Fling with the Children's Heart Doctor

by Becky Wicks

  “So, you’ve been talking to your dad about me?” Freya said.

  She was surprised at how the thought made her warm inside, a new kind of affection that had nothing to do with any of the things he’d been making her feel since they’d decided to indulge in their heated sexual encounters. A fling felt good...and well deserved. Even if he wanted nothing more, she’d be okay with that, she told herself. Probably... Every time she thought about leaving, she felt torn. It was strange; she’d never felt like this before.

  “I’m surprised he remembers,” Lucas said gruffly. To her shock, he seemed suddenly colder, distant.

  “Is something wrong?”

  His jaw was ticking, and she couldn’t read his guarded face. She had a terrible, unsettling feeling that he was about to retract his mother’s offer to join them for a meal.

  An even more frightening realization hit her next. She would care a lot if he didn’t want her there, and over the past few blissful weeks in his arms, she had decided not to let real feelings get in the way of their fling...

  Dear Reader,

  We meet again, and this time for a soiree in a city I’m proud to call my new home—Amsterdam. I’ve been dying to set a romance here for a while, and Fling with the Children’s Heart Doctor was the perfect opportunity to place my wary heart surgeon and pediatric cardiologist in every romantic situation I could dream up.

  From windmills to canal houses to luxurious houseboats and blue summer skies above my personal favorite park, they get the chance to live the Amsterdam dream outside of their demanding roles in the hospital. But will they fall in love? That’s for you to find out. I hope you enjoy Lucas and Freya’s journey!

  Becky x

  Fling with the Children’s Heart Doctor

  Becky Wicks

  Born in the UK, Becky Wicks has suffered interminable wanderlust from an early age. She’s lived and worked all over the world, from London to Dubai, Sydney, Bali, NYC and Amsterdam. She’s written for the likes of GQ, Hello!, Fabulous and Time Out, and has written a host of YA romance, plus three travel memoirs—Burqalicious, Balilicious and Latinalicious (HarperCollins, Australia). Now she blends travel with romance for Harlequin and loves every minute! Tweet her @bex_wicks and subscribe at beckywicks.com.

  Books by Becky Wicks

  Harlequin Medical Romance

  Tempted by Her Hot-Shot Doc

  From Doctor to Daddy

  Enticed by Her Island Billionaire

  Falling Again for the Animal Whisperer

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  Dedicated to Liz Wicks, my mom, who didn’t have the chance to visit Amsterdam in 2020 because of the pandemic.

  Praise for Becky Wicks

  “Absolutely entertaining, fast-paced and a story I couldn’t put down.... Overall, Ms. Wicks has delivered a wonderful read in this book where the chemistry between this couple was strong; the romance was delightful and special.”

  —Harlequin Junkie on From Doctor to Daddy

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT FROM FALLING FOR THE BROODING DOC BY ANNIE CLAYDON

  CHAPTER ONE

  THE REVAMPED SEVENTEENTH-CENTURY hospital building spanned the length of an entire street, with an old black-brick church at one end and a small tree-lined park at the other. Bicycles took up every spare inch of space outside, chained up almost on top of each other between the sycamore trees. Dr Freya Grey passed a red-haired woman in a staff lanyard and polka-dot jacket, who was jabbering into a phone on the steps outside, and pushed through the double doors to Reception.

  Huge seven- or eight-foot-high red and purple tulips covered the walls. Each had a long green stem that seemed to sprout from floor to ceiling. Impressive paint job, she thought to herself, making for the lifts.

  The Happy Hearts Clinic, where Freya Grey was going to be spending the next six months as the new paediatric cardiologist, was on the top floor of the Anne Frank Children’s Hospital. Shifting her feet on the black-and-white-tiled floor and watching the people milling about, she wondered why on earth she was so nervous. She’d moved from job to job in the US and elsewhere without a backward glance for years and had never felt as much as a flutter in her belly, and the vibe here was a thousand times more serene than any hospital she’d ever seen before.

  Looking back, she hadn’t known anyone at the start of her fellowship at the children’s hospital she’d worked at in Boston. Or when she’d signed up to the mission projects in Cambodia and South Africa. There was nothing more exhilarating than diving head first into a new adventure. Solo ventures weren’t what made her nervous. This move felt different. Despite the six-month contract, which meant she was technically free to move on again at the end of the year, she had history in Amsterdam, both good and bad.

  And from this point on, she had two jobs keeping her here in her childhood stomping ground—this one at the hospital, and the other one renovating the old canal house she’d inherited from her gran, Anouk. She’d never had the pleasure...or torture, it was too soon to tell...of renovating a house before.

  The shiny elevator door slid open. A young child hooked up to an IV in a wheelchair was pushed out carefully by a woman around her age and Freya stepped back with a smile to let them pass.

  ‘Excuse me! Hold the elevator, please!’

  The woman in the polka-dot jacket had finished her phone call and was rushing towards her across the chequered floor tiles. She looked rather flustered as she rammed herself through the doors and let out a huge sigh as they shut behind her. ‘Thanks!’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Freya could read the woman’s lanyard now. ‘Nurse Joy? Oh, you’re at Happy Hearts, too? I’m the new cardiologist, Freya.’

