The GP's Valentine Proposal

by Jessica Matthews

  “But he will improve, won’t he?”

  “We’ll do everything possible so that he does.” Dixie patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry.”

  Dixie carried the specimen out of the room and handed it to Miranda. “Can you test this sample for me?”

  Miranda sighed. “Number twelve and it’s not quite noon. Any bets on if it turns up positive?”

  “Considering eight out of the eleven you’ve tested did, I predict the odds are good. I must say, though, Joey is the worst case I’ve seen this morning. Can you make arrangements for Dr Cameron to admit him?”

  “Good news. You can call the hospital yourself.”

  “I can?”

  Miranda nodded with a smile. “Mark pulled a few strings and organized emergency approval for you as an on-staff physician.”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “You should be. Once he received a faxed copy of your credentials, he didn’t waste any time.” She studied her carefully. “You didn’t say you worked in Chicago.”

  “No one asked.” She changed the subject because she didn’t like to talk about herself. “Who should I call about Joey Jamison?”

  “The admitting clerk. The extension is posted on the list by the telephone.”

  “Thanks.” Dixie hobbled to the nearest phone and dialed the number. Seconds later, she was passing along the information about Joey.

  “I’m sorry, Doctor,” the woman apologized. “But we don’t have any more pediatric beds.”

  “Then give him an adult bed. This baby needs specialized care.”

  “That may be, but we’re full. We should have a few extra beds tomorrow.”

  “My patient needs one today. Not tomorrow.”

  “This is the best I can do. I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  Dixie hung up, incensed by the situation. Tucking her crutches under her arm, she thumped down the hallway in search of her boss. Luckily, she caught him coming out of a room rather than going into one, but even her mission didn’t stop her from experiencing a sudden increase in her pulse rate at the sight of him in a lab coat. Although their paths hadn’t crossed since he’d picked her up that morning, he was every bit as breathtaking now as he had been at eight a.m.

  Breathtaking or not, Joey came first.

  “I can’t admit my patient,” she said without preamble.

  “Why not? I took care of all the paperwork so you can admit people to your heart’s content.”

  “The problem isn’t the paperwork. There aren’t any beds and I have a six-month-old who’s in respiratory distress.”

  “RSV?” he asked.

  “Miranda is testing the sample as we speak, but I’ll be surprised if it’s negative.”

  He heaved a long sigh. “Did they say when a bed was available?”

  “Tomorrow. Joey can’t wait that long.”

  “Jamison?”

  “Yes. Is he one of your patients?”

  “Technically, he’s Ned’s, but I’ve seen him a couple of times with upper respiratory infections. His dad smokes, which doesn’t help matters.”

  Dixie hadn’t accessed the history section of Joey’s computer file. After hearing his chest, she’d been more concerned about the immediate situation.

  “Won’t he quit, for his son’s sake?”

  “I’ve suggested it, but he assures me that he doesn’t smoke in the house.”

  “Yeah, right. Regardless, this is another reason why I can’t send that baby home until tomorrow. He needs treatment now.”

  Mark nodded, as if he accepted her decision. “I’ll see what strings I can pull.”

  Without his permission, she followed him into his office and waited while he punched the number on the telephone keypad. “Did you need something else?” he asked.

  “No, I just want to see how you manage to convince the admissions clerk to find a bed. I may need to borrow a few of your tactics for the next time I run into a similar situation.”

  He waved to the chair. “Then have a seat. This could take a while.”

  She sat and listened. First, he spoke to the same clerk that she had. When she didn’t come through for him, he punched in a new set of numbers. “The key is to go to the top.”

  “Who’s at the top?” she asked, curious.

  “The shift nursing supervisor. She’s responsible for moving patients and arranging bed space.” In the next breath, he said, “Mary? It’s Mark.”

  Dixie listened to him outline her patient’s condition with a boyish charm that she hadn’t expected. What she found even more intriguing was the way he smiled and laughed with the person at the other end. He looked younger, more relaxed, and less like a man who carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders.

