by Andrews, Amy
Prognosis So Done
Amy Andrews
Published by Amy Andrews, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
PROGNOSIS SO DONE
First edition. June 4, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Amy Andrews.
Written by Amy Andrews.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Prologue
CHAPTER ONE – 0700 hours
CHAPTER TWO - 0800 HOURS
CHAPTER THREE - 0900 HOURS
CHAPTER FOUR - 1000 HOURS
CHAPTER FIVE - 1100 HOURS
CHAPTER SIX - 1200 HOURS
CHAPTER SEVEN - 1300 HOURS
CHAPTER EIGHT - 1400 HOURS
CHAPTER NINE - 1500 HOURS
CHAPTER TEN - 1600 HOURS
CHAPTER ELEVEN - 1700 HOURS
CHAPTER TWELVE - 1800 HOURS
CHAPTER THIRTEEN - 1900 HOURS
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - 2000 HOURS
CHAPTER FIFTEEN - 2100 HOURS
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - 2200 HOURS
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - 2300 HOURS
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN - 2400 HOURS
CHAPTER NINETEEN - 0100 HOURS
CHAPTER TWENTY - 0200 HOURS
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - 0300 HOURS
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - 0400 HOURS
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - 0500 HOURS
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - 0600 HOURS
PROGNOSIS BABY DADDY
This book was previously published as The Surgeon's Meant-To-Be Bride.
Please note there is UK/Australian spelling used in this book.
Prologue
It’s nearly seven in the morning and I can’t sleep. Today is
the last day of our medical team’s rotation in this war zone.
One of many over the years. The team and I operated for sixteen hours straight yesterday and didn’t finish until well into the night.
But I don’t mind — I thrive on the challenge. And as great as it is to leave, it won’t take me long to miss it again. I love being part of this great team of people. Sure it can be dangerous, but what we do makes a difference to so many lives.
So why am I lying here awake when I should be sleeping? It’s Harriet. My wife. I’m losing her. I can’t put my finger on it, but last night, as we were standing together side by side and she was passing me instruments, I could feel her pulling away from me.
We’ve been reconciled for two months now and I thought we
were past the baby stalemate. Why is it that I can fix broken bodies with my eyes shut, but can’t seem to fix the rift in my
marriage?
I love Harriet. From the moment I saw her, I’ve never
wanted anyone else. The year we were separated was hell. Worse than living in a war zone. Our marriage had been perfect, an extension of our operating style — flawless with a poetic kind of symmetry. But suddenly she wanted a baby. And I didn’t. And we were at an impasse.
When she came back, I thought the issue had been resolved but...maybe not.
And so now I have a day – one day - to pull her back. It’s not much time, but a lot can happen in twenty-four hours —particularly here. And I simply can’t bear the thought of losing her again...
CHAPTER ONE – 0700 hours
The divorce papers burnt a hole in her hand as Harriet Remy carried the large yellow envelope to her soon-to-be ex-husband’s sleeping quarters. Nausea threatened and she swallowed hard to dispel it.
Just knock on the door, hand it over, then leave, Harriet
lectured herself as her rubber-soled shoes squeaked loudly on the aged linoleum in the hushed corridors. Do not stop for a chat. Do not go in for coffee. Do not let him make love to you.
She tossed her head and clamped down on the irony that threatened to bubble up in her chest and escape as sarcastic laughter. Sex, Harriet.
Have sex with you.
Their days of love-making were long past and she couldn’t afford such romantic stupidity.
They were getting divorced. The end. Finito. Period. They were just having a little difficulty remembering their differences in the haze of lust that descended upon them every time they got a little too close.
Harriet hadn’t yet worked out the co-ordinates of that invisible line — the one that separated close and too close — but she certainly knew when she’d crossed it. Except by then it was usually...always...too late.
She stopped in front of his door, gripping the envelope
tighter. Tomorrow. She would be gone tomorrow and his
signature would be on the papers and she could get on with her
life.
So she had to do this now.
She’d had the papers since she’d arrived in this country over two months ago but part of her had held back. Somewhere inside there had still been a small kernel of hope. A little Pollyanna ray of sunshine that had believed she could truly convince him to change his mind.
But two months of alternating between fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants medical drama and snatched moments of incredible can’t-get-enough-of-you sex hadn’t resolved anything.
Sex they were great at. Marriage not so much.
Harriet took a moment to tie her wavy hair back in a hastily constructed ponytail. He was going to look all messy-haired and sleepy and sexy as hell, so she desperately needed to look no-nonsense.
He hated her hair tied back. And for this task she needed him to hate her a little.
Harriet knocked on the door. The noise echoed loudly down the corridor and she hoped she hadn’t woken anyone else. All the surgical teams had been up until 1 a.m. and she didn’t think they’d appreciate such an early wake-up call. But this had to be done.
It’d been put off too long already.
She heard a mumbled expletive on the other side of the door and smiled to herself as she pictured Gill emerging from under his pillow, staring at the clock and frowning.
