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Synopsis
Thrilling tales of romantic suspense set in the emergency room and the hospital as a whole. These are romances which go beyond the classic doctor-nurse romances of yesteryear, having more in common with popular contemporary TV dramas such as House, ER, and Scrubs.
This is 'medical romance', reinvented for today with an invigorating injection of edgy modern romantic suspense by Janice Lynn, Dianne Drake, Wendy S. Marcus, Fiona Lowe, Jacqueline Diamond and many more.
Release date: August 15, 2013
Publisher: Little, Brown Book Group
Print pages: 160
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The Mammoth Book of ER Romance
Trisha Telep
“The Nurse in Charge” © by Wendy S. Marcus. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“On the Road Again” © by Fiona Lowe. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Time Out” © by Anne Lucy Clark. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“The Promise” © by Sue MacKay. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Nurse Rachel’s White Knight” © by Janice Lynn. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Night Shift” © by Karen Campbell. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Wounded Heart” © by Cassandra Dean. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“In the Blink of an Eye” © by Janet Maarschalk. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“The Phoenix” © by Sam Bradley. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“No Place to Go” © by Dianne Drake. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Playing with Fire” © by Julie Rowe. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“To Look for You” © by Alina Sivorinovsky. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“What the Doctor Didn’t Tell Her” © by Jackie Diamond Hyman. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“The Baby Whisperer” © by Abbi Wilder. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Wake Me When It’s Over” © by Cynthia D’Alba. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Paging Dr Responsible” © by Patti Shenberger. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Together Forever” © by Tina Beckett. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
There’s something incredibly sexy about the Hippocratic oath.
Hospitals can be intensely emotional places. In the ER, that is virtually guaranteed. Victims of all stripes find their way into Emergency Rooms across the country, fleeing hurricanes, fires, and other natural – and not so natural – disasters. Reading through the heady mix of medical romance on offer in The Mammoth Book of ER Romance, it’s easy to see why so many readers and writers believe that medical professionals make better lovers. If it’s passion you’re looking for, then you’ve surely come to the right place. You’ll also get drive, dedication and determination thrown into the bargain for good measure with the men and women you’ll find in these pages. If that’s not a recipe for emotionally charged super romance, I don’t know what is. And isn’t it good to know that even if Cupid’s arrow causes some damage – which Cupid’s arrow is wont to do – they can always prescribe a little something to help with the heartache?
Falling in love at work is a hazard. Try organizing your love life between broken bones and surgical sutures and you’ll see how easy it is. Even transferring to a hospital halfway across the country won’t save you. You’ll only run into the ex-love of your life, the handsome, young doctor you never quite got over, and your heartbreak will start all over again. Shy residents lock eyes across lonely cafeterias in the dead of the night, both on their fifth cup of coffee during their third back-to-back shift. A doctor and a policewoman who meet frequently in his ER decide to take the next step while she guards a crucial wounded witness. A famous surgeon, back to woo an old flame, almost gets burned in the process.
It’s a chronic case of life and love, doctors and nurses, and those who adore them. If you’re already a lover of medical romance, you know it’s totally contagious and completely incurable. If you’re just taking a look at medical romance for the first time, you’re in for a comprehensive seventeen stories by way of introduction. Firmly in the foreground of many of the stories, and quietly in the background of others, the ER and the wider world of the hospital, all play a central part in these romantic stories. All feature heroes and heroines who have made medicine their business, and who must juggle medical responsibilities, and the odd romantic inclination, each and every day.
So call a code – for love!
The call came in at 8.42 p.m., two hours after Ruby Kendell – charge nurse in the Frost Community Hospital Emergency Department – had arrived at work for the third of three back-to-back twelve-hour night shifts she’d agreed to cover.
She returned the receiver to the console. Her heart stopped beating. Her lungs stopped breathing. The world stopped spinning. Snippets of her life flared up, taking over reality.
The most joyful day: When she’d given birth to her son Dillon.
The most emotionally painful day: When she’d watched Dillon’s dad, her first love, pack up and leave after choosing life on the road with his band over her and their infant son.
The most difficult day: When she’d left her six-week-old baby boy in the care of strangers at a daycare center for the first time – a single mother forced to return to work.
“You’re white as the walls,” the unit secretary noted. “What’s wrong?”
“Call the operator,” Ruby instructed, doing her best to remain calm. “Tell her code red.”
Pat’s eyes went wide on hearing the code for a major external disaster with a large number of casualties.
In a state of shock, she wondered how she’d look back on today – the day a tornado touched down at the local elementary school during bedtime stories with the principal, when students from kindergarten through third grade – her five-year-old son among them – gathered with their sleeping bags and favorite stuffies to listen to their beloved principal read to them.
Dillon had been so excited to attend.
Ruby pictured the large windows of the All Purpose Room shattering under the force of the high winds, turning shards of glass into lethal projectiles, impaling anyone in their path.
