by Risk, Mona
Doctor’s Orders
Contemporary Romance
by
Mona Risk
License Notes.
All rights reserved. No part of these publications may be used, reproduced, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
These books are work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Babies in the Bargain: Kindle Edition, Copyrighted February 2012 - Mona Risk.
Right Name, Wrong Man - Kindle Edition, Copyrighted November 2011 - Mona Risk.
No More Lies - Kindle Edition, Copyrighted October 2011 - Mona Risk.
Praise:
“Mona Risk writes heroes with heart, heroines with spunk, in stories and settings that are simply unforgettable.” Roxanne St. Claire, NY Best Selling author.
“Mona Risk knows how to pull a reader into the minds of her well-crafted characters. Her work takes us on a journey be it local or overseas.” Night Owl Reviews.
“Ms Risk has created beautifully written, well rounded, realistic characters.” Got Romance!
“Ms. Risk is a very talented writer who gives the reader what they are after. I can't wait to read more of Ms. Risk's work in the future.” The Long and the Short of It Reviews
BEST ROMANCE NOVEL at Preditors & Editors Readers Poll.
BEST CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE NOVEL at Readers Favorite.
Praise for Babies in the Bargain...
Readers Favorite. “This is Mona Risk at her best. The story will bring tears of both sadness and joy. The characters are easy to relate to. The plot is excellent.”
Joyfully Reviewed. “Babies in the Bargain is an old fashioned, tender romance. Romance blooms amidst tragedy in Babies in the Bargain. It tugs heart strings and stirs emotions.”
The Long and the Short of It Reviews. Best Book of the Week. “Babies in the Bargain was just amazing! This one will keep you on your toes and make you beg for more.”
Romance Junkies. “Babies in the Bargain is one novel that pulls you into the story and holds you captive to the last page.”
Night Owl Romance. TOP PICK. “Babies in the Bargain is a sweet and sexy medical romance that will have you cooing and awing while also shedding a few tears.”
WRDF Review. “Enjoyable from beginning to end, Babies in the Bargain sports believable characters, an ultra romantic story line, and a thoroughly satisfying ending.”
Got Romance! “This story is both heartwarming and heart wrenching.”
CHAPTER ONE
“Twin delivery. C-section. Stat.” Dr. Halsdale, the old obstetrician, bellowed. “Ready?”
Being the senior fellow in Neonatology, Dr. Holly Collier was always ready for a difficult task.
But she wasn’t ready to face Marc Suarez one more time.
Eyeing the imposing back of the anesthesiologist, Holly chewed on her lip, a queasy feeling simmering in her stomach. In med school, falling for the athletic Marc had spread like a virus, resulting in an epidemic that no vaccination could eradicate. Holly had been contaminated too, seven years ago.
The bright Puerto Rican resident had obviously fulfilled his professors’ expectations. He was back at Washington Children’s Hospital as a big-league doctor now and he’d already rattled the hospital’s serenity and her own comfort in the last five weeks.
As usual Marc dominated the scene with his hundred-and-eighty pounds of well-distributed charm and his rugged confidence.
“Twenty-eight-year-old patient. First pregnancy. Thirty-five-week gestation,” Dr. Halsdale said, his eyes scanning his team. One of the residents blinked, his fingers trembling. Holly smiled with sympathy. She’d been there. Dr. Halsdale had once scared the bejeebers out of her, too.
She turned on the two radiant warmers for the expected preemies. The delivery room bustled with a flurry of activity. Doctors and nurses in surgical garb and masks huddled around the operating table where the patient lay, moaning. Dressed as a medic, the soon-to-be dad hovered nearby. His shaky fingers clutching a video camera, he bent and kissed his wife’s forehead.
A few feet away, Marc raised his masked face. His chocolate eyes sparkling with golden flecks, he winked at Holly and resumed his task with unperturbed assurance.
Under the mask, Holly’s mouth fell open. Marc had made it a disturbing habit to wink at her before starting his procedures. A good-luck sign, he’d called it while smiling his infectious grin.
