“I’d better go. It would be very easy to do something really silly here.”
Lucinda gave a little grumble and laid her head on his chest. Seb was right; she knew they shouldn’t make love, not here and not so soon, but her resistance around this man was practically zero.
“Like what?” she said huskily, not wanting the evening to end, but his answer to her seductive question came as such a surprise for once she was completely lost for words.
“Like fall in love.” He gently kissed the top of her head. “I’d better get back.” Dumbly she nodded, and stood quite still as he left. He felt it, too; it wasn’t just her! How on earth, she wondered, was she supposed to sleep after that?
CAROL MARINELLI did her nursing training in England and then worked for a number of years in emergency medicine. A holiday romance while backpacking led to her marriage and immigration to Australia. Eight years and three children later the romance continues….
Today she considers both England and Australia her home. The sudden death of her father prompted a reappraisal of her life’s goals and inspired her to tackle romance writing seriously.
Look out for more titles in Harlequin Presents® by this exciting new author!
Coming next month:
The Billionaire’s Contract Bride
#2372
Carol Marinelli
DR. CARLISLE’S CHILD
For Mario.
With love and gratitude for all your support.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
EPILOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
ALL eyes were on Lucinda Chambers as she walked onto the paediatric cardiac unit at Melbourne Central Women’s and Children’s Hospital, and she knew it. Pushing her shoulders back, she assumed what she hoped was a confident poise and, reminding herself to breathe, she made her way over to the group of white coats huddled around the nurses’ station.
‘Ah, Miss Chambers.’ Professor Hays held out his hand and Lucinda accepted his handshake firmly. ‘I trust you had a pleasant flight.’ Without waiting for her reply, he turned and addressed his loyal followers. ‘As you know, Miss Chambers joins us today from Queensland, bringing with her a wealth of knowledge and talent from which we can all benefit. As you know, until Mr Felix returns from overseas Miss Chambers will be the only consultant on my team so I am, of course, counting on you all to give her every assistance.’ He paused for a moment as the group murmured their agreement.
Lucinda smiled back at the faces, some curious, others indifferent and a couple downright hostile. Her appointment as Consultant Paediatric Cardiothoracic Surgeon had caused more than a few raised eyebrows. At thirty-four she was considered young for such a senior position and a woman to boot. Cardiothoracic surgery was still predominantly male-dominated, even in these so-called liberated times. For a woman to make it in this field took more than just talent with a scalpel.
But, then, Lucinda had it all—good-looking by any standards, with long thick hair, an exquisite shade of chestnut, flawless creamy skin and a curvaceous, supple body that belied the never-ending take-aways, hospital canteen food and diet Coke that she survived on.
More relevantly, she also happened to be the daughter of two of Queensland’s most prominent cosmetic surgeons who were ambitious in the extreme where their daughter was concerned. Her mother, despite being possibly the least maternal woman ever to give birth, had been almost pathological in her desire for her daughter’s success, planning her education and career almost from the moment of conception.
Though confident she had got the job on her own merits, Lucinda acknowledged that her breeding hadn’t been a hindrance. The fact that there were a couple of noses out of joint amongst her new colleagues came as no particular surprise.
‘Well, enough of the introductions for now. We’ll get started on the ward round, but there will be a small luncheon in the function room at noon so we can welcome Miss Chambers properly. I hope to see you all there.’
As the charge nurse wheeled a large trolley containing the patients’ files and X-rays, the group followed. Professor Hays was leading, of course, with the charge nurse to his left and slightly behind. Lucinda assumed her position just to his right and slightly back, with the rest of the procession bringing up the rear in order of merit. It was old-school and had probably been abandoned years ago on most other wards, but Professor Hays was a stickler for formality.
‘A small speech would go down well at lunchtime,’ he said in low tones to Lucinda. ‘To introduce yourself. Just a few words, very informal, nothing to worry about.’