Ruby picked up the phone again and depressed the intercom button. “I need all staff at the desk. Code red.” All staff for a Friday night shift in their small hospital consisted of three nurses, one nurse’s aide, one doctor and one unit secretary. They were about to be overrun.
As her staff assembled, the operator’s voice came over the PA system. “Code red. Code red. All non-essential staff to the Emergency Department, stat.”
“What have we got?” Dr Johnson asked.
At least if she had to run a code red, she had a young, energetic, excellent clinician by her side.
“A tornado touched down outside the elementary school during an evening program,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, her tone moderated. She swallowed her fear, tamped down the desire to run to her car, speed to the scene and rescue her son. “Estimated fifty to seventy-five casualties.” The contents of her stomach started to churn. No one knew for sure how many children were in attendance and how many parents had remained on site. It’d be hours before all school staff, students and parents were accounted for.
“My God,” Sandy, one of the nurses said. “This is New York. We don’t get tornadoes here.”
Not big ones, no. But the occasional small tornado could still do plenty of damage.
Ruby took a deep breath. “The bridge over the river is inaccessible due to fallen trees and downed power lines—” making the next closest hospital unreachable by road “—and Stat Flight is grounded due to high winds. So we’re it.”
“Ruby,” Pat said from beside her. “Molly just called. Honey, you’d better sit down.”
Molly, Dillon’s best friend’s mother, had taken both boys to the school that evening. Ruby felt the blood drain from her body. She grabbed on to the counter for support. “Tell me.”
“Her son is in a full-blown asthma attack and they’re on the way to the hospital.” Ruby waited for the rest. “When the storm hit she got separated from Dillon. She said she tried to find him but—”
Ruby stopped listening. Visions bombarded her. Dillon, all alone in the dark, scared and cold on this frigid November night, maybe hurt and in pain, maybe dying, maybe hidden beneath a pile of rubble where no one knew to look for him. Suffering. Crying out for her.
A burning ache, like nothing she’d ever felt before, seared her heart.
Staff from other departments converged on the ER, and stood waiting for direction. From her. A mother in crisis. The nurse in charge. Which would take priority at this particular moment in time?
Luckily her disaster preparedness training kicked in. She looked at the night administrator. “I need a nurse on triage in the ER waiting room. Can you get me someone from pediatrics to help out?” She turned to the security guard. “Set up visitor screening in the main lobby. No one gets in until we call for them.” Luckily the nurse’s aide on duty tonight happened to be an EMT. “I need you on the radio, Jack,” to coordinate the ambulance arrivals, alert the staff about what to expect, and get Dr Johnson for in-transit consult if needed.
Maintenance got to work lining up extra stretchers and wheelchairs, which staff from housekeeping wiped down and covered with sheets.
“I paged respiratory therapy to be here for your friend’s son,” Pat said. “Now I’ll go down the on-call sheet and staff roster to see who I can get in here.”
“I’ll help,” a young unit secretary offered, hurrying behind the desk.
They’d all been trained to pitch in, go where you’re needed, and do what you’re told.
As everyone began to disperse, Ruby climbed onto a chair. “One more thing,” she yelled loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “If anyone comes across my son – Dillon Kendell, five years old, short dark hair, wearing Spider-Man pajamas – I want to be told immediately.”
One of the nurses sucked in a breath and brought her hand to her mouth. “Dillon’s there?”
All Ruby could do was nod. Helpless tears collected in her eyes. She blinked them away. A breakdown would not help Dillon or the dozens of patients who would soon be arriving.
Everyone stood still, watching her, waiting. “I have to believe he’s fine. And if he’s not, I have to have confidence that the school staff and our emergency responders will look after him and take good care of him. Just like all the other parents have to trust we’re going to take good care of their children when they get here. Now everyone get back to work so we’re ready. I’m in charge. All questions and problems come to me.”
As if on cue, the ambulance radio squawked to life with information on the first casualty en route. ETA – estimated time of arrival – six minutes, which didn’t give Ruby much time.
As she carefully got down from the chair, she said to Pat, “I need two minutes alone.” Then she hurried into the head nurse’s office and closed the door. Yes, she trusted the school staff and emergency responders to do their best. But Dillon needed someone on site to look for him and make sure he received prompt medical treatment if necessary.
And in her absence, the only person she’d trust with that responsibility was Brady.
Because in the year of their friendship turned kind-of relationship, he’d been reliable and supportive, caring and understanding, thoughtful and sweet, affectionate and . . . loving. A wonderful father figure for Dillon. A man Ruby never thought she’d be lucky enough to find – one who’d gotten her to let down her guard, one she could talk to for hours and trust with her son, one she loved in a best-friends-who-have-sex kind of way, one she could have maybe, possibly, at some point in the future, love in a till-death-do-us-part kind of way . . . at least she’d thought so until five days ago, when he’d gone and decided to do the one thing she feared most.
