Dedicated Lady

by Gill Sanderson

Genres: Romance; Contemporary Romance; Medical Romance; Workplace Romance

Synopsis

Outback doctor and bubbly free spirit Dr Lucy Brett devotes her days to saving children?s lives and her spare nights, to tirelessly fundraising for medical charities. It?s a challenging role, but nothing she can?t handle...until she meets her gorgeous new colleague, Australian Dr Graham Woods! Lucy?s warmth and zest for life are irresistible, but Gray knows he must resist ? what future can they have when he has so little to offer... But Lucy isn?t about to let go ? she?s determined to make the brooding doctor understand that she?s the woman to give him everything he?s ever wanted!

Release date: March 25, 2014

Publisher: Accent Press

Print pages: 142

Sample

Chapter One

MEDICINE? thought Gray Woods. Is this medicine? I have studied, learned and trained for thirteen years, since I was eighteen. I am now a specialist registrar in Paediatric Oncology, known and respected – I hope and think – by my colleagues. Papers I have written have been published in medical and scientific journals. Doctors come to listen to me when I lecture. So what am I doing here? A breeze blew across the playing field, and he shivered. ʻItʼs cold, isnʼt it?ʼ he asked the man sitting next to him.

The man blinked. ʻWell, I would have said it was quite warm for October,ʼ he said. ʻOf course, if youʼre not used to British weather …ʼ

Gray thought back bitterly to a fortnight ago. He had been thousands of miles away, playing beach tennis. Every fifteen minutes, both teams had dashed into the sea to cool off, it had been fun. Not like this.

ʻYour turn, Dr Woods,ʼ the attendant said with a happy smile. ʻNo oneʼs managed it yet, good luck.ʼ

Gray stood, and tried to work up some enthusiasm. Once he had been an international class athlete, so what was this but a different form of athletics? Where was his sense of humour? Perhaps he was still jet-lagged.

He was wearing a tall pink hat, and had a matching pink false nose tied onto his face. Thick braces held a hoop round his middle, and from it hung pink and white striped trousers. It looked as if he had a sixty-inch waist. It wasnʼt the most elegant he had ever looked.

He was helped up a ladder onto a narrow plank, where five feet below him was a tub filled with revolting-looking green gunge. Somewhere a bell sounded, and there was a roar of applause. Arms spread wide, he started to inch his way along the plank. Suddenly it hit him, that combination of nervousness and exhilaration that he had used to feel immediately before a race. No one yet had managed to get to the other side. But he was going to!

The opposing team was all female, dressed as elves, in pointy hats, false ears and skimpy costumes. Most seemed to have been soaked in some earlier game, for their costumes were stuck to them. They seemed attractive girls, he thought, probably nurses.

The elvesʼ job was to stop him, knock him off the plank into the gunge by throwing great balls of foam at him. He thought that, although large, the balls would be of negligible weight. But then the first one hit him, and to a roar from the crowd he nearly fell in. Waving his arms frantically, he managed to get back his balance. The foam balls were heavier than he had thought.

Now he knew what to expect. The next two balls he managed to duck, the third he saw coming and deliberately leaned into, knocking it down onto the gunge below. Then he teetered a few more steps. He was getting the idea; his reflexes were as good as ever. He dodged or pushed away a further three balls.

He was nearer the elves now, their aim was better and the balls hit him with more force. Making progress was getting harder. But he was going to make it. The determination that once made him a top athlete was surfacing again. He remembered the words of his old coach – if youʼre not going out there to win, why bother going out there at all?

The little platform that was his goal was now quite close. The elves were throwing at almost point-blank range, and the balls hurt. He ducked one, turned side-ways to keep his balance, then twisted to run the last three steps that would lead him to safety. And there facing him was a very wet elf. She was standing on the plank in front of him, arms raised, holding a ball over her head. Surely this was against the rules? A tiny part of his mind registered how attractive the elf was. She was taller than average, with long, long legs; her breasts were clearly outlined against the stretched wet fabric of her shirt. And she was laughing at him! He tried to shout that this wasnʼt fair, when the ball hit him in the chest. He slipped, teetered again, and fell head first into the green gunge below.

It was as cold, wet, sticky and disgusting as it looked.

He surfaced, climbed to his feet and saw the elf above him, pointing and laughing. She thinks she is far out of reach, he thought. Out of reach of a normal man, but heʼd been an athlete who could jump.