‘I’d be glad to,’ Lucinda replied confidently as her stomach turned 360 degrees. The thought of facing that adverse group did nothing to inspire her. The charge nurse turned and gave her an almost imperceptible wink and Lucinda winked back. Looking at her name badge, she saw that her name was Ann Benton. Her face, apart from Professor Hays’s, had been the only friendly one she had seen so far. For the first time that day Lucinda’s smile was genuine.
‘First we have young Billy Carlisle.’ Ann introduced the young boy sitting cross-legged on his bed, clutching a large unfriendly-looking robot.
‘Mr Hughes, perhaps you’d like to brief Miss Chambers and the students on Billy’s condition?’
Pete cleared his throat and spoke in the low tones, which enabled the staff to hear but not the patient.
‘Billy Carlisle, five years old. Born by emergency C-section at thirty-five weeks gestation due to premature labour with malpresentation and foetal distress. At birth a heart murmur was noticed and subsequent testing showed a large ventricular septal defect.’
Lucinda glanced over to the bed at the young boy trying to get his mother’s attention as she filed her nails. Her heart skipped a beat. He was easily the cutest child she had ever seen. Raven curls framed his pale face, his lips were full and tinged with blue yet Lucinda just knew that once he had the surgery to correct the cardiac defect he’d been born with they would be a dark red. His eyes were a vivid green. Glancing up, he caught her staring and gave her a cheeky smile.
For a second she froze, about to look away in her usual fashion, but for some reason she couldn’t explain Lucinda found herself smiling back.
Pete Hughes continued with his speech and Lucinda tore her eyes away from the young boy and forced herself to concentrate.
‘We were initially hoping to avoid surgery but his condition has started to deteriorate due to development of an associated atrial septal defect. As you can see, he’s cyanosed and is having trouble keeping up with his peers. Billy also suffers from chronic asthma, which currently is proving difficult to control and is exacerbating his cardiac problems. He’s scheduled for Theatre on Wednesday.’
The entourage moved closer around Billy’s bedside, and a couple of students stood with their stethoscopes poised as Billy resignedly undid his pyjama top and let them listen to his chest.
‘Good morning, Gemma.’ Professor Hays greeted the child’s mother in a surprisingly familiar fashion.
‘Is it?’ she barked rudely. ‘Seb was supposed to be here an hour ago. I’ve got an appointment in the City at ten.’
‘Seb’s still in Theatre. I know Casualty had a couple of urgent cases this morning—he shouldn’t be too much longer,’ Professor Hays answered soothingly. So that was why he was being so familiar. Her husband must be a doctor here. Professor Hays turned to Lucinda.
‘Young Billy’s father is Sebastian Carlisle, one of our consultant a
naesthetists,’ he explained to Lucinda. ‘An excellent anaesthetist—I know you’ll enjoy working with him,’ he said in a booming voice, then added in quieter tones, ‘He talks to his patients while they’re under, mind. I’ve never quite worked him out.’
‘Well, I’ve got some forms I need him to sign before I go. Can’t somebody page him?’ Gemma asked petulantly.
‘And for a second I thought she was here for her son,’ Ann muttered darkly into Lucinda’s ear, then, smiling brightly, she turned to the agitated woman. ‘No worries, Gemma, I’ll have someone do that now,’ she said, nodding to the ward clerk as she spoke. ‘Was there anything you wanted to ask Professor Hays about Billy?’
Gemma frowned slightly. ‘Seb deals with all the medical side of things.’
Ann ruffled Billy’s hair. ‘I’ll be back to you later, sport. You can choose this morning’s video.’
His eyes widened. ‘Can I? Then I want—’
‘Robot Savers!’ said Ann, Professor Hays, Pete Hughes, a couple of other doctors and all the nursing staff in unison. The only one who didn’t join in the fun was his mother, who looked pointedly at her watch.
‘How did we guess?’ Ann laughed. Lucinda had no idea what they were talking about but she again found herself smiling at the cheeky little scamp who had everyone wrapped around his finger. Everyone that was, except his mother.