And, in true grown-up form, she’d been avoiding him and ignoring his attempts to contact her ever since.
Ruby picked up the phone and dialed his mobile with shaky hands. Would he even take her call?
As soon as he answered she blurted out, “It’s Ruby. Please don’t hang up.”
“I’d never hang up on you, Ruby,” he said quietly. So laid-back. So calm. The perfect counterpart to her high-strung, obsessive worrier.
“I know you’re busy packing.”
He said, “Packing was quick and easy and I’m done.” But instead she heard, Deciding to go was quick, leaving you is easy, and I’m done trying.
Could her heart handle any more devastation tonight? She’d agreed to switch from day shift to cover three nights in a row so she’d be too tired to think about him, too busy to track him down to beg him to stay, and too far away to watch him walk out of her life for good – in eight short hours.
Focus on Dillon. “I know whatever we had is over and—”
“I don’t want us to be over,” he said calmly.
No. He wanted her to sit at home with Dillon while he traveled the country with his band as the opening act on a national tour. He wanted her to wait for him, for four months, to dream about him and yearn for him to return to her. When she knew he wouldn’t be back.
Having spent the better part of her eighteenth and nineteenth years as a groupie on the concert circuit, she had intimate knowledge – intimate being the operative word – of what went on off-stage during tours. She understood the allure of that life, the strong pull. Heck, she’d already lost one love to it.
Falling for another musician was just plain stupid. Had she learned nothing from the heartbreak of loving Dillon’s dad? Apparently not, because once again, Ruby had allowed herself to be sweet-talked by a smooth voice, to fall under the spell of a song written and performed just for her, to get caught up in the creativity and talent and nights watching her man on stage. So cool, carefree and confident.
In her defense, the Brady she’d first met worked as a firefighter paramedic with county EMS – Emergency Medical Services, specializing in search and rescue. By the time she’d found out about his love of guitar and bi-weekly Saturday night gigs in local bars, she’d been too into him to think with a clear head. But all the clues had been there – the dark, wavy, chin-length hair and the way he dressed, his love of rock music, his excellent singing voice and expert knowledge of all the lyrics to songs on the radio.
She’d been distracted by his wit and kindness, by his body, his deep brown eyes and large hands. And the things he could do with that talented mouth and tongue of his . . .
Stop! “I didn’t call to talk about us. I need your help. Dillon needs you.”
“What’s wrong?” Mention of Dillon seemed to slap the calm right out of him. “What happened? Where is he?”
By the time Ruby finished explaining the situation, tears streamed down her cheeks and her breath came in choppy gasps. “And he’s . . . all . . . alone. And I’m . . . at work . . . and can’t leave.” She fought to catch her breath. “Oh God . . . Brady. What if he’s—”
“He’s not,” Brady said, so sure. Ruby wanted to believe him. “I can be at the school in five minutes.” A door slammed and he sounded like he was running. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll find him.”
Honey. “I know you will.” Because in all the time she’d known him, Brady always did what he said he’d do. Yet when he’d promised he’d be faithful, and call her every night, and return to her as soon as possible, she just couldn’t bring herself to believe him.
“You should probably wear your uniform or you won’t be able to get close to the school,” she said.
“I know everyone on the police force and in the fire department,” he said, breathing a little heavier. “If I don’t find him outside, I’ll get inside. And I will not stop looking for him until you tell me that he’s with you or I have him with me.”
Ruby inhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me.” Another door slammed, an engine turned over, and music started to play. “You and Dillon are the most important people in my life,” he said. “I’d do anything for you.”
Except stay.
An ambulance siren sounded. Someone knocked on her door. She told Brady, “I need to get back to work.”
“Try not to worry,” he said. “Dillon and I will see you soon.”
His confidence gave her hope.
But when forty-five minutes passed with no word from him, Ruby’s hope started to fade. She considered calling him but talked herself out of it. He’d call when he had a reason to call.
“Ruby,” Jack yelled for her.
She hurried back to the desk where he sat, his face tight with concern. Her lungs contracted.
“Ambulance on its way in with a young boy,” he said. “Crush injury. Unresponsive. Severe head and facial trauma. Unrecognizable.” His eyes met hers. “Short dark hair, wearing Spider-Man pajamas.”
Ruby’s world went quiet, her vision narrowed and she reached out to steady herself.
“You okay?” Jack’s words brought her back.
No. “Yeah.” He started to stand and she held up her hand to stop him. “I’m fine. Knowing is better than not knowing, right?” And Spider-Man pajamas were pretty popular which meant there was 50–50 chance it wasn’t Dillon. “Let’s put him in trauma two, bed one.” No matter whose little boy he turned out to be, Ruby would take good care of him.
She went from room to room until she found Dr Johnson talking to a group of parents. Ruby waited in the doorway and as soon as he finished she pulled him aside. “Major trauma on the way, I’d like you to take it.”
Other doctors had arrived to help, but she knew Dr Johnson and trusted him.