“I’m doing an epidural,” Marc said to the patient, as he helped her turn to a lateral position. After a sterile prep and draping, he numbed the skin of her back. His hands steady, he injected the anesthetics and narcotics via the catheter. “Done,” he said a moment later, his striking figure and precise gestures radiating authority.
The man was drop-dead gorgeous and always displayed a cheerful smile. As if he didn’t have a single worry in his life.
Maybe he didn’t. Holly suppressed a grimace of disgust as she struggled to control her breathing. Coping with Marc’s presence in the delivery room had doubled the stress of her difficult job.
Resentment pursed Holly’s lips. Three months of crying and almost flunking her medical exams seven years ago had taught her a bitter lesson. One she wasn’t about to forget. But she had no time to dwell on the sizzling emotions only Marc could create in her heart.
“Scrub.” Dr. Halsdale’s gruff order broke the silence. A nurse cleansed the patient’s protruding belly. The pungent smell of antiseptic and alcohol vapors permeated the sterile room. “Scalpel.”
The nurse placed the surgical knife in the obstetrician’s open palm. From her distant position, Holly watched as he made the incision, then pulled a tiny body from its mother’s womb and cut the umbilical cord. “A girl. All yours, Dr. Collier.”
Holly received the blue-tinged newborn in a blanket. After drying her, she suctioned her mouth and nose, and deposited her on a radiant warmer bed to inspect her. As she pumped oxygen into the baby’s lungs, the discoloration gave way to a healthier pink hue.
“Baby B.” The attending surgeon extracted a second little body from the gaping belly. “Another pretty one.”
The young father brushed a tear and sniffled. “Oh, my God, we have two beautiful daughters. Darling, did you hear that?” he said to his exhausted wife.
Holly glanced at the nervous father and smiled. The happiness of the new parents rewarded her efforts more than compliments. “Stacey, switch with me,” Holly said to the nurse. “I have Baby B. Take the vitals on Baby A.”
Raising his head, Marc watched Holly perform the resuscitation procedure on the second preemie. Damn, but she was good. In a matter of minutes, the newborn skin colored a healthy pink.
Marc’s gaze rested on Holly’s curved back and slender neck. He remembered her as a shy student working in the library until the wee hours of the morning, a delicate beauty with huge, greenish-blue eyes and long blond hair. He’d helped her with a couple of difficult questions and wondered if she’d have the tenacity to finish the arduous medical studies.
She did. Brilliantly.
“Done.” She exhaled and straightened. “They should make it.” The nurses dressed the babies in diapers, laid them in incubators, and took them to the NICU.
Dr. Halsdale finished stitching his p
atient and then Marc removed the respiratory tube and replaced it with an oxygen mask. “Take her to Recovery.” The nurses wheeled the trolley out and the young father followed, a wide smile on his face and his eye glued on his camera.
Marc turned toward Holly. “Well done.” He’d sincerely enjoyed her expert performance and wouldn’t hesitate to reinforce a young doctor’s confidence. “Your resuscitation procedure was a pleasure to watch.”
She threw him a glance. A fleeting smile cracked her serious expression.
Good start. She’d given him the cold shoulder since his first day at Washington Children’s Hospital five weeks ago. Maybe she’d be more receptive today. He searched for a neutral topic and stifled a smile. His sister-in-law’s pregnancy. “Thank you for reassuring Lydia. With her family history of miscarriages and early deliveries, she was terrified about the baby.”
“You’re welcome. But it’s between Lydia and me now.”
In other words, she wouldn’t allow him to show his gratitude. Why was she so wary of him? Did he deserve such distrust?
“Well, it’s good to see her relaxed. She and Carlos are celebrating their fifth anniversary tonight.”
“I know. Lydia asked me if she could go out. I said yes. She’s reached thirty weeks. Her baby is viable, even if she delivers at this very moment.”