Please, have a shirt on.
The door opened abruptly and Harriet was confronted with his magnificent naked chest. She looked into his grumpy face and watched as he bit off a retort and a slow, lazy smile warmed his sleepy face.
Oh, hell...
Of all the men in all the world she had to marry one that
looked like a naughty angel.
‘Harry,’ he murmured.
His morning voice stroked across her skin, sending every nerve ending in her body into a frenzy. She knew where the line was today.
She was standing on it.
‘I’m sorry I woke you.’ She lifted her eyes off his smooth pectoral muscles and tried to shut down her peripheral vision so she couldn’t see the bulge of his naked biceps.
‘I’m not.’
Harriet frowned as he lifted a hand and caressed the St Christopher hanging from the delicate silver chain around her
neck. God...he had a mouth that was made for kissing and she could feel herself teetering on the line. She wanted to lean forward and draw his soft bottom lip into her mouth and bite it.
He tugged gently trying to draw her into the room but Harriet resisted. She knew that crossing the line was not what this was about.
Give him the papers and go. Run like the wind.
Harriet brought the envelope up between them, abruptly displacing his hand.
‘What’s this?’ he asked, a small smile playing on his lips and dancing in his grey eyes.
‘Divorce papers.’ It was blunt but she felt stronger just saying the words.
He stared for a moment, shooting her another slow smile as he took the envelope and tossed it over his shoulder. Harriet heard it land on the flo
or behind.
‘Gill...’ she chided softly. ‘I need you to sign them. It’s time.’
He stood to one side and gestured her into the room with a flourish of his deft surgeon’s hands. Harriet shook her head vehemently. ‘No.’
She knew what would happen if she put her foot over the line. His quarters were three metres by three metres dominated by an unmade bed and an undressed man.
‘Harriet.’ He sighed, but she could see the sparkle of amusement lighting his eyes. ‘I’m not going to discuss our divorce with you in the corridor.’
His rich, deep voice oozed like warm chocolate, coating her in its sweet, sticky web. He held out his hand to her. It sounded so reasonable and he was so damn tempting like this all big and broad. Warm and sleepy. Straight from his bed.
Hesitating only briefly she took his hand and his gentle tug pulled her over the line.
And not to discuss their divorce, either.
When he reached behind her and pulled her hair free she didn’t protest. Neither did she when he kissed her. In fact, she welcomed it – greedily - ready to join in this dance they did so well, eager to be naked with him one last time.
Harriet had felt the familiar pull the moment he had opened the door and had known deep inside that resistance was useless. She could pretend as much as she liked that it was over between them, but she knew this would never be over.
This insane lust that had blinded her with its ferocity
for seven years.
Sure, he’d sign the papers and their union would be broken, but this endless urge to be with him, to know him carnally every time they were together, could never be broken. Her only hope was absence.
Which was why, come tomorrow, she was staying way the hell away from him!
A low quiver in her abdomen at the sheer hunger and force of his kiss had her clinging to his broad naked shoulders. She heard him groan her name into her mouth and she whimpered in
response.
‘Harry,’ he said, tearing his mouth away and looking searchingly into her eyes, his breathing harsh, his grey eyes stormy with passion.
She claimed his mouth quickly, hungrily, empowered by his almost bewildered look. The fact that she could do to him what he did to her was a powerful aphrodisiac and she let herself go, let the kiss grow wild and savage. Just for one last time she wanted him to realise what he was turning his back on.
Her hands roamed to the smooth muscles of his chest, trailed down his flat abdomen, and she took pleasure in their quick response to her touch as they contracted beneath her nails. And when she slipped her hands beneath his boxer shorts to grab handfuls of his tight buttocks she grinned in triumph as the hardness of his erection pushed urgently between her hips.
He grasped the bottom of her scrubs top and whipped it
over her head in a swift movement not bothering to fumble with the bra clasp just yanking the cups aside, freeing her breasts and roughly stroked his thumbs over her nipples until she cried out and they peaked into hard nubs.
He pushed and she fell backwards against the rumpled bed and Harriet had a moment of clarity. How must she look? Half-naked, her hair spread in wild abandon against the sheets, her bra ripped aside, her breasts achingly aroused. Then Gill removed his boxers and all rational thought fled.
He stood for a moment tall and proud, just looking at her with more lust than she’d known existed in the whole world. He wasn’t embarrassed by his arousal and already she wanted to feel its silky smoothness in her hands, her mouth, deep inside her.
Harriet licked her dry lips and noticed Gill’s eyes widen at the unintentional come-on. He reached down and pulled the cord at her waist that held her scrubs up and yanked both them and her panties down in one swift movement.
Now she lay totally naked before him, as naked as he was before her and she couldn’t stop the whimper of need that escaped her mouth or holding her arms out to him in silent consent.
And then his weight was on her and his mouth was everywhere. Drawing wet circles around her breasts and sucking her nipples to tortured peaks, nibbling her earlobes, tickling her stomach and licking inside her until she thought she would faint from the need.