“Is it your son?” he asked.
“Not sure.” But as the ambulance’s siren grew louder, Ruby ran to meet it.
Brady Rodger cradled Ruby’s son on his lap in the front seat of the ambulance, his little body enveloped in Brady’s jacket so entirely that not even his feet were showing. He held him close to stabilize him against the bumpy road, to warm him, and comfort him as the wind howled outside and rain pelted the windshield.
Dillon let out a weak moan.
“Hang in there, champ,” Brady said, maintaining pressure on the bandage covering the boy’s forehead laceration. “We’re almost to the hospital where your mom is waiting for you.” Probably going out of her mind with worry, since due to the weather and widespread power outages he hadn’t been able to get a cell signal to call her.
Dillon moaned again, turned his head toward Brady’s chest and vomited. “It’s okay.” He shifted Dillon in his arms to elevate his head and tilt him forward so he wouldn’t choke. “It’s going to be okay.” He wiped Dillon’s mouth with his sleeve.
“Good call not waiting around for another ambulance to return,” his buddy Tyler said as he drove. “That’s three times. He’s got a concussion for sure.”
Please let that be the worst of it. Please don’t let there be an intracranial hematoma or hemorrhage or irreversible damage to the brain. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. God help him, he’d turned into a worrier, just like Ruby. Her words echoed in his head, That’s what happens when you become a parent.
No, he wasn’t a name-on-the-birth-certificate parent, but no father could care more for his child than Brady cared for Dillon. And no father could love the mother of his child more than Brady loved Ruby.
And even though she’d never said the words and insisted on referring to their relationship as nothing more than best friends who have sex, he knew she’d grown to love him, to depend on him and value him as more than a friend. Unfortunately, not enough to overcome her fear that at some point he would leave her and never come back. Not enough to let him spend more than a few hours in her bed or to participate in a discussion about a more permanent arrangement like them living together or getting engaged or married.
And at thirty years old, Brady had lived alone long enough. He wanted more than snippets of family life by invitation only.
Tyler turned into the hospital’s parking lot. “Good thing they have power.”
Damn good thing.
As Tyler maneuvered to back into the ambulance bay, Brady caught a glimpse of Ruby, pacing on the sidewalk. “There’s your mom,” he said to Dillon. “Wake up, Dill Pickle.” He gently shook his boy bundle.
Dillon moaned.
“You got him?” Tyler opened the door, no doubt in a hurry to assist in the unload of the critical patient in the back.
“Yup. Go do what you have to do.” Brady then turned his attention back to Dillon. “You need to talk to me.” He patted the boy’s cheek. “Wake up and talk to me.”
Dillon kept his eyes closed and said, “No.”
It was a response. And thank God for that.
Brady made sure he had a good hold on Dillon before he opened the door and climbed down, expecting Ruby to charge in his direction. Only she didn’t. And when he walked to the back of the ambulance, he found the sidewalk empty. So he carried Dillon to the electric doors, made it through the first set but was stopped from entering the Emergency Department by a huge security guard who stood in front of the second set of doors. “You can’t come in here.” He pointed down the walkway. “All patients need to be triaged first.”
“Please get Ruby Kendell.” He held up Dillon. “Tell her Brady’s here and her son needs medical attention.”
“Light hurts,” Dillon said, burying his face in Brady’s chest.
“Nice try,” the guard said. “Ruby’s son was just brought in. Now if you’d—”
“No I won’t,” Brady said. “Ruby,” he yelled as loud as he could.
“Ow,” Dillon whined.
“Sorry, champ,” he apologized and yelled again. “Ruby, I have Dillon.” The guard took a threatening step forward. “Don’t.” Brady stood tall and used his six-foot-two-inch height and solid build to threaten him right back. “There’s obviously been a mistake because I am holding Ruby’s son in my arms. If you’d just get her . . .”
“Brady?” Ruby stood frozen in the hallway behind the security guard, her dark bangs and shoulder-length hair framing her pale face, her green eyes staring up at him.
He imagined what he must look like, filthy from searching through rubble, sopping wet from the rain, stained with blood and vomit, holding Dillon’s limp body in his arms. “He’s got a head wound. He’s lethargic but arousable.” Brady gave her the most important information first.
“That’s Dillon?” She glanced over the guard’s shoulder. “You’re sure?”
He nodded. “I found him with three other children up on the stage. A rack of musical instruments fell on top of them. Questionable loss of consciousness,” Brady said, keeping his voice calm, taking a step around the security guard. “Sensitive to light. Complained of head pain twice. Vomited three times.”
With tears in her eyes and her fist clutched to her chest, Ruby whispered, “He’s alive.”
“Yes, honey. He’s alive. But he needs a CT scan and some stitches and a good once-over by your best doc.” He tapped Dillon’s shoulder. “Wake up and show your mom you’re okay.”
“Mom?” Dillon asked, his hoarse voice little more than a whisper, but enough to jolt Ruby into action.