Gemma stood up. ‘About time,’ she said pointedly as the ward doors opened and a doctor dressed in theatre greens entered. Lucinda felt her stomach muscles tighten. There could be no doubt it was Billy’s father. He had the same vivid green eyes and the same raven curls, but with just a sprinkling of silver which gave him a certain air of distinction. His height and build increased his air of authority. Standing well over six feet, even in his baggy theatre gear one couldn’t help but notice his athletic physique. Now, Sebastian Carlisle was most definitely her type, but married, Lucinda reminded herself. Wasn’t it always the way? All the decent men, it seemed, were already spoken for.
Sebastian Carlisle pointedly ignored his wife’s acid remarks as he made his way to his son’s bedside, his haughty face softening as he kissed Billy.
‘I was on my way over when you paged me.’ He nodded politely to the professor. ‘Is everything all right?’
‘No, everything is not all right,’ Gemma rudely interrupted Professor Hays’s assurances. ‘I have an appointment at ten and you know I needed to talk to you this morning.’
Sebastian seemed unfazed by the argumentative tones of his wife.
‘And you know that I’m a doctor. I can’t just walk out halfway through an operation. Anyway, I’m here now.’
The staff had started to move on to the next bed but Lucinda noted that Billy’s respiration rate was increasing and he was starting to use his accessory muscles. ‘Ann, when did Billy last have a nebuliser?’
‘An hour ago.’
Gently Lucinda sat the young boy forward and, lifting his pyjama top, listened to his chest.
‘He’s a bit tight. Give him another 2.5 mg of Ventolin.’ She checked his drug chart. ‘He’s got a PRN order.’ Lucinda turned to Jack Wells, the junior intern. ‘Have a listen to his chest later on, he might need his medication reviewed again.’
Jack nodded, blushing when she addressed him, and hastily scribbled Lucinda’s orders into the notebook he was carrying as they moved on to the next bed.
‘Good morning, Bianca, and how are we feeling?’ Professor Hays’s cheerful, booming greeting seemed a ridiculous contrast to the young painfully thin girl lying exhausted against her mountain of pillows. Yet somehow the frail teenager summoned up the strength to remove her oxygen mask and give the professor a thumbs-up sign.
‘Good,’ she gasped. ‘And you, Prof?’
He laughed heartily. ‘Oh, you know me—in a rush as always.’
Bianca said something but the words were inaudible as she coughed and struggled for breath. Ann, however, used to the young girl, leant over the bed and translated for the benefit of the entourage. ‘What time’s tee-off?’
Everyone laughed, yet Lucinda knew it was tinged with sadness and that the fragile form on the bed, laughing and joking with the professor like a school pal in the playground, was more than just a patient to the staff here.
Professor Hays turned his back on Bianca and spoke in low tones to Lucinda, but before he even started to talk she had guessed the diagnosis.
‘Bianca Moore, thirteen years old, end-stage cystic fibrosis. She’s on the waiting list for a double lung and heart transplant. She’s held her own for a long time, but in the last fortnight her condition has started to deteriorate rapidly.’
Ann put up the latest chest x-rays. The group gathered round and studied the films as Professor Hays went into greater detail about Bianca’s condition. Lucinda listened as she flicked through Bianca’s blood results.
‘Her potassium’s high,’ she stated.
‘We’re aware of that and it’s being corrected. She’s been given Resonium,’ Pete Hughes answered smartly, his casual voice belying the menacing look in his eyes. Lucinda could almost taste the animosity. Professor Hays said nothing, but Lucinda could feel his scrutiny and knew only too well he was assessing how she dealt with her new status.
‘Which is the right treatment, of course,’ Lucinda answered calmly. ‘But her potassium isn’t just slightly raised—it’s dangerously high. Shouldn’t she be on a cardiac monitor?’
Pete Hughes threw her a look of utter contempt but his voice conveyed the same friendly tones. ‘I think she’s on enough monitors, don’t you? I spoke with Bianca and she got very distressed. She likes to get up and have a shower. She’s on all the right treatment—it should be resolved by this evening.’