  It didn’t help to remember just how wonderful those same shoulders felt.

  Neither did it help to remember that he’d visited with her last night in the same easy tone he was using now. For a while, she’d thought he’d stay longer, perhaps even share dinner with her, but he’d suddenly closed himself off. At first she’d been afraid she’d said something wrong, but for the life of her she couldn’t imagine what it might have been. They’d discussed their families and her holiday schedule, none of which should have set his guard in place.

  It was almost as if he’d forgotten she was Ned’s cousin and her reason for being in Hope, but once he’d remembered he’d scrambled to place as much distance between them as possible. She should be grateful he was willing to let her fill in for Ned and, though she found his conditions completely unnecessary, she wouldn’t complain. If she discovered that Ned’s circumstances had prevented him from returning, she wouldn’t have to defend him. Mark might be a hard task-master, but he was a fair man, and as such, he’d do the right thing when the time came.

  “I knew I could count on you,” he told Mary, sounding as pleased as he looked. “You’re a sweetheart.”

  He fell silent as he listened, then laughed. “OK, Valentine’s dinner is on me, but you need to make the reservations.”

  He was already making a date for Valentine’s Day? It shouldn’t bother her to know that he had someone special to take out on that night, but it did.

  You’re pathetic, Dixie, she told herself. Mooning over a man who had to be blackmailed in order to hire her had to rank as one of the lowest points in her life.

  He replaced the receiver, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s all set. Joey has a bed.”

  Dixie forced her thoughts onto her patient and not her colleague. If he wanted to charm the entire nursing staff, that was certainly his prerogative.

  “She knows that he probably has RSV?” she persisted. “They’re not going to assign him to a room with another child, are they?” The virus was highly contagious and it would defeat their purpose if he and his fellow occupant passed their germs back and forth.

  “This isn’t Mary’s first day on the job. She knows what she’s doing and, yes, it’s a private room.”

  Even her name sounded young and pretty. Why couldn’t she have been a Matilda or a Mabel?

  Dixie struggled to her feet, determined to spend the rest of the afternoon at her end of the hall. She’d come to Hope to look for Ned, not to become jealous over a woman who would remain long after she herself had left. “Great. Thanks so much,” she said politely.

  “Any time. By the way, Jane tells me that because of you, we might be able to have lunch today.”

  She stopped short. “She said that?”

  “Yeah. Miranda agreed. In fact, she gave me her I-told-you-so look right after she informed me that you were holding your own.”

  Their praise was more than Dixie had expected and, at the moment, exactly what her fragile ego needed. “I’m glad they think so. I’m not quite as fast with my knee like it is…”

  “Whatever you do, don’t overdo things. You’re supposed to be recuperating, not working.”

  “I am. Recuperating, that is.”

  “Good. So how about lunch? There’s a good sou
p and sandwich place a few blocks away.”

  With thoughts of Mary still lingering, Dixie shook her head. “I’ll pass. I have a list of phone calls to make.”

  “About Ned?”

  “I thought I’d call the cleaning services to find out if he’s one of their clients.”

  He nodded. “OK. Maybe another day.”

  Fat chance! “Sure,” she said, determined to pack her own lunch from then on.

  Dixie headed down the hallway and stopped at the room that served as Miranda’s office, their lab, and general all-purpose room. “How did Joey’s test turn out?”

  “Positive,” Miranda said cheerfully. “Just like we thought. Did you arrange a bed for him?”

  “Dr Cameron did. He worked it out with someone named Mary.”

  Miranda snapped her fingers. “Of course. I forgot she was working today.”

  Then, because she couldn’t stop herself, Dixie said, “They must be good friends. He’s planning to take her to dinner on Valentine’s Day.”

  The nurse chuckled. “My sister loves to eat out. He’d better be careful or she’ll set up a blind date for him.”