“Yes, sweetie.” She hurried forward and bent over to kiss Dillon’s cheek. “Mommy’s right here and I’m going to take good care of you.” Carefully she lifted the dressing covering Dillon’s laceration.
“Brady found me,” Dillon said quietly.
“I knew he would,” she said with a smile and a look of appreciation he’d never forget.
A woman in a colorful top and navy scrub pants that matched Ruby’s came up beside them. “Private three is open and ready.”
Ruby turned to the woman. “Would you cover for me in trauma two, bed one? I was on my way to get warm blankets.”
“Of course.” The woman hurried away.
“That poor boy,” she mumbled then looked up at Brady. “I thought he might be Dillon. Same pajamas.” She started to cry. “Thank you.” She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.” She jumped back. “You’re soaked and freezing.” She looked down. “Because you gave your jacket to Dillon. Come.” She put her hand on his lower back and guided him to a room. “Sit.” She pushed down on his shoulders. “Let me get you both some warm blankets and dry clothes.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Brady said. “Take care of Dillon.” Dillon had to come first, had to be okay.
Gently she set her palm to his cheek. He leaned into her touch, had missed her so much these past five days. Going on the road without her was going to be brutal. “You know I am quite the proficient multitasker,” she said. “And I can take care of both of you just as easily as I can take care of one of you.” This was his Ruby, so caring, so capable. She pressed her lips to his in a kiss filled with tenderness and love. “I’ll be right back.”
If he didn’t have his arms filled with Dillon he would have used them to pull her close, to remind her of the months of love they’d shared, of what she’d given up so easily.
Fight for me. Fight for us.
But his arms were full, so all he could do was sit there as she stepped back and left the room.
He gave Dillon’s shoulder a shake. “Wake up, buddy.”
Dillon responded with a moan.
“Not good enough. Talk to me. What’s your name?” he asked, trying to determine his level of orientation.
“You know my name,” he mumbled.
“I know I know it, but do you know it?”
“Dill Pickle,” he said with a tiny hint of a smile.
Brady smiled too. “That’s right. You’re my Dill Pickle.” He hugged the boy he’d grown to love as his own, and sent up a prayer that his plan would work, that not having Brady readily available would force Ruby to recognize how much a part of their life he’d become. Hopefully she’d miss him and find a way to conquer her fear of relationships so they could be together, a real committed couple, when he came home.
And he planned to make good use of his time away to prove he’d follow through on his promise to call her every night. Hopefully, nightly phone sex would convince her she was the only woman for him. But, most of all, he wanted to show her that when he gave his word he’d come back, he’d come back.
In typical organized, efficient Ruby style, it didn’t take her long to return with her arms loaded down with towels, a pair of scrubs for him, warm blankets, a suture kit, an electronic thermometer and a laptop. A man in blue scrubs and a white lab coat followed right behind her.
“Dr Johnson, this is my . . .” She hesitated. “My . . .”
“Her boyfriend,” Brady finished her sentence for her because in his heart that’s what he was. A little disagreement, or even a big one, or a couple of hundred miles of distance between them, wouldn’t change the way he felt about her. “I’d shake your hand but . . .” He looked down at Dillon.
“I understand you were a paramedic with the fire department,” Dr Johnson said while he examined Dillon’s head.
“I am a paramedic with the fire department.” He looked up at Ruby who looked away. “I took a leave of absence to help out some buddies of mine, but the town is holding my job for me. The woman I love is here. I will definitely be coming back.”
Dr Johnson looked back and forth between them. “All righty then. Let’s get him up on the stretcher.”
Brady stood, carried Dillon to the stretcher, and carefully put him down. “Wake up, Dill. Doctor’s here to take a look at you.”
Dillon tried to open his eyes then squeezed them shut and winced. “Hurts.”
Brady shielded him from the overhead light while he gave Dr Johnson his report, informing him of everything that happened from the time he uncovered Dillon under a pile of band instruments to his arrival at the hospital. The doc did a very thorough exam – under Ruby’s watchful eye he’d be a fool not to. Dr Johnson asked Dillon questions and gave him commands to which the boy responded and moved appropriately.
And Brady finally started to relax.
“Let’s get him over for a CT scan and then I’ll stitch him up,” said Dr Johnson, using a stylus to enter information into his laptop. With a smile and a “nice to meet you”, he left the room.
Someone knocked on the door. Ruby opened it. An older woman stood there. “I’m sorry to bother you but Jack has a cardiac arrest on the way in and we’re out of beds. A few parents are creating problems in the waiting room and we’re out of suture kits.”
Ruby looked back at Dillon, obviously torn between staying by her son’s side and doing her job. “Go,” Brady said. “I’ll stay with him. Any change and I’ll find you.”
“Thank you,” Ruby said, closing the door behind her. A few seconds later it opened and Ruby stuck her head in. “I forgot to mention.” She looked him up and down. “There’s something oddly attractive about a man covered in vomit who’s so concerned about my son he doesn’t care that he’s covered in vomit.”