  ‘Oh, hi! Good to meet you. We really need you. You’re from America?’ She must have heard the accent, just as Freya could tell Joy was from somewhere in Ireland.

  ‘I’ve just come from Colorado. I was at the Children’s Hospital in Aurora for a year, but I moved about quite a bit in the US before that. Maybe I picked up an accent from talking to patients and their families all day, but I spent my childhood between here and the UK, actually.’

  Joy still looked flustered. She ran a hand through auburn spirals and shuffled out of her jacket, revealing her pale pink sundress. ‘Getting hot now, right? It’s warmer than it normally is here in June and it’s still only seven a.m.’

  ‘Climate change,’ they muttered in unison, and they both smiled. Freya liked Joy already. It was always good to meet someone you liked on your first day in a new place.

  More tulips greeted her from the walls on the top floor. Three small patients no older than seven were sitting cross-legged in a circle in a designated play space, engrossed in a puzzle. One little girl with a tube in her nose looked up and waved at them, and Freya watched Joy’s face soften as she raised her hand in greetin
g, unwittingly creating a polka dot flag above her head from the jacket.

  ‘She’s the sweetest thing, but unfortunately she spends more time in here than at home, poor Violet,’ she whispered to Freya.

  ‘What’s she in here for?’

  ‘She was born with an Ebstein anomaly and an ASD. It’s a lot but you wouldn’t know it, she has the whole place wrapped around her finger. You should see Lucas with her. She loves him. He’s so great with all the kids.’

  Freya watched Violet from afar, feeling her heart go out to her. She had diagnosed an atrial septal defect in a young boy in South Africa on her last medical mission and she was still in touch with him and his lovely family. She also didn’t miss the almost dreamy sing-song way Joy had mentioned Dr Lucas Van de Berg. The heart surgeon Freya was going to be assisting as diagnostician.

  Lucas was something of a hero. He’d been at the helm of a team that had brought a new transcatheter aortic valve replacement technique to the operating table. It meant they could fix a severely narrowed aortic valve without the need to open up a patient’s chest. It was giving new hope to children who’d normally have a much smaller chance of survival. She’d heard him talking about it on a podcast on the plane over from Denver, which secretly had been an excuse to hear his voice again. She’d found the sound of his Dutch lilt quite intoxicating during their phone interview a week or so before she learned she’d been hired by Happy Hearts.

  ‘I have fifteen minutes till I’m meant to meet Dr Van de Berg. It didn’t take as long to get here as I thought it would on foot.’

  ‘You’re staying nearby? A hotel?’

  ‘I have a house here.’

  Joy looked taken aback. ‘I thought you just came from America?’

  ‘I actually just inherited my gran’s house,’ she explained, but the words from her own mouth brought more uncomfortable memories flooding back. ‘Anyway, do you know where I can wait for Lucas?’

  ‘You could wait here, or you could just come with me to the staffroom. He’ll go there eventually for his coffee. Where’s the house you inherited?’ Joy asked interestedly, leading her through a set of double doors.

  ‘In the Jordaan, it’s across three floors. I forgot how many stairs you had to climb to get to the top. I guess it was more fun as a kid, you know, like climbing a ladder. It’s not as much fun when you have to lug three suitcases up there all by yourself.’

  There it was again, a flutter of discomfort, just remembering the time she’d spent in that house growing up. As the child of a Dutch teenage mother and a wealthy British tax lawyer twenty years her senior, Freya’s childhood had been complicated. Her parents had tried to make it work, living in the UK together, but she’d been taken back to Amsterdam by her mother at two years old, presumably after they’d both had enough. After that, she’d pretty much been raised by her mother’s mother, Anouk, until her dad had stepped in and enrolled her at an elite boarding school back in Surrey, when she was just five years old.

  It wasn’t till her mother had met Stijn and fallen pregnant again with Freya’s half-sister Liv a decade later that Elise Grey had finally learned how to be a responsible parent. Liv had got a proper mother...in fact, she’d got all Freya had ever wanted. By then, though, Freya had already decided her own fate was to keep on moving, wherever her heart might desire, instead of waiting around for someone else to make her happy.

  Liv was trying to call me last night, she remembered guiltily, realising she had zoned half out of Joy’s introduction to the hospital social schemes and in-house school, and the cinema, all of which she’d read about online already. Liv had gone to live in the UK four years ago, to be with her boyfriend.

  ‘You get three cinema passes a month, so you can catch the best movies free,’ Joy explained, leading her off into one of the rooms, which appeared to be some sort of office-slash-staffroom. A worktop above a fridge offered a clutter of mismatched mugs, cutlery and a coffee pot. The wooden polished floor looked original, as did the stained-glass motifs above the huge rectangular windows.

  She watched her new guide hang her jacket and handbag on a coatstand by a velvet couch. ‘The cinema passes can be given to friends, too. You can even take your husband for free.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t have a husband,’ Freya said, noting a jar overflowing with sweets on the desk, more cheerful flowers in vases, and the framed certificates on the walls. One of them was a recent gold-framed tribute to the work of Lucas Van de Berg—Netherlands Paediatric Surgeon of the Year.