  Dixie had only heard two words. “Your sister?”

  “My older sister, although she doesn’t like it when I tell people that.”

  A sheepish warmth spread over Dixie’s face. “I never would have guessed. They sounded so…”

  “Friendly?” At Dixie’s reluctant nod, Miranda explained. “When Mark first came to town, he rented one of my brother-in-law’s properties and Mary took him under her wing.” Her wide smile didn’t hide her intent gaze. “Did you think there was something going on between them?”

  Dixie shrugged helplessly and tried to stop the embarrassing flush crawl up her neck. “I didn’t know. It certainly sounded as if it was possible.”

  Miranda chuckled. “You don’t need to worry. Dr Cameron hasn’t been linked to anyone since he moved here three years ago. If you’re interested, the field’s wide open.” She winked.

  “Who said I was interested?”

  “Nobody. Just thought I’d share the information.”

  Curiosity ate at her. “What happened three years ago?”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to tell you,” the older woman said slowly. “It certainly isn’t a secret.

  “He was head over heels in love with a woman who we all thought was his perfect match. He’d shown me the ring he’d bought her and, let me tell you, you practically needed sunglasses to look at it because the diamond was that big.”

  “What went wrong?”

  “She had a gambling problem and apparently thought that marrying a doctor was the perfect way to support her habit. She admitted to searching him out for that reason. Needless to say, the ring went back to the jeweler and he never saw her again.”

  “How awful.”

  “He took the news hard and started working night and day. We finally convinced him to take a vacation last summer, but on the way back his plane crashed. He and the other doctors from town who were on board were hurt and one was killed.”

  Dixie wondered if that accounted for the faint scars on his face.

  “After that,” Miranda continued, “he decided that he should slow down, so he hired Ned.” She sighed. “Sadly, that hasn’t worked out too well. I don’t mean to speak ill of your cousin, but Ned is as impulsive as Mark is cautious. I’ve never seen a young man weigh his options as much as Mark does.”

  Dixie thought that unusual and she said so. “How does he manage to treat his patients?”

  “Believe me, when it comes to medicine, he doesn’t falter a bit. Personal matters are another story. Dr Cameron will never admit this, but I think he’s lost confidence in his ability to judge character.”

  “So he waits and watches.”

  “Unless he’s forced between a rock and a hard place.”

  “Which is the only reason he hired me.”

  Miranda patted her arm. “Don’t take it personally. He’s glad to have you here. He just doesn’t want to confess it yet. If he seems a bit moody at times, ignore him. After he mulls over everything long enough, he comes round. He always does.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  “Any time.” Miranda glanced at the clock. “We’ve cleared out the masses, so you’d better grab lunch while you can. It’s hard to say what this afternoon will bring.”

  Dixie didn’t need a second warning. She headed for her temporary office, dug the phone book and a bottle of water out of the desk drawer and began her search of the Yellow Pages.

  Mark leaned against the doorframe of Dixie’s office and watched her as she spoke on the telephone. He could have waltzed in and sat down—her open door suggested that she wasn’t having a private conversation—but he didn’t mind waiting where he could enjoy the view.

  Her white lab coat was crisp and neat and covered a pink blouse and navy skirt. Her short hair looked mussed, as if she’d run her hands through it a time or two.

  Her voice was low and melodic and encouraging enough to inspire confidences. Yet, from the small wrinkle on her forehead and the way she rubbed the bridge of her nose, she wasn’t hearing anything noteworthy.

  When he’d left the building some twenty minutes ago, she’d been on the phone, too. Either Hope had far more cleaning services than he knew about or she’d discovered a number of leads and was checking them out with all the tenacity of a skilled do-or-die private investigator.

  She’d surprised him in more ways than one, if the truth were known. He’d expected her to pursue the goal of locating Ned with single-minded determination and to the exclusion of all else. He’d never dreamed that she’d place the medical demands of this practice above her own, neither had he imagined that she’d care enough about his caseload to take on as many patients as she had this morning. Part of him had assumed she’d see a few token patients or cherry-pick those who had the greatest odds of knowing her cousin on a personal basis, but she’d done neither.