He crouched, leaped, one hand caught the plank and the other reached for her ankle. He caught the ankle, twisted. It was some distance for her to fall, and he didnʼt want her to get hurt so he contrived to get underneath her. With a tremendous splat they fell into the gunge together.

They both knelt up together, and he helped her to her feet. They were both covered with green. He couldnʼt help himself – he pulled her sticky face to him and kissed her. The two of them stared at each other, speechless.

There was a cheer from the crowd, and the flash of cameras. He lifted his arms up, as he had used to do when he had won a race. Then he felt her foot hook behind his ankle and pull forward. He fell back into the gunge again. Then there was the same foot on his chest, pushing him down. This little elf liked winning just as much as he did!

He did manage to struggle to his feet, and in fact the elf helped him. ʻAre you all right?ʼ she asked sweetly. ʻNot swallowed too much? Shall I send for a stomach pump?ʼ

ʻIf youʼre the nurse thatʼs going to operate it, then no, thanks. Anyway, wasnʼt it against the rules for you to be on that plank?ʼ

ʻProbably,ʼ she said, without much apparent guilt. ʻBut you did a lovely fall, and itʼs all in aid of charity. You didnʼt really mind, did you?ʼ

ʻNot really. Not if you didnʼt mind my kissing you.ʼ

ʻI didnʼt mind at all, it was all in aid of charity.ʼ He wondered what sheʼd look like if she werenʼt dressed as a wet elf.

Her friends were calling her now. ʻCome on, Lucy, weʼve got to go over to living chess.ʼ She turned to struggle out of the tank. A voice called him, too. ʻYou did best of all on the plank, Dr Woods. But now youʼre wanted for the back of the elephant.ʼ

He would have liked another couple of words with the elf, but she had gone.

The rest of the afternoon was equally full. After being the hind legs of an elephant that had to run an obstacle course, he played another three games. He enjoyed himself, for some of the tasks he was given needed surprising skill. He jousted with a rubber spear, tried to stay on top of a giant ball, wriggled through plastic tunnels. Competing again was fun – heʼd forgotten the adrenaline rush.

For most of the time his mind was firmly fixed on the games, but he was aware of lots of spectators, of press and TV photographers. The charity should be making plenty of money, and he was glad, for it was the aim of the afternoon.

He didnʼt see the elves again.

By the end of the afternoon he was weary. He trudged back to the communal changing rooms. Outside he met Melissa Yates, the neurology registrar who had talked him into taking part.

ʻGray, you did so well,ʼ she told him. ʻI was watching you – it was easy to see you were a trained athlete.ʼ

ʻThereʼs no training to fit you to be the back of an elephant,ʼ he told her. ʻIʼve got aches where I didnʼt know I had muscles.ʼ

ʻYouʼll feel better after a hot shower. Now Iʼve got to spend an hour or so with the organisers, but we think weʼve done rather well, made plenty of money. Afterwards a group of us are meeting in the doctorsʼ lounge for a bit of a party – youʼll come, wonʼt you?ʼ

ʻIʼd love to but …ʼ A vast weariness fell on him. He knew what it was, of course: jet lag. If he did go to the party heʼd only fall asleep. ʻItʼs only three days since I arrived from Australia,ʼ he said ruefully, ʻand Iʼm feeling the strain a bit. I guess Iʼd better just go to bed.ʼ

ʻAnd you said youʼre on call tomorrow. Dʼyou want me to phone your consultant? See if you can have tomorrow morning off?ʼ

ʻNever! Iʼm here to work. Seriously, Melissa, Iʼll be all right, Iʼll just take a taxi home.ʼ

He had a quick shower in the changing rooms, then took a taxi back to the hospital and treated himself to a long, relaxing bath. It was Saturday night, so not a lot of people were staying in. He made himself a cheese sandwich, a large mug of cocoa and went back to his room. Once there he poured a large tot of duty-free brandy into the cocoa. That should help him sleep! But, of course, he didnʼt sleep. He was jet-lagged, typically he felt weary, but couldnʼt sleep. He lay on his bed and thought about the last couple of days. So much had happened, so much to remember.

His room here in the hospital was fine. He liked living on top of the job, and, since he was only here for six months, there was no point in looking for a flat. He knew he was going to enjoy the work – Lizzieʼs was famous as a paediatric hospital, and the oncology consultant, his immediate boss Adam Harrison, had an international reputation. Gray was here to work and learn, and he knew heʼd learn a lot from Adam. For a while he thought about the next six months, questions he wanted answering, research projects he needed to check.

