Man of Fortune

by Rochelle Alers

  He mentally shifted gears and within seconds he didn’t see DG, friend, but Duncan Gilmore, patient.

  CHAPTER 15

  “Dr. Wolcott, they’re bringing in a three-year-old male with broken arms and head trauma. Step-dad claims the boy was jumping on the top bunk and fell off the bed.”

  Tamara ripped off her latex gloves and slipped on a new pair. “Put the patient in room four and page Dr. Rodney Fox—stat!”

  An intern rushed into the room carrying a small bundle, placing it gently on a stretcher. “Where’s the mother?”

  “He says she’s at work.”

  She didn’t think she would ever get used to treating the tiny patients who came in with broken bones from falling out of cribs or off the chair or down a flight of stairs when their parents were doing other things. The day before a frantic mother had brought in her toddler who’d fallen headfirst into a tub of hot water, sustaining third-degree burns over half the baby’s body. As a doctor she was required to report the incident to the police, and as the child was airlifted to a burn unit at a Bronx hospital the frantic mother was read her rights and led away in handcuffs.

  She’d tired of the excuses: I only looked away for a second. I didn’t shake my baby. Or, name-blame of He did it, she did it.

  Tamara worked quickly, checking the child’s vitals. When she cut the tiny T-shirt off to avoid moving the little boy’s arms, she froze. Bruises, old and fresh, dotted the chest.

  “Oh, my heaven!” a nurse whispered on seeing the bruises.

  “Get a cop in here,” Tamara ordered through clenched teeth. There were police personnel on a floor where prisoners were brought in and detained for medical treatment. The nurse left and seconds later Rodney pushed his way through the interns standing around observing Dr. Wolcott.

  “Who the hell did this?”

  Tamara gave him a warning look. “The boy’s step-father said he fell off the top bunk and hit his head.”

  Rodney had seen that particular look many times before when he was called to examine a child. He turned to a nurse. “Call radiology for a CT scan.”

  Without warning the drape parted and a man reeking of alcohol crowded into the room. His dreadlocked hair was covered with lint and every inch of his muscled arms were covered with tattoos.

  “What’s with my boy?”

  “I’m Dr. Fox and I’m taking your son up to radiology to take pictures of his head and body.”

  Bloodshot eyes wavered between Rodney and Tamara. “You don’t need to take no pictures. Just patch him up and I’ll take him home to his mama.”

  Tamara moved over to distract the obviously distraught man, giving Rodney enough time to take the child up to radiology. “Sir, we have to see if there’s any head trauma before we can treat your son.”

  “Ain’t talking to you, bitch! So stay the hell outta this.”

  Rodney stepped in front of Tamara to shield her from the man who literally had blood in his eyes. “Sir, please. Dr. Wolcott is right. Now, please step aside so I can give your son the medical treatment he needs.”

  The man shuffled to his right, but when he spied two uniformed police officers coming toward them, he lunged at Tamara, his arm tightening around her throat. Despite his state of intoxication he whipped out a knife and hit a button on a switchblade. The point of the blade bit into the soft flesh of Tamara’s neck. A drop of blood appeared.

  Tamara slumped against his muscled body, then righted herself as a rush of adrenaline shocked her system. Her heart kicked into a higher gear when she realized the officers had drawn their weapons.

  “Drop the knife and let her go,” the shorter of the two ordered.

  “Get the baby out of here, Fox.” Tamara issued her own order. She knew the man couldn’t do anything to prevent Rodney from taking the child to be X-rayed as long as he held her hostage.

  * * *

  Duncan arrived at the entrance to the hospital to find it surrounded by police personnel. A female sergeant stopped him. “I’m sorry sir, but you can’t go in now. We have a police situation.”

  He wanted to ask what the police situation was but he knew she wasn’t going to divulge any information. Walking over to where a small crowd had gathered, he sidled up to a woman in a nurse’s uniform who was talking to another woman wearing a lightweight jacket over a pink uniform.