Brady smiled. “The strangest
“On the Road Again” © by Fiona Lowe. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Time Out” © by Anne Lucy Clark. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“The Promise” © by Sue MacKay. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Nurse Rachel’s White Knight” © by Janice Lynn. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Night Shift” © by Karen Campbell. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Wounded Heart” © by Cassandra Dean. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“In the Blink of an Eye” © by Janet Maarschalk. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“The Phoenix” © by Sam Bradley. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“No Place to Go” © by Dianne Drake. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Playing with Fire” © by Julie Rowe. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“To Look for You” © by Alina Sivorinovsky. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“What the Doctor Didn’t Tell Her” © by Jackie Diamond Hyman. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“The Baby Whisperer” © by Abbi Wilder. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Wake Me When It’s Over” © by Cynthia D’Alba. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Paging Dr Responsible” © by Patti Shenberger. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
“Together Forever” © by Tina Beckett. First publication, original to this anthology. Printed by permission of the author.
There’s something incredibly sexy about the Hippocratic oath.
Hospitals can be intensely emotional places. In the ER, that is virtually guaranteed. Victims of all stripes find their way into Emergency Rooms across the country, fleeing hurricanes, fires, and other natural – and not so natural – disasters. Reading through the heady mix of medical romance on offer in The Mammoth Book of ER Romance, it’s easy to see why so many readers and writers believe that medical professionals make better lovers. If it’s passion you’re looking for, then you’ve surely come to the right place. You’ll also get drive, dedication and determination thrown into the bargain for good measure with the men and women you’ll find in these pages. If that’s not a recipe for emotionally charged super romance, I don’t know what is. And isn’t it good to know that even if Cupid’s arrow causes some damage – which Cupid’s arrow is wont to do – they can always prescribe a little something to help with the heartache?
Falling in love at work is a hazard. Try organizing your love life between broken bones and surgical sutures and you’ll see how easy it is. Even transferring to a hospital halfway across the country won’t save you. You’ll only run into the ex-love of your life, the handsome, young doctor you never quite got over, and your heartbreak will start all over again. Shy residents lock eyes across lonely cafeterias in the dead of the night, both on their fifth cup of coffee during their third back-to-back shift. A doctor and a policewoman who meet frequently in his ER decide to take the next step while she guards a crucial wounded witness. A famous surgeon, back to woo an old flame, almost gets burned in the process.
It’s a chronic case of life and love, doctors and nurses, and those who adore them. If you’re already a lover of medical romance, you know it’s totally contagious and completely incurable. If you’re just taking a look at medical romance for the first time, you’re in for a comprehensive seventeen stories by way of introduction. Firmly in the foreground of many of the stories, and quietly in the background of others, the ER and the wider world of the hospital, all play a central part in these romantic stories. All feature heroes and heroines who have made medicine their business, and who must juggle medical responsibilities, and the odd romantic inclination, each and every day.
So call a code – for love!
The call came in at 8.42 p.m., two hours after Ruby Kendell – charge nurse in the Frost Community Hospital Emergency Department – had arrived at work for the third of three back-to-back twelve-hour night shifts she’d agreed to cover.
She returned the receiver to the console. Her heart stopped beating. Her lungs stopped breathing. The world stopped spinning. Snippets of her life flared up, taking over reality.
The most joyful day: When she’d given birth to her son Dillon.
The most emotionally painful day: When she’d watched Dillon’s dad, her first love, pack up and leave after choosing life on the road with his band over her and their infant son.
The most difficult day: When she’d left her six-week-old baby boy in the care of strangers at a daycare center for the first time – a single mother forced to return to work.
“You’re white as the walls,” the unit secretary noted. “What’s wrong?”
“Call the operator,” Ruby instructed, doing her best to remain calm. “Tell her code red.”
Pat’s eyes went wide on hearing the code for a major external disaster with a large number of casualties.
In a state of shock, she wondered how she’d look back on today – the day a tornado touched down at the local elementary school during bedtime stories with the principal, when students from kindergarten through third grade – her five-year-old son among them – gathered with their sleeping bags and favorite stuffies to listen to their beloved principal read to them.
Dillon had been so excited to attend.
Ruby pictured the large windows of the All Purpose Room shattering under the force of the high winds, turning shards of glass into lethal projectiles, impaling anyone in their path.
Ruby picked up the phone again and depressed the intercom button. “I need all staff at the desk. Code red.” All staff for a Friday night shift in their small hospital consisted of three nurses, one nurse’s aide, one doctor and one unit secretary. They were about to be overrun.
As her staff assembled, the operator’s voice came over the PA system. “Code red. Code red. All non-essential staff to the Emergency Department, stat.”
“What have we got?” Dr Johnson asked.
At least if she had to run a code red, she had a young, energetic, excellent clinician by her side.