And then, when the desire built to fever pitch, his mouth claimed hers and he let his fingers do the walking. They stroked and caressed and danced their way all over her body, and when he put them deep inside her she had to bite hard on her lip to stop the scream.
Even crazed with lust, she remembered how thin the walls
were!
‘Now,’ she whispered urgently, clinging to his neck as his fingers wove a magical rhythm and she could feel her orgasm rushing out from deep inside her, threatening to engulf her at any second.
Their gazes locked as he plunged inside her. With each stroke she hurtled closer, and with each stroke his eyes seemed to dare hers to close. But Harriet refused. She would not look away or shut her eyes, even as the pressure built. She wanted to look straight at him as she came.
She wanted to watch his eyes as he came, too.
She wanted their last time to be indelibly imprinted on her retinas. She wanted to see his face as he lost control inside her.
Harriet bit down on her gasp as the first wave broke.
‘Say my name.’
She shook her head. If she let it out, the earth would shake and the parrots in the sparse trees outside would lift in noisy flight and every doctor and nurse in the complex would finally hear the cracking of her heart.
‘Say it,’ he demanded.
She shook her head again and tried to internalise the orgasm that was eroding the edges of her endurance so she wouldn’t cry out his name.
‘Please, Harry.’
His voice was halfway between begging and groaning and she knew that she didn’t have the power to deny him this one last request. And she wanted their last time to be memorable, imprinted on his mind for ever. So she let herself go, crying out his name as the tumult of her orgasm flung her into the far reaches of the galaxy, vaguely hearing her name as he joined her and they hovered together, amongst the stars.
CHAPTER TWO - 0800 HOURS
‘The papers, Gill.’
Dr Guillaume Remy had been enjoying the disconnected feeling of being outside his body, letting his mind drift through the silky tendrils of sexual limbo. In the strange world between slumber and wakefulness he could forget about the papers lying discarded on his floor and that the woman he loved no longer wanted to be with him.
There was only the wonderful haze of pleasure that reached deep into his bones, making him feel heavy and weightless all at the same time. A semi-conscious state halfway between arousal and satisfaction that he wished they could stay in forever.
He supposed this was the high that drug addicts craved and thanked his lucky stars he didn’t need to inject anything to attain it.
He just needed Harriet. Oh, sure, he was no novice. He’d had his share of women with whom he’d experienced sexual pleasure before his marriage, but Harry...it had never been like this with anyone but her. They were so perfectly in tune, so intimately in sync, that sex with her was an addiction he doubted he’d ever manage to control.
They’d been apart for a year but when she’d rejoined his team two months ago it had been as if their separation had never happened. The way she talked and the way she laughed and the way she moved and her smell were as familiar to him as breathing. The way she kissed him, caressed him, touched him was still the biggest thrill he had ever known.
‘Gill!’ Her voice broke into the fog floating through his brain. He half opened his eyes and watched her pulling on her clothes, hiding her body from him.
‘Come back to bed,’ he murmured.
There were few things on this earth better than a naked
Harriet. Her body was superb...perfect. She had the body and grace of a ballerina. Naturally slender. Toned arms, thighs and calves, flat stomach, long legs, a perky bottom and pert breasts. Her olive skin was blemish-free and the small m
ole on her left hip was as fascinating today as it had been seven years ago when she had broken all her rules and slept with him after knowing him for three hours.
Her gorgeous wavy hair flowed like a river of molasses down the elegant arc of her back almost to the curve of her buttocks. He had spent many an hour combing his fingers through its heaviness. It was long enough that if she brought it forward over her shoulders it covered both breasts, mermaid-like.
He had a sudden vision of himself as a lust-struck sailor scooping her up from a rocky outcrop, hypnotised by her beauty, and making love to her on a beach as the waves crashed around them. His dick twitched and he wanted her again.
‘Gill,’ she repeated, and the note of exasperation in her voice brought him fully out of his fantasy.
Harriet blasted a glare at him that would have vaporised most men, but still he could feel his erection build. If anything, her crankiness was turning him on. He watched her as she realised what was happening to his uncovered anatomy and the look of hunger on her face had him completely ready.
‘Come back to bed,’ he repeated in a low growl, and he watched the widening of her eyes as temptation flitted across her features and she absently dug her teeth into her bottom lip.
‘You know you want to, Harry.’
He knew instantly he had said the wrong thing as he saw the battle end and a look of grim determination set her lips into a thin line.
‘For God’s sake,’ she snapped, ‘get dressed and sign the papers.’
Harriet turned her back to him and Gill knew that he had lost her. He sighed and got up, pulling his boxers on.
‘You can turn around now,’ he said, amused by the rigidity of her back and the way she was impatiently drumming her fingers against her folded arms.
Gill scooped the envelope off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed as Harriet faced him, her arms still folded. They stared at each other for a few moments, not saying anything.
‘So this is why you came back to the team after staying away for so long? So you could hand deliver these?’