His brother and sister-in-law had bonded with Holly in a couple of visits, while he was still struggling to have an amicable conversation with her. His jaw tensed as he wondered how to pierce through the icy sheath she’d wrapped around herself.
“I’d better get going.” She peeled off her gloves, mask and cap, and tossed them into a wastebasket. Her hair pulled in a ponytail emphasized her smooth forehead and lovely, straight nose. She was more attractive now, more challenging, and she’d lost her innocent look of the sweet girl who expected too many promises too soon.
Everyone knew back then he didn’t do fidelity or commitment. But an unforgettable night, followed by several more had changed his outlook on life. The impossible hope had sprouted that maybe he and Holly...
The family scandal in San Juan had smothered his dreams under an avalanche of responsibilities. Yet, while strolling along the Puerto Rican seashore, he’d often thought about his lovely Holly, the third-year medical student with turquoise eyes, so similar in color to his Caribbean sea.
Right now, mauve shadows underlined those beautiful eyes. “You must be exhausted.”
She shrugged and walked toward the door. “Probably no more than you are.”
“I’m sure we could both use a strong cup of coffee.”
She shook her head. “No thanks. I’m too tired.”
“I can understand that.” He frowned, assessing her taut features. “When did you start your shift?”
She sighed. “Yesterday morning.”
Marc winced, all too familiar with the barbaric hours of medical training. “And you won’t leave until tonight.” He’d never hesitated to subject the young residents to the strict discipline that had honed his expertise, but her fragile appearance struck a soft chord.
A surge of protectiveness overwhelmed him as he held the door open for her and followed her down the hallway. “How about dinner tomorrow?”
“I can’t. I have to study after work.”
“Maybe a short break and drink at the Mango Bar?” The hospital gang hung out there every Friday. He’d been told Holly used to go when not on call. Except he hadn’t seen her at Mango a single time since he’d started at WCH.
She shook her head. “I can’t afford to waste a minute.”
Marc spread his hands in mock desperation. “No break? Tsk, tsk, that’s not healthy.”
She unlocked the door to her fellow’s room and stepped inside. “The only break I need is a shower and a good nap. See you in Delivery. Whenever.”
Mierda. He was still on her blacklist. “If you change your mind, I’ll be here, sweetie.”
Spinning toward him, she crossed her arms on her chest. “You can drop the ‘sweetie’.” She had her don’t-mess-with-me tone. Dios, she really resented him.
“We’re not in the delivery room, Dr. Collier.” He rubbed his chin, thinking fast. He needed a different approach to get back in her good graces.
“My name is Holly. Feel free to use it.” Her chin rose and her eyes glowed with incandescent green.
He longed to take her in his arms and kiss the irritation out of her system. “If you insist, Holl-lly.” He smiled, hoping to pacify her.
His pager buzzed. Holly’s pager echoed. She picked up her phone, called administration, and then faced him. “An emergency. A bad accident involving a pregnant woman.”
****
Without wasting any time, Holly slipped on clean scrubs and rushed out of her room. Twisting her hair in a bun, she ran along the hallway, the rest of the administrative assistant’s words still ringing in her ears. “Bad accident. OR 3, stat. They’re all there.”
After two incredibly long years of training, Holly always hoped for the best, but she knew better. A night without complications at WCH? Just wishful thinking.
In pre-op, she scrubbed and adjusted her cap and mask. An incongruous silence greeted her in OR 3 where a dozen medics and nurses crammed into the delivery area. Holly’s skin prickled as tension crackled through the air.
She strode toward her station and caught sight of Marc slumped against the wall, his broad shoulders straining the cotton of his scrubs.
For the first time since he’d come back to work at WCH five weeks ago, the dashing doctor looked somber, his eyebrows gathered in a deep scowl and his lips tightened in a thin line.
Wavy black hair curled out of his cap and a surgical mask dangled on his chest. Gone was the devastating smile that brightened his tanned face and melted female hearts.
