Saved by Doctor Dreamy

by Dianne Drake

  “Maybe a hospital with Egyptian cotton sheets?” Everyone had something to run away from, she supposed. He did. She did. It was lucky for both of them that their need to run away had coincided with a place for them to go. Whether running into each other would turn out to be a good thing remained to be seen.

  “I’ve lowered my expectations these past few months. If I have any bedsheets, I’m happy.”

  “But they didn’t train you in medical school to be concerned about the sheets.”

  “And they didn’t train you in medical school how to be a recruiter. Which makes me wonder if it’s a good fit for you since you came knocking on my humble little door, wanting something different than what you already had. Ever think you made the wrong choice, that you belong back in your old life?”

  OK, based on the little bit she knew about him, this was the Damien she’d expected. Not the one who almost garnered her admiration, but the one who annoyed her. “I made a very good choice coming to Costa Rica, regardless of what you think!” He was beginning to sound like her father. Bad choice, Juliette. Think about it. You’ll come to your senses. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “In my hospital, it is my business. Everything here is my business, including you. Because you working here affects everything else around you, and I have to protect the hospital’s interests.”

  “What’s your point?” she snapped.

  “That’s for you to figure out. Which, I’m sure, will happen in time.”

  “There’s nothing to figure out. I accepted a position that brings first-rate medical professionals here. It’s an honorable job and I like it. It’s...important.”

  “I’m not saying that it’s not. With the need to improve medical conditions expanding, I’m sure it’s becoming a very important position. But is it important enough to you? Or is patient care more important?”

  “Why can’t both be important to me?”

  “In my experience, I’ve found that we poor mortals don’t always do a good job of dividing ourselves.”

  “That’s assuming I’m divided.”

  “Well, I suppose only you know if that’s the case.” Damien stepped away from the bed. “Anyway, your patient will be here shortly, so I’d suggest you figure out some way to expedite those bedsheets so you can go be a real doctor.” With that, he spun around and started walking away.

  “Are you always so rude?” she asked him while he was still within earshot. He was not only rude, he was also nosy, presumptuous and out of line.

  Damien stopped and turned back to face her. “I do it rather well, don’t you think?”

  * * *

  Struggling with simple bedsheets, the way she was doing right now, was almost cute. It was painfully obvious, though, that this was a chore far beyond her capabilities. Or one she’d never before practiced. Which reminded Damien of days gone by, and one of the reasons he was here in the jungle, hiding away from civilization. Juliette was obviously a rich girl, probably out on her own in the world for the very first time and, once upon a time, he’d almost married a rich girl who probably still wasn’t out in the world.

  Spoiled was the word that always came to mind when he thought about Nancy. It was a word he wanted to apply to Juliette as well, but the determination he could see in her stopped him short of going that far. The fact was, Nancy would have never set foot in his jungle clinic and Juliette was here, fighting to make a difference. Which didn’t exactly fit his perception of a rich girl.

  OK, he had a bias. He admitted it. Hated that he’d just shown a bit of it to Juliette, by raising the doubt that she could cut it here. But it was well deserved, considering how he’d endured months of spoiled behavior from a woman he’d planned on marrying. Not that Nancy had ever played spoiled rich girl when it was just the two of them. No, she’d been sweet and attentive, convincing him she was the one to settle down for. Or in Juliette’s case, she was the one he needed here to help him.

  But in the end, Nancy had told him he could never be enough for her. He couldn’t give her enough, as her demands had grown larger. More time. More attention. More of everything. He’d tried. He’d honestly tried. Bought her everything she wanted, which put him into deep debt. Cut back his hours at the hospital to spend more time with her, which almost cost him his job. No matter what he’d done, though, it hadn’t been adequate. So he’d tried harder, and always failed.

  As far as Juliette working here—could that be enough for her? Or was he overthinking this thing? Truth was, he was wary. With Nancy, the vicious circle he’d got himself trapped in had played against his self-esteem and it hadn’t helped when her parents told him that he’d always be struggling, that he’d never have enough to give her what she deserved. Things. Lots and lots of material things. And social status. Even with his surgeon’s salary and his position at the hospital, and all the awards he’d won, they were right. At least, he’d thought so at the time.

  Anyway, she’d moved out of his apartment and gone home, straight into Mommy’s and Daddy’s arms. As far as he knew, two years later, she was still there, dwelling quite happily as their spoiled-rotten daughter. Probably waiting for Daddy to fix her up with a man who fit the family image. A man who could give her the things Damien could not.

  Which, admittedly, stung. He’d reeled from the breakup for weeks, wondering what he could have done differently. Wondering why he’d thought he was good enough for Nancy when, obviously, he was not. Wondering why he’d chosen Nancy in the first place.

  So, was Juliette that spoiled? Would she spend a day or an entire weekend here, only to discover that it wasn’t enough for her? Would she walk away when she realized he couldn’t give her proper bedsheets, let alone a proper bed? Bottom line—he needed her here. Recruits didn’t come knocking every day when he advertised. And when they did show up, they usually turned right back around and left. In fact, other than George Perkins, she’d been the first doctor in his entire year here to show any real interest in staying. And he needed her skills. But could he count on her coming through, the way he’d counted on Nancy before she’d let him down?