And heʼd enjoyed today. Once heʼd got used to the cold, it had been fine. It was just that first game – when heʼd been knocked into the green gunge by that elf. Perhaps she had bent the rules a little but he saw something of himself in her. A determination to get things done. And she had been so attractive – he thought. He frowned. He was here for six months, to learn and work. No time for frivolous diversions.

Such as elves? a voice in his brain asked. He drained his mug of cocoa, and reached up to put out the light.

He wasnʼt on duty, but he was on call. And next morning he was called over to the ward.

ʻJohn Ryan, get back in your bed or I will come down this ward and trimbouliate you! And the same goes for the rest of your little gang!ʼ

It was a female voice that could have been pleasant. But at the moment it was loud and stern and it clearly meant what it said. There was silence at first in Swallow Ward, and then the scurry of feet.

Outside the ward Gray looked at ward sister Lisa Fletcher. ʻWho was that?ʼ he asked. ʻAnd what does trimbouliate mean?ʼ

Lisa looked up at him blandly. ʻThat is one of our two senior house officers, Dr Lucy Brett. You may make up your own mind about how good she is medically. But sheʼs the best disciplinarian weʼve ever had on the ward. And if trimbouliation keeps the kids as quiet as she does, then Iʼm all in favour of it.ʼ

Gray nodded. Paediatric wards took children of all ages up to sixteen. Sometimes controlling the older children could be a problem. They were bored, they often didnʼt feel ill, they just naturally got into mischief. And when there was more than one of them … if she could deal with this, then this doctor deserved respect

ʻDr Brett just phoned me,ʼ he said. ʻSheʼs a bit concerned about a Mary Peterson.ʼ

Lisa looked grave. ʻWeʼre all concerned. Dʼyou want me to come down and look at her with you?ʼ

He shook his head. ʻIʼm feeling my way here. Iʼd like to have a word with Dr Brett first.ʼ He pushed open the ward door, and saw a tallish female figure.

She had her back to him, and he saw dark trousers that emphasised long legs, with the bright-coloured tabard that so many doctors and nurses wore on paediatric wards. Her hair was dark, cut short.

ʻDr Brett?ʼ She turned. He had a swift impression of enormous grey eyes, with a cheerful smile. She was perhaps a bit older than the other SHO whom heʼd met two days before, who looked more like a schoolboy than a doctor. She wasnʼt dressed as an elf any more, but he recognised her at once. This was the girl who had knocked him into the green gunge, the girl he had dragged in, the girl he had kissed. His SHO! She recognised him at once too. He saw her initial shock, and then an impudent smile. ʻOh, dear! Did I push my specialist registrar into the evil green gunge – and when he was doing so well? Youʼll have to report me to the BMA!ʼ

Since Gray wanted to talk before examining Mary, Lucy took him into the doctorsʼ room. The desk at which she sat to do her interminable paperwork was already piled high. But that was for later. She poured two cups of the inevitable coffee. They sat at each side of the coffee-table and looked at each other with undisguised curiosity.

Now he was no longer dressed as a clown she saw that he was a … well, a personable man. He was wearing fawn trousers, with a white shirt, and she was glad he didnʼt look too formal. Not a good idea on a childrenʼs ward. His body looked very trim, athletic even – she remembered how he had leaped up to grab her ankle, when she wouldnʼt have thought it possible. His bronzed face was interesting rather than conventionally handsome, though there was a touch of sternness, almost bleakness about his eyes and lips.

She felt he wouldnʼt be a good man to cross. But his smile seemed friendly enough.

She would offer him an olive branch. ʻI hope I did no serious damage throwing you into the pool,ʼ she said. ʻI know I probably cheated, but …ʼ

ʻThe spectators liked it, so why not? That was the aim of the exercise

She liked this, and felt it was the right attitude. ʻIʼve been in touch with the organisers. We did well,ʼ she told him. ʻWe – and you helped – made a lot of money for the hospital charity.ʼ

ʻAsk me to help again,ʼ he told her.

Then he said nothing more. She found the silence, the level gaze, rather disturbing. She wanted to tell him more about the money they had raised, but didnʼt quite know how to do it. So she decided to stick to the matter in hand.

ʻI phoned you, Dr Woods,ʼ she started, ʻbecause …ʼ

He interrupted her. ʻCall me Gr. . .