  Duncan’s blood ran cold when he overheard them talking about a hostage situation taking place in the E.R. The nurse’s cell rang, and she answered it.

  “What’s going on inside?” she asked. “No! He has a knife to Dr. Wolcott’s throat threatening to kill her if the police don’t put down their guns,” she told her coworker. “The police have called in a hostage negotiator,” she continued, relaying the information from someone inside the E.R.

  Duncan had heard enough. Walking to the corner, he sat down on the concrete, unmindful of his tailored suit, and rested the back of his head against a traffic box, then he did what he hadn’t done in years—he prayed.

  He wasn’t certain how long he sat on the sidewalk, but when he heard cheering he came to his feet. Rushing back to the entrance, he saw the same female officer. “Sergeant Whalen,” he said, reading her name tag, “I know I can’t go in, but could you get word to Dr. Tamara Wolcott that her fiancé is outside waiting for her.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Duncan Gilmore.”

  The officer gave him a long, searching look. “Callahan, come over here.” A fresh-faced officer who looked as if he’d just graduated the academy approached his superior officer. “I want you to get word to Dr. Wolcott that her fiancé, Duncan Gilmore, is waiting outside for her.”

  “No problem, Sarge.”

  * * *

  It seemed like an eternity though in reality it was two hours later that Duncan saw Dr. Tamara Wolcott walk through the doors and out into the coolness of the early autumn night. It was the first time he’d seen her in scrubs and a lab coat. He saw her look around, then turn to go back into the hospital, and he moved quickly, sprinting across the street.

  “Dr. Wolcott.”

  She turned and looked at him as if he were a stranger. “Duncan.”

  He took a step, bringing them closer, and that’s when he saw it—there was a small white dressing on the right side of her neck. “Baby.”

  She smiled. “Duncan. You came. How did you know?” The news media had just arrived to gather the details of the hostage situation for late-night reporting.

  “I came earlier to see you, but the police wouldn’t let me in. I didn’t know what was going on until I overhead a conversation between a nurse and someone inside the hospital.”

  Tamara’s gaze softened. I love you so much. I’ve missed you so very much. “Why did you want to see me?”

  “I want to tell you about Kali.”

  “You don’t have to, Duncan. It doesn’t matter anymore.”

  “Yes, it does matter, baby. It matters because I love you. I love your very life and if anything had happened to you I don’t know what I would’ve done. Every woman I’ve ever loved I’ve lost. It started with my mother and then with Kali. I want it to end with you, Tamara.”

  “And how is that going to happen?”

  He closed his eyes. “I want to marry you.”

  Tamara felt weak in the knees, fearing she was going to collapse, but she recovered quickly. She’d spent two hours with the blade of a knife to her neck and now Duncan had followed one shock with another by proposing marriage.

  “We’ll have to talk about it, Duncan.”

  A smile curved Duncan’s mouth. He was still in the running—Tamara hadn’t openly rejected his proposal. “When do you want to talk?”

  “Tonight. I was clocking out when the police officer told me you were here. Let me go and change and I’ll be out.”

  * * *

  Tamara and Duncan lay in bed in the East Village apartment, talking quietly as so not to disturb the little dog sandwiched between them. Duchess was beyond spoil
ed. When she saw Duncan she whined incessantly until he picked her up.

  Tamara listened without interrupting as Duncan told her about the sad young woman he’d rescued from an oppressive childhood.

  Even though Kalinda Douglas had lied to him Duncan was willing to forgive her because she so feared losing him. What Tamara had communicated to him was that though she’d feared losing him, she knew she would eventually recover enough to turn the page.

  Duncan traced the gauze bandage on her neck. “Did he cut you?”

  “No. He broke the skin when he pressed the point of the blade too hard. There was just a trickle of blood. It’s true when people say that before you’re going to die your life flashes in front of you.”

  “Did it?”