  He didn’t know, couldn’t tell. Juliette was obviously of upper means and, yes, that did have a huge bearing on the way he was feeling so uneasy about her motives or dedication. But there was also something about her that caused him to believe that her upper means hadn’t knocked something basic out of her. She was a hard worker and, so far, she hadn’t complained about the menial tasks. Time would tell what she was really made of, he supposed. For now, he was simply trying to keep an open mind. Because for some reason other than his need of her medical skills, a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he wanted her to stay. Maybe for a change of scenery? Or to break the monotony? He honestly didn’t know.

  “You’ve only got just the one exam room in the clinic?” Juliette asked him, once all the beds were made.

  “The clinic was originally my living quarters. One room for everything. But I built a divider so there would be a waiting room on one side and an exam room on the other. That’s all there was room for.”

  “Then where do you sleep?” she asked him.

  “In a hut next door. Another one-room setup. Not as nice as the hospital, though.”

  Juliette cringed. “I hate to ask, but where will I stay when I’m here?”

  Ah, yes. The first test. No sheets, no bed—no room of her own. This is where it began, he supposed. Or ended. “Well, I’ve got two choices. You could stay here in the hospital, use an empty bed and hope we don’t get so busy you’ll have to give it up. We’ll partition it off for you to give you some privacy. And the perk there is that the hospital has running water, a shower, a bathroom. Or, if you don’t like that idea, you can shack with me. And the drawbacks there are—I don’t have running water, don’t have a bathroom or a shower. I have to come into the hospital for all that. Oh, and rumor
has it that I might snore.” He cringed, waiting for what he believed would be the inevitable.

  “So if I choose your hut, I’d be what? Sleeping in bed with you?”

  “No, I’m a little more gentlemanly than that. I’d give you the bed, and I’d take the floor.” Said with some forced humor, since humor was all he had to offer at the moment.

  “But in the same room?”

  “Kind of like the student years, when you’d crash in the on-call room, no matter who was sleeping next to you. You did sleep in an on-call, didn’t you?” Somehow, he could picture Juliette as the type who would lock the on-call door behind her and keep the room all to herself.

  “I did,” she said hesitantly. “When I had to.”

  “So let me guess. You didn’t like it.”

  “It was necessary, when I was pulling twenty-four-hour shifts. But did I like it? Not particularly.”

  “How did I know that?” he asked, still waiting for the curtain to fall on this little act he was putting on. Who was he kidding here? Girls accustomed to silk sheets liked silk. And he sure as hell didn’t have anything silk.

  “You didn’t know that,” she said, expelling an exasperated sigh. “You’re just into making snap judgments about me. All of them negative. Do you ever see anything positive in any situation, Damien?”

  Maybe she was right. Maybe he was so used to looking for the negative that he wouldn’t recognize a ray of something positive if it walked right up and slapped him in the face. Damn, he didn’t mean to be like that. But something about Juliette poked at him. It was almost like he was trying to push her away. From what? He had no clue. “Look, I’ll try to be more positive, OK?”

  “Don’t put yourself out on my account. I’m a big girl. I can take it.” She squared herself up to her full five-foot-six frame and stared him down. “And I think I’ll just stay in the hospital, all things considered.” Narrowing her eyes, she went on, “I hate snoring. And, just for the record, Damien, you’re not going to scare me off. I came here so I could stay better in touch with patient care, and I don’t intend to back out of it, no matter how hard you’re trying to push me away.”

  “I’m not trying to push you away,” he defended.

  “Sure you are. Don’t know why, don’t particularly care. Just let me do my job here, and we’ll get along. OK?”

  Well, she certainly was driven. He liked that. Liked it a lot. “Look, if you want privacy, you can have my hut on the weekends you’re here, and I’ll stay in the hospital.”

  “The weekends I’m here will be every weekend.”

  “You’re sure of that? Because it’s a long, tough drive to get here, and I don’t have anything to make your life, or your work, easier when you’re here.”

  “I’m adaptable, Damien. I’ll make do.”

  He wanted to trust that she would. “Look, we can finish talking about your housing options later on, over dinner. But, right now, Señor Mendez is waiting in the clinic. Remember, gout? Oh, and I’m going to go make a house call. I have a patient who’s a week over her due date, and she’s getting pretty anxious to have her baby.”

  “Borrow my car. Take her for a ride on that bumpy road into town. That should induce something.”

  So she had a sense of humor. Even though she made her offer with a straight face, Damien laughed. “Might work better if I borrow a cart and a donkey from one of the locals.”

  “They actually have donkey carts here?” she asked in full amazement.

  “It’s called traveling in style. A modern convenience if the cart is fairly new and the donkey is reasonably young.” He stopped himself short of ridiculing the kind of car she probably had back home. A sleek sports model, most likely. Shiny and silver. Convertible. Her hair let down from its ponytail and blowing in the breeze. Nope, he had to stop this. It was going too far, almost daydreaming about her the way he was. “Anyway, I’ll probably be back before you’re done with Señor Mendez’s toe.”