Lucinda understood his judgement, far more than he realised. The child had been through enough. A cardiac monitor curtailed the few privileges that Bianca had left, like a morning shower. Yet she also knew he was letting his involvement with the patient cloud his judgement. They weren’t here to make friends. They were here to save lives, and if Bianca was going to be upset by a cardiac monitor then so be it. Better that than have a child who had already been through so much die from something as preventable as a cardiac arrhythmia caused by a raised potassium level that they were aware of.
‘I’d like Bianca on a cardiac monitor, please.’ She turned to Ann, who nodded and wrote the order on a pad.
‘Now, if that’s possible.’
Ann smiled warmly. ‘No worries.’ Turning to a junior colleague Ann relayed her message and in seconds a cardiac monitor appeared by the grumbling Bianca’s bedside.
‘It will probably come off tonight,’ Lucinda said firmly, knowing a day was a lifetime to this child.
Ann sat her up and deftly placed the red dots that would hold the monitors’ leads onto Bianca’s chest. The upright motion allowed an increase in the air entry into her damaged lungs, giving more clarity to her feeble voice.
‘What’s your name?’ she demanded. Lucinda kept her feet firmly planted on the floor and her shoulders back.
‘Miss Chambers.’ She heard the unanimous intake of breath from her colleagues at her obvious distancing from the patient. The only person who didn’t seem offended was Bianca.
‘You’re not very friendly, are you?’ she stated matter-of-factly.
Lucinda approached her bedside and leant over, her face inches away from Bianca, beckoning her as if to share a secret. ‘I might not be very friendly,’ she whispered into her ear just loudly enough for everyone to hear, ‘but I’m a great doctor.’ Pleasingly, her words seemed to appease Bianca and the young girl gave Lucinda a weak thumbs-up sign, a gesture that at this stage Lucinda didn’t know how much she would come to cherish.
Her reputation as hard had obviously followed her from Queensland, but it didn’t concern Lucinda. She had learned long ago that in her line of work emotions and cardiothoracic surgery simply didn’t mix. She had lost count of the times she had cried into her pillow at night ov
er a young life lost, until finally the only way for her to cope had been to erect the barriers and retain a cool distance.
The round took ages. Once they had finished with the cardiac unit they made their way along the hospital corridor, losing Jack Wells en route when he was paged to return there and Pete Hughes who was urgently needed in Casualty.
Somewhat depleted, they arrived on NICU, the neonatal intensive care unit, to see pre-and post-operative patients. Here, more than anywhere, lives hung precariously in the balance, the lives of tiny babies whose conditions were monitored second by second by the dedicated and highly skilled nursing staff, who knew that even the smallest variance could indicate imminent disaster for their fragile charges. Lucinda looked into the incubators at the little scraps fighting for survival against all the odds. The constant beeping and monitor alarms in the unit was something Lucinda had grown used to by now, but for new parents the whole experience was terrifying.
Sue Washington met them and introduced herself as the charge nurse.
‘I’m sorry, Andrew’s busy, so you’ll have to put up with me taking you around.’
Professor Hays motioned his acceptance and the round commenced.
‘Andrew Doran is the neonatologist here,’ Sue explained. ‘You’ll meet him in a few moments—he’s actually with one of your patients, a micro-prem.’
‘How many weeks’ gestation?’ Lucinda asked.
‘Twenty-four weeks,’
Lucinda’s grimace didn’t go unnoticed. ‘And the fact she’s one of ours doesn’t sound too promising?’ Lucinda ventured.
Sue gave her a knowing a look. ‘Exactly. Kimberley Stewart was born with nearly every problem in the book, and what she wasn’t born with she’s collected along the way. She went back to Theatre last night with necrotising enterocolitis. I can safely say that at the moment her cardiac defect is the least of her problems, so you can hazard a guess at how sick she is.’
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