  “No.” There was a hint of laughter in her voice. “I thought about you. I tried imagining being married to you. Then, when I fantasized about screaming for drugs once I went into labor with our baby I started laughing hysterically. I must have shocked the man holding the knife because when he dropped his arm the police rushed him. They must have gotten in a few punches while trying to subdue him because he needed medical treatment.”

  “Do you really want to be drugged during labor?”

  “Hell, yeah, Duncan. Why play super-heroine?”

  “What if I’m there with you? I promise I’ll keep you calm.”

  “I’ll have to think about it.”

  “Think about what, Tamara?”

  “Whether I’d want you in the labor room with me.”

  “That can only become a possibility if you marry me.”

  Shifting onto her side, Tamara stared into the warm depths of the eyes gazing back at her. “You’re right about that. I remember that you, Kyle and Ivan took an oath that you didn’t want to be baby daddies.”

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t know my father if I passed him on the street, but I can assure you that my children will know their father.”

  “How did we go from a child to children?”

  “Remember, I’m an only child.”

  Running a finger down the length of his nose, Tamara’s mouth replaced her finger when she kissed him. “No, you’re not. You have Ivan and Duncan.”

  “You’re right. They are my brothers.”

  “Ask me again, darling.”

  Duncan stared at Tamara under lowered lids. “Ask you what?” he teased.

  “Ask me to marry you.”

  He took a deep breath, then let it out. “Tamara Wolcott, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her eyes met his, seeing love and her future in the large gold-brown orbs. “Yes, Duncan Gilmore, I will marry you.”

  He leaned over to kiss her, but disturbed Duchess who got up, shook herself then jumped straight for Duncan’s chest. She turned around and around before settling down to go back to sleep.

  “What the…heck!” Tamara sputtered. “I never thought I’d have to share my man and my bed with another female.”

  Throwing back his head, Duncan laughed loudly. “Maybe she needs her own man.”

  “Are you talking about getting another dog?”

  “Why not, baby? After all, we have plenty of room.”

  Tamara thought of the number of rooms in the Chelsea duplex. “True.”

  Then came a beat. “When does your lease expire?” Duncan asked.

  “June. Why?”

  “How would you like to become a June bride?”

  “That sounds good.”

  “Where do you want have the wedding?”

  “I’ve always dreamed of having a wedding aboard a ship. Do you think we can get the Celestial?” Tamara wanted to relive her first date and first kiss with Duncan.

  “I’ll call tomorrow to see if we can reserve one of the private rooms. If they’re booked up then I’ll rent a yacht for the wedding and honeymoon. We can use the ship as our hotel when we sail to different Caribbean islands.”

  Tamara kissed him again. “I like the sound of that.”

  “I thought you would,” he said against her moist, parted lips. “I told that police officer that you were my fiancée. I think it’s time I stopped lying and made it a reality. Let me know when you can get a day off to go shopping for a ring.”

  “I’m off tomorrow.” She touched the bandage on her neck. “Workers’ comp.”

  “How long do you think you can stay out and milk the system?”

  Tamara shrugged a shoulder. “That all depends on my therapist. After all, I did experience emotional trauma and anguish.”

  “Who’s your therapist?”

  “Dr. Ivan Campbell. But he doesn’t know it yet.”

  Duncan laughed at the top of his lungs, and Duchess raised her head to look at him. “Damn, she rolled her eyes at me.”

  “That’s what you get when you have two women in your bed. You have to deal with the fallout.”

  Tamara closed her eyes and said a silent prayer of thanks. She’d never known when she’d found herself trapped in a highrise elevator that the man trapped with her would become a part of her life and her future.

  She was more than fortunate.

  She was blessed.

  * * * * *

  Read on for a sneak peek of

  Dealmaker, Heartbreaker,

  the next book in national bestselling author Rochelle Alers’s

  Wickham Falls Weddings series!