  She’d taken each person in the order he or she had arrived and had only bypassed those who had specifically requested to see him. Mark knew that because Jane had volunteered the information and Miranda had corroborated it, although she’d done so after scolding him for leaving his new partner to sink or swim on her own. Of course, Miranda had also delighted in informing him that Dixie had functioned far better than he had on his first day.

  If that weren’t enough to impress him, knowing that she’d chosen to conduct her amateur investigation on her time and not his did. She may be related to Ned, but she certainly didn’t seem to share her cousin’s work ethic.

  Mark’s cynical nature knew that Dixie could simply be trying to get on his good side, but the idea didn’t quite match with what he’d observed so far. As much as he wanted to believe that she was exactly as she appeared—conscientious and responsible—he refused to accept one morning’s actions as an accurate indicator of her character. If she was as reliable as she wanted him to believe, she’d continue in the same vein throughout the rest of her time in Hope.

  Idly, he glanced around the room and noticed that, other than being neat, she hadn’t left her stamp on her surroundings. She hadn’t even brought in a personal coffee-mug—he recognized the one on her desk as a spare they kept for special visitors. Everything in the room remained as it had before she’d arrived, although she’d moved her in-basket from the left- to the right-hand side of the desk.

  The absence of food wrappers, Cellophane, crackers, or other munchies indicated that she hadn’t taken time for lunch—and she probably hadn’t considered it either. The only sign of her activities over the last twenty minutes was a yellow legal pad sporting a long list of names with most of them crossed out and a half a page of doodles.

  Her slumped shoulders as she slipped the receiver back in its cradle suggested that she’d hit another dead end.

  Taking his cue, he straightened and walked in. “Any luck?” he asked as he placed the sacks of his take-out meal
on the edge of the desk.

  She drew a line through another name and sighed. “Plenty. The problem is, it’s all bad.”

  “Ned didn’t hire any of the usual companies?”

  Tossing her pencil on the pad, she rubbed the back of her neck. “Apparently not.”

  He pulled the straight-back chair out of the corner and positioned it so he faced her across her desk. “That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a cleaning lady, though. Lots of women work independently. He may have hired someone like that.”

  “I’m already checking out some of those.” Her smile was rueful. “As you can see from my list, I’m having the same kind of luck. None.”

  “I wouldn’t worry. If this person cleans on a regular basis, you’ll run into her now that you’re living in his house.”

  “Not if she works while I’m here,” she reminded him.

  He dug the cartons out of the sack and placed them in a neat row. “So leave a note. If nothing else, she’ll have to contact you at some point if she wants to get paid.”

  Her face lit up. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.” Suddenly her eyes narrowed as she focused on the plastic spoon and napkin he’d slid in her direction. “What are you doing?”

  “Serving lunch.”

  “But I said I’d—”

  “Pass,” he quoted her. “I know. I heard you.”

  “Then why this?”

  “You didn’t pack a lunch. We also don’t have anything to eat here unless you consider microwave popcorn a major food group. If you want enough energy to work here and still hunt for Ned, you can’t run on empty.” He hefted an oblong box in each hand. “Ham or turkey?”

  “Turkey.”

  He passed it to her. “Potato soup or cream of broccoli?”

  “The broccoli, please. It’s my favorite.”

  He grinned as he slid the carton in front of her. “I thought it might be. Dig in.”

  At first she hesitated, then began eating with more gusto. “First breakfast and now this. You’re going to spoil me.”

  He shrugged, unwilling to place too much emphasis on his early morning decision to provide breakfast. His craving for donuts and orange juice had had nothing to do with the vision of her empty refrigerator, or so he’d told himself. As for spoiling her, he doubted if her family had ever considered returning any of the so-called favors they demanded of her.