  “Will Alegria be able to unlock the medicine cabinet for me?”

  Before he answered, he fished through the pocket of his khaki cargo shorts until he found a key. “Here, take mine. Just make sure you give it back before you leave here—when? Sunday night? Monday morning?”

  “Haven’t decided yet. I guess it will depend on the workload.”

  He dropped the key into her outstretched hand. “Well, next time I get to Cima de la Montaña I’ll have a key made for you.” Provided she lasted that long. In a lot of ways, he hoped she did because, in spite of himself, and especially in spite of all his doubts, he liked her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “HOW WAS YOUR gout patient?” Damien asked Juliette on his way back into the hospital. She was coming out of the clinic, looking somewhat perplexed. “It was gout, wasn’t it?”

  “It was gout,” Juliette confirmed. “I was concerned about his age, though. He seems too young to be afflicted with it.”

  “I thought so, too, but the people here live hard lives. They age faster than normal.”

  “And he’s had a complete physical?”

  “Before he presented with gout symptoms?” Damien shook his head. “Getting people around here to submit to physicals when they don’t have any particular symptoms isn’t easy, but about six months ago Señor Mendez did come in. Nothing out of the ordinary turned up.”

  “Well, I gave him aspirin like you told me to. But there was something else going on. I think Señor Mendez was high on some kind of drug. At least, that’s the way he seemed. Slurred speech, slow movements. Do you know if he indulges?”

  Damien laughed. “A lot of the locals indulge. I’m surprised Señor Mendez would, though. He’s pretty straight. Doesn’t drink that I know of. Doesn’t do drugs—at least, I didn’t think he did. And, even if he did, it surprises me that he would go out in public that way because he’s a very polite, private, gentle man who spends every last penny he has to support his family. But I guess you never know what goes on behind closed doors, do you?”

  “Is it really that common around here?”

  “Ganja—marijuana—is cheap, and easily available.”

  “So what do you do if they come in here stoned?”

  “Treat them for what they came in for, and ignore the rest. I’m just the doctor here. I don’t get involved in anything else.”

  “Then you won’t report him?”

  “If he’s not bothering me, there’s no reason to. My personal policy is, if someone needs help they get help, in spite of all the external factors that might otherwise cause problems. In other words, if he’s stoned, you treat him, anyway. The rest of it’s none of my business.”

  “That’s decent of you.”

  “I aim to be decent to my patients. They’ve got enough hardships to face in their daily lives without me adding to them.”

  “But do you condone it?”

  “Nope. I’m a law-abiding citizen wherever I go, and the Costa Rican law makes ganja illegal, so I respect that.”

  “Then you, personally, don’t indulge?”

  “Never have, never will. Don’t smoke, either. Drink only in moderation. Work out regularly. Eat a balanced diet. You know, all good things for my body.” A body that seemed to be aging too quickly since he’d come to Costa Rica. Of course, that was about the hard work here. So were the new creases in his face and the pair of glasses he was now forced to wear any time he wanted to read. Most people wouldn’t consider him old, as he overtook his thirty-sixth birthday in a few weeks. But some days he just felt old—older than dirt. “Keeps me in good working condition.”

  “Well, I just wanted to let you know the condition of your patient.”

  “And I appreciate that. But I’m not really concerned about it. At least, not right now.”

  “When does that point change for you, Dami
en?”

  “When I see someone’s drug use as a potential danger to themselves or others. That’s when I’ll step in. But again, only as a doctor.”

  “We always had to note it in our chart at the hospital,” she said. “And if it was too bad, we were supposed to alert Security.”

  “Did you ever?”

  “Once. Then I had regrets, because he really wasn’t that bad. But I was new, still blindly loyal to hospital policy, probably more so than to the patient. Of course, that changed pretty quickly, the more involved I became with my patients.”

  “So you were a true, big hospital loyalist?”

  “Still am. But I’m more practical about it now. But you’ve got to understand that I was raised by a true hospital loyalist—the chief of staff, and those were the kinds of concerns he always brought home with him. What was best for the hospital was always his main concern, right after the kind of patient care we were giving.”

  “So your daddy’s a big shot in a big hospital?” Given her rich girl background, that didn’t surprise him.

  “That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. But to me he was always just my dad. A man who went to work, worked long, hard hours and came home to tuck me in every night. It never occurred to me that he was so important in terms of an entire medical community until I was probably ten or eleven and he took me to work with him to see what he did during the day.”

  “Did it impress you?”

  “Not so much then. I think I was more impressed by all the desserts in the cafeteria than I was by my father’s position in the hospital. Of course, the older I got the more I realized just what a big deal he was.”

  “But you have no aspirations for something like that for yourself?”

  “I had my shot at it. Dad offered me a promotion into administration a couple of months ago.”

  “So let me guess. You chose Costa Rica instead. Was it to run away from Daddy?” Probably her first real act of rebellion in a very laid-out life.