions, this cyanotic newborn had all the makings of a baby enduring some form of pulmonary duress and suddenly struggled to fight for his life. As a pediatric surgeon, Shayne had seen it plenty of times before. Each time he'd witnessed a struggling child, his raw nerve endings fired off in response.
"This looks to be more complicated than just stress. Hopefully it's just mild pulmonary stenosis that might resolve on its own. But we can't rule out anything more serious."
"A septal defect, maybe," Willow offered as she stepped in to get more oxygen to the patient. Moments later, the struggling infant thankfully calmed. "There, there, sweetie," Willow whispered.
The baby's head turned just so, as if to search for the soft feminine voice. Shayne marveled at the infant's sudden, unexpected strength. He also marveled at how Willow had such an effect on their patient. There was more to this nurse that went beyond the physical. She possessed a rare magical quality when it came to instinct, whether assisting him or pacifying the tiny baby.
With the crisis past, he said, "He'll have to be watched to make sure there is no obstruction to flow."
He pulled the stethoscope from around his shoulders and used it to listen to the tiny chest. The moment the small round diaphragm touched the baby's tender skin, he squirmed and winced. But no further cry.
"I know it's a bit cool, little fellow," he offered in a soothing tone. Anything to let the baby know he was safe.
As Shayne got to work, he caught the worried stare of the nurse. He was used to the scrutiny, but this was different. He gave her a reassuring wink. "The good news is he doesn't appear to be a crack baby."
Willow blinked in relief and her slender shoulders sloped as if she could finally relax at his assessment.
He continued to listen intently to the baby's chest. There. A faint but definite whoosh, but he couldn't be sure of the cause. Possibly a heart murmur or worse, Tetralogy of Fallot, which would be a four-pronged problem if it came to that. But it was still too early to tell.
He told Willow what he'd detected, and then ordered maintenance fluids and a blood test. Any elevation in the red blood cell count and hemoglobin would reveal more.
"We'll keep him here for observation before admitting him to the pediatric ICU. He can't be introduced to the other newborns in the nursery. Can't risk respiratory infection. Meanwhile, have them do a chest X-ray and an echo."
Willow pulled out the palm device from her pocket and promptly recorded his orders. Shayne knew ER nurses here were the most highly skilled under dire circumstances. He'd witnessed such nurses in action at the A&E hospitals in the UK and saw the same in Willow as her nimble fingers tapped away on the handheld technology. He also noticed the lack o
f a wedding band on her left ring finger. Why he noticed, he didn't have time to explore.
Minutes later and confident the baby had stabilized for the time being, Shayne turned to Willow. "I'd like you to keep a close eye on him. Only time will tell if we're dealing with a mild defect, if he needs surgical repair, or worst case, a heart transplant."
Chapter 2
A heart transplant?
Willow stared into the dark-as-chocolate eyes of Dr. Edwards as she let the sobering words sink in. She knew that a surgeon like Dr. Edwards had operated on hearts as small as a strawberry, but surgery always came with its share of danger and risk. Not to mention lifelong medical care as a transplant recipient.
She made a mental note to get the contact information for LifeLink to arrange for the baby to be placed on the waiting list, if needed. Of course, a heart transplant affected two lives. The patient's life and that of the tiny donor, usually a victim of a car accident, drowning, or even shaken baby. Her heart constricted at the thought. She could imagine too well the pain of the parents who'd lost a child, a pain all too familiar. But she had to stay strong. She couldn't let the rush of her own emotional angst interfere with saving the abandoned baby's life. She swallowed hard and continued with her work for the sake of the patient.
She laid a gentle palm to the infant's head. "It's all going to be okay," she cooed.
As she caressed the infant, she watched the doctor continue examining the child, touching him with a remarkable gentleness as he checked for any bone break or sign of pain. This baby was in good hands with Dr. Edwards. She knew that from the moment she'd first heard the command in his tone. She couldn't mistake the years of experience behind this man.
But he looked truly worried about this baby. She couldn't rule out if he'd had some connection to the infant since it was rare for a surgeon to show such sensitivity. Then again, he was out of the usual scrubs. Perhaps the tuxedo allowed his humanity to shine through. And she noticed. Boy how she noticed. She hadn't seen such depth of concern in a man's expression in a long time.
Playboy Doctor (Heartthrob Heroes, Book 2) Page 1