Marc didn’t tease her with a wink. He didn’t even glance at her when she crossed the room.
A spectator. A grim spectator. His gaze remained glued to the operating table where a pregnant woman lay immobile.
Why wasn’t he involved in the operation?
Holly threw a look at the patient...and the blood drained from her face.
Lydia.
With a deep bruise marking her forehead.
Oh, God, the accident involved Marc’s sister-in-law. Disbelief squeezed Holly’s chest. Celebrating their anniversary had meant so much to Lydia. With a pinch of envy, Holly had wished she too had something to celebrate other than passing exams and graduating.
Poor Lydia. She’d been so worried about the delivery. Reality had hit her worse than her frightful nightmares.
Where was Carlos?
Holly shifted her gaze to Marc and cringed. Goosebumps sprouted on her arms at the grim expression that added years to his beautiful face. It was an answer to her question. She shivered, wishing she could reach for him. Hug him.
Hug him?
Maybe he wouldn’t welcome her hug anyway. Not after she’d recently refused to go out with him and thoroughly avoided him.
Marc’s eyes, darker than usual, were fixed on his sister-in-law, following every move of the medical personnel crowded around the operating table. His throat worked as he swallowed. Hard.
Had Holly been too harsh on him? Unable to forgive and forget?
Regret overshadowed her aloofness. The Hippocratic Oath played in her ears. Do no harm. And her personal ethic resonated in her brain. To help all patients.
Marc wasn’t a patient, but if things went wrong, she just couldn’t ignore his pain, could she?
No, the proud Dr. Suarez would never seek sympathy or help.
Chris Guerlin, the anesthesiologist, studied the heart monitor, the blip-blip-blip resonating in the quiet OR.
“Collapsed lungs.” He had put Lydia on artificial respiration. A tube in her chest forced air to re-inflate her collapsed lungs.
There was no expectant dad, no camera, and no joy in this delivery room. The staff performed with quiet efficiency, like a well-orchestr
ated ballet on a mute screen. Dr. Halsdale opened his hand and the nurses deposited the surgical tools in his palm. For a change, he didn’t say a word before starting the C-section.
It was Guerlin who broke the agonizing silence. “Heart rate dropping. Blood pressure down to 60 over 40. Open the crash cart. Epinephrine,” he ordered.
“Too much blood.” Dr. Halsdale muttered as soon as he cut through the abdomen. “Internal bleeding.”
Holly flipped her gaze toward Marc. His jaw constricted and a muscle twitched at the base of his neck. Her breath trapped in her throat as his suffering punched her straight in the stomach.
Please, God. Save Lydia and the baby. Holly suppressed her tears. Maybe I should have told her to stay home.
It was the wrong time to indulge in emotional confusion. Pull yourself together. They all counted on her. Dr. Halsdale, Marc, Carlos and Lydia. How often had Holly reassured Lydia she’d have a healthy baby?
“A boy,” Dr. Halsdale announced. He cut the umbilical cord. Holly heaved in a deep breath and raised her hands. Time to act on her promise to Lydia. The obstetrician handed her the baby. The infant was limp, slippery and moist from the gray vernix covering him. Holly placed him under the radiant warmer and dried him off.
“No chest movement. Stacey, measure the heart rate while I work on the baby.” Holly suctioned the nose and mouth. “I think he’s breathing. Weakly.”
The nurse pressed the stethoscope on the infant’s belly. “Heart rate, 70.”
“Hand me a resuscitation bag. Keep listening for breath sounds while I bag him.” Holly fixed the cushioned mask over the baby’s face covering the tiny mouth, nose, and tip of the chin, and then squeezed the bag to blow air into the lungs. “What’s the heart rate now?”
“Still 70. Breath sounds louder on right than on left.”
“I’ll intubate.” Holly opened her hand to receive the breathing apparatus. Holding the light to illuminate the infant’s throat, she gently slid the thin silicone tube inside the preemie’s mouth and down his throat. “Heart rate?”