  Big-city Noah Wainwright’s always viewed business as a game. But when he stumbles across bed-and-breakfast owner Viviana Remington, she’s playing by different rules. Rules that bring the love-‘em-and-leave-‘em playboy to his knees, but when Viv learns how the Wainright family plays the game all bets are off…

  CHAPTER 1

  Three months later…

  Noah downshifted and maneuvered onto the road leading to the Wickham Falls Bed and Breakfast. His attitude about spending time in the town had softened appreciably once he completed the renderings for the homes he planned to build in the valley surrounded by age-old trees. The drawings included the retention of much of the natural plant life to blend harmoniously with the existing landscape.

  He’d managed to keep busy since his last trip to the coalmining region with the D.C. project. It was the first time WDG had put up luxury condos in the capital city, and most of the units were sold in the twelve-story hi-rise before completion. It had taken supreme well-power for Noah not to take a side trip to Wickham Falls with the hope that he would run into Viviana because there was something about her that made him less confident than he should have been around women. Even though he’d wanted to ask Giles about her, he decided it was best he not let his cousin know that his interest in Viviana Remington went beyond business.

  Noah was definitely not a novice when it came to interacting with women. Once he graduated college he took what he’d called an unofficial sabbatical from life where he traveled extensively. It had been his time to discover who he was and wanted he wanted from life. And that time he wanted nothing to do with the Wainwright Developers Group.

  He had grown up watching his father, grandfather, and uncles toast one another with champagne whenever they sealed a deal. Although it was an unwritten rule not to discuss their real estate business at the dinner table they didn’t always adhere to it. And when it came time for him to take his place at the table as the next generation of Wainwrights, he rebelled, and found himself spending more time at the family-owned Caribbean resorts than at the Fifth Avenue mansion where he still had a suite of rooms.

  It wasn’t vanity that told Noah that it was his looks, name, or wealth that allowed him to date women of different races and ethnicities, but confidence. Whether subtle or bold, he knew with a single glance whether to approach a woman to let her know that he was interested in her, but that hadn’t happen with Viviana. She’d met his eyes, and then ignored him as if he did not exist. To say she had deflated his confidence was an understatement.

  He had been tempted to ask Giles’s wife Mya about Viviana because she had grow
n up in Wickham Falls, but then changed his mind once he realized he would have to return to the town to await for the town board to approve his building application. And when he’d informed Giles that he was coming to Wickham Falls for an extended stay, Giles had invited him to stay with him, his wife, and toddler daughter, but Noah declined the invitation, preferring instead to live at the bed and breakfast if only to get to know Viviana better.

  Again, Noah was overwhelmed with the natural splendor of the Mountain State. There were tree-covered mountains, lush valleys waterfalls, fast-moving rapids, lakes, rivers and primordial forests which was nirvana for hunters and fishermen. He didn’t hunt, but he did fish. There was nothing more exciting to Noah than fishing off the side of a boat and catching dinner.

  Viviana said she needed to sell the land to make repairs to her home and as Noah drove up the path leading to the magnificent mansion his practiced eye immediately saw the changes. The house sported a new coat of paint; the black shutters framing tall energy-saving windows were also new. When he’d first come to the home the locals called The Falls House, he recognized the design was modeled on Barbados architecture. He’d seen many sea island antebellum homes that were built on raised basements to catch the breeze, but why The Falls House when heat and humidity did not equal those areas further south.

  He slowed to less than five miles an hour when he saw a tall, slender man with a long snow-white ponytail come out of the house with Viviana. With wide eyes, Noah stared at her as she embraced the man before he got into a late-model gray pickup and started the engine. Maneuvering over to the side of the road, he let the man drive past him. Their eyes had met for a millisecond. It had only been a brief glance, yet it was long enough for Noah to surmise he was Viviana’s father. There was something about the man’s features that called to mind her brother Leland.

  * * *

  Viviana smiled when she saw Noah emerged from the racy silver sports car with New York plates. Her first impression that he looked like a surfer was shattered completely with his transformation. The blond hair was fashionably barbered with a side part and heavy waves brushed off his forehead. She knew in a single glance that his charcoal-gray slacks had not come off a rack and his stark-white shirt with a monogram on the left French cuff was also custom-made.