  ‘Boyfriend?’ Joy probed behind her. Freya laughed under her breath, wondering absently yet again what Lucas Van de Berg was like in person. She already knew he was articulate and well respected, rich and successful, and had a list of accolades a mile long. She’d been excited to work alongside him, just listening to him talk at the conference from his place on the interview panel, and on the podcast.

  Joy was still waiting to hear if she had a boyfriend.

  ‘No, I don’t have one of those either. I move around too much for that,’ Freya said.

  ‘Well, we’re lucky to have you here for the next six months.’ Joy beamed, and Freya forced a smile in return. She was excited about this position, and the free cinema passes, but no amount of perks would keep her from packing her bags once the house was sold, she knew that much for certain. Already she felt out of her comfort zone, being back once more in a place where no one had ever really wanted her.

  Joy leaned over a chair behind the desk and scanned the computer screen in front of her, whilst hurriedly pulling on a white coat over her sundress at the same time. ‘Oh, Lord, today is looking busier than I thought.’

  ‘Don’t let me hold you up,’ Freya started, although a very tall man with dark chestnut hair in a side parting had just stepped into the room and stolen all her other words away. She knew it was Lucas, before he even said a word, but the deep husky baritone of his voice confirmed it.

  He took in the room with a single sweep, his blue eyes settling on nothing before finding hers, and holding them.

  ‘Hi,’ he said. He stopped a foot from the doorway and pulled the phone he was holding away from his ear. She felt like a fish who’d just been hooked.

  ‘Lucas, there you are. Look who I found. This is Dr Freya Grey, our new cardiologist.’ Joy gestured to Freya proudly, like she was a treasure she’d just unearthed especially for him, but Lucas was already appraising her with his mouth curved in a slightly mysterious half-smile that did something funny to her stomach.

  ‘Dr Grey,’ he said coolly.

  He had kind, almond-shaped eyes, framed by soft, chestnut brows that matched his hair, which was slightly longer at the front than the back. A typical Dutch look, yet there was something extra striking about him. His face was clean shaven, and serious, and she noticed a pair of glasses peeking from the top pocket of his shirt.

  She took his outstretched hand and shook it. No ring, she noted. Interesting. The heart surgeon was single. Or at least not married. Not that she cared either way, she reminded herself. She was here to work, not for the men.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Joy reach a hand into the jar of sweets on the desk and fill one pocket of her white coat, but Freya couldn’t look away from Lucas. He was dressed in navy trousers and a crisp pale blue shirt. The laces in his expensive-looking loafers defied his sensible demeanour and clothing. They were the kind of comical bright green that might make a sick kid smile.

  He ended his call and put the phone into his trouser pocket, before sliding casually into the seat behind the computer. Joy offered Freya a coffee.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she replied. Lucas’s mouth stretched into a lazy smile, revealing very good teeth. Freya had a thing about men’s teeth, probably from all the years she’d spent in America. Once last year she’d gone on a date with a guy she’d met online—the only date in a long time—and the second he’d smiled in real life she
’d regretted it. His teeth had been a total disaster zone.

  ‘OK...well, I should get to my rounds now.’ Joy placed a hand lightly on Freya’s arm on the way past with her own coffee. ‘You’re in good hands with Lucas.’

  I have no doubt about that, Freya thought as she found herself alone with Lucas. Suddenly she didn’t know what to do with her hands, and she cursed herself for refusing the coffee. He gestured to the seat in front of him, then trailed a finger round the rim of his cup as she sat opposite him, urging her own hands not to betray her by fiddling with her hair. She quickly clasped them in her lap.

  ‘Finally we meet,’ he said. ‘I take it you’re settling in OK, getting over the jet-lag?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ she said, swallowing hard. She hadn’t anticipated him being quite so handsome. ‘I’m pretty used to jet-lag by now, that’s not what keeps me awake at night.’

  She watched his eyebrows rise in interest as he rested on his elbows and leaned forward slightly. ‘Sleepless in Amsterdam already? I forgot, you mentioned you had plans to renovate a house here. I imagine that must be a lot of work.’

  Freya recalled they’d spoken briefly about her other ‘job’ here during their phone call. She fought the fresh twinge of anxiety from showing on her face. Grandma Anouk’s house was so full of clutter. A clause in her will had stated it shouldn’t be touched by anyone except Freya and her elderly friend who lived in the house next door, so it had been left exactly as it was since her death almost a year ago.

  Now, with her own stuff on top, she could barely move in it around all the boxes. Doing up the house and selling it was going to be a far bigger project than she’d anticipated. Just the thought of it had kept her awake most of last night, and she prayed she didn’t look tired on her first day at work.

  ‘It won’t affect my work here, Dr Van de Berg,’ she assured him, noting his long, lean fingers reach for a pencil on the desk and pop it back into a jar of pens. She could imagine him in the operating room, stitching up patients she herself would have diagnosed and cared for, from start to finish. They were on the same team now. The thought brought new excitement, amping her up without the need for caffeine.