“A tornado touched down outside the elementary school during an evening program,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, her tone moderated. She swallowed her fear, tamped down the desire to run to her car, speed to the scene and rescue her son. “Estimated fifty to seventy-five casualties.” The contents of her stomach started to churn. No one knew for sure how many children were in attendance and how many parents had remained on site. It’d be hours before all school staff, students and parents were accounted for.
“My God,” Sandy, one of the nurses said. “This is New York. We don’t get tornadoes here.”
Not big ones, no. But the occasional small tornado could still do plenty of damage.
Ruby took a deep breath. “The bridge over the river is inaccessible due to fallen trees and downed power lines—” making the next closest hospital unreachable by road “—and Stat Flight is grounded due to high winds. So we’re it.”
“Ruby,” Pat said from beside her. “Molly just called. Honey, you’d better sit down.”
Molly, Dillon’s best friend’s mother, had taken both boys to the school that evening. Ruby felt the blood drain from her body. She grabbed on to the counter for support. “Tell me.”
“Her son is in a full-blown asthma attack and they’re on the way to the hospital.” Ruby waited for the rest. “When the storm hit she got separated from Dillon. She said she tried to find him but—”
Ruby stopped listening. Visions bombarded her. Dillon, all alone in the dark, scared and cold on this frigid November night, maybe hurt and in pain, maybe dying, maybe hidden beneath a pile of rubble where no one knew to look for him. Suffering. Crying out for her.
A burning ache, like nothing she’d ever felt before, seared her heart.
Staff from other departments converged on the ER, and stood waiting for direction. From her. A mother in crisis. The nurse in charge. Which would take priority at this particular moment in time?
Luckily her disaster preparedness training kicked in. She looked at the night administrator. “I need a nurse on triage in the ER waiting room. Can you get me someone from pediatrics to help out?” She turned to the security guard. “Set up visitor screening in the main lobby. No one gets in until we call for them.” Luckily the nurse’s aide on duty tonight happened to be an EMT. “I need you on the radio, Jack,” to coordinate the ambulance arrivals, alert the staff about what to expect, and get Dr Johnson for in-transit consult if needed.
Maintenance got to work lining up extra stretchers and wheelchairs, which staff from housekeeping wiped down and covered with sheets.
“I paged respiratory therapy to be here for your friend’s son,” Pat said. “Now I’ll go down the on-call sheet and staff roster to see who I can get in here.”
“I’ll help,” a young unit secretary offered, hurrying behind the desk.
They’d all been trained to pitch in, go where you’re needed, and do what you’re told.
As everyone began to disperse, Ruby climbed onto a chair. “One more thing,” she yelled loud enough to get everyone’s attention. “If anyone comes across my son – Dillon Kendell, five years old, short dark hair, wearing Spider-Man pajamas – I want to be told immediately.”
One of the nurses sucked in a breath and brought her hand to her mouth. “Dillon’s there?”
All Ruby could do was nod. Helpless tears collected in her eyes. She blinked them away. A breakdown would not help Dillon or the dozens of patients who would soon be arriving.
Everyone stood still, watching her, waiting. “I have to believe he’s fine. And if he’s not, I have to have confidence that the school staff and our emergency responders will look after him and take good care of him. Just like all the other parents have to trust we’re going to take good care of their children when they get here. Now everyone get back to work so we’re ready. I’m in charge. All questions and problems come to me.”
As if on cue, the ambulance radio squawked to life with information on the first casualty en route. ETA – estimated time of arrival – six minutes, which didn’t give Ruby much time.
As she carefully got down from the chair, she said to Pat, “I need two minutes alone.” Then she hurried into the head nurse’s office and closed the door. Yes, she trusted the school staff and emergency responders to do their best. But Dillon needed someone on site to look for him and make sure he received prompt medical treatment if necessary.
And in her absence, the only person she’d trust with that responsibility was Brady.
Because in the year of their friendship turned kind-of relationship, he’d been reliable and supportive, caring and understanding, thoughtful and sweet, affectionate and . . . loving. A wonderful father figure for Dillon. A man Ruby never thought she’d be lucky enough to find – one who’d gotten her to let down her guard, one she could talk to for hours and trust with her son, one she loved in a best-friends-who-have-sex kind of way, one she could have maybe, possibly, at some point in the future, love in a till-death-do-us-part kind of way . . . at least she’d thought so until five days ago, when he’d gone and decided to do the one thing she feared most.
And, in true grown-up form, she’d been avoiding him and ignoring his attempts to contact her ever since.
Ruby picked up the phone and dialed his mobile with shaky hands. Would he even take her call?
As soon as he answered she blurted out, “It’s Ruby. Please don’t hang up.”
“I’d never hang up on you, Ruby,” he said quietly. So laid-back. So calm. The perfect counterpart to her high-strung, obsessive worrier.
“I know you’re busy packing.”
He said, “Packing was quick and easy and I’m done.” But instead she heard, Deciding to go was quick, leaving you is easy, and I’m done trying.
Could her heart handle any more devastation tonight? She’d agreed to switch from day shift to cover three nights in a row so she’d be too tired to think about him, too busy to track him down to beg him to stay, and too far away to watch him walk out of her life for good – in eight short hours.
Focus on Dillon. “I know whatever we had is over and—”
“I don’t want us to be over,” he said calmly.
No. He wanted her to sit at home with Dillon while he traveled the country with his band as the opening act on a national tour. He wanted her to wait for him, for four months, to dream about him and yearn for him to return to her. When she knew he wouldn’t be back.
Having spent the better part of her eighteenth and nineteenth years as a groupie on the concert circuit, she had intimate knowledge – intimate being the operative word – of what went on off-stage during tours. She understood the allure of that life, the strong pull. Heck, she’d already lost one love to it.
Falling for another musician was just plain stupid. Had she learned nothing from the heartbreak of loving Dillon’s dad? Apparently not, because once again, Ruby had allowed herself to be sweet-talked by a smooth voice, to fall under the spell of a song written and performed just for her, to get caught up in the creativity and talent and nights watching her man on stage. So cool, carefree and confident.
In her defense, the Brady she’d first met worked as a firefighter paramedic with county EMS – Emergency Medical Services, specializing in search and rescue. By the time she’d found out about his love of guitar and bi-weekly Saturday night gigs in local bars, she’d been too into him to think with a clear head. But all the clues had been there – the dark, wavy, chin-length hair and the way he dressed, his love of rock music, his excellent singing voice and expert knowledge of all the lyrics to songs on the radio.
She’d been distracted by his wit and kindness, by his body, his deep brown eyes and large hands. And the things he could do with that talented mouth and tongue of his . . .
Stop! “I didn’t call to talk about us. I need your help. Dillon needs you.”
“What’s wrong?” Mention of Dillon seemed to slap the calm right out of him. “What happened? Where is he?”
By the time Ruby finished explaining the situation, tears streamed down her cheeks and her breath came in choppy gasps. “And he’s . . . all . . . alone. And I’m . . . at work . . . and can’t leave.” She fought to catch her breath. “Oh God . . . Brady. What if he’s—”
“He’s not,” Brady said, so sure. Ruby wanted to believe him. “I can be at the school in five minutes.” A door slammed and he sounded like he was running. “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll find him.”
Honey. “I know you will.” Because in all the time she’d known him, Brady always did what he said he’d do. Yet when he’d promised he’d be faithful, and call her every night, and return to her as soon as possible, she just couldn’t bring herself to believe him.
“You should probably wear your uniform or you won’t be able to get close to the school,” she said.
“I know everyone on the police force and in the fire department,” he said, breathing a little heavier. “If I don’t find him outside, I’ll get inside. And I will not stop looking for him until you tell me that he’s with you or I have him with me.”
Ruby inhaled a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
“There’s no need to thank me.” Another door slammed, an engine turned over, and music started to play. “You and Dillon are the most important people in my life,” he said. “I’d do anything for you.”
Except stay.
An ambulance siren sounded. Someone knocked on her door. She told Brady, “I need to get back to work.”
“Try not to worry,” he said. “Dillon and I will see you soon.”
His confidence gave her hope.
But when forty-five minutes passed with no word from him, Ruby’s hope started to fade. She considered calling him but talked herself out of it. He’d call when he had a reason to call.
“Ruby,” Jack yelled for her.
She hurried back to the desk where he sat, his face tight with concern. Her lungs contracted.
“Ambulance on its way in with a young boy,” he said. “Crush injury. Unresponsive. Severe head and facial trauma. Unrecognizable.” His eyes met hers. “Short dark hair, wearing Spider-Man pajamas.”
Ruby’s world went quiet, her vision narrowed and she reached out to steady herself.
“You okay?” Jack’s words brought her back.
No. “Yeah.” He started to stand and she held up her hand to stop him. “I’m fine. Knowing is better than not knowing, right?” And Spider-Man pajamas were pretty popular which meant there was 50–50 chance it wasn’t Dillon. “Let’s put him in trauma two, bed one.” No matter whose little boy he turned out to be, Ruby would take good care of him.
She went from room to room until she found Dr Johnson talking to a group of parents. Ruby waited in the doorway and as soon as he finished she pulled him aside. “Major trauma on the way, I’d like you to take it.”
Other doctors had arrived to help, but she knew Dr Johnson and trusted him.
“Is it your son?” he asked.
“Not sure.” But as the ambulance’s siren grew louder, Ruby ran to meet it.
Brady Rodger cradled Ruby’s son on his lap in the front seat of the ambulance, his little body enveloped in Brady’s jacket so entirely that not even his feet were showing. He held him close to stabilize him against the bumpy road, to warm him, and comfort him as the wind howled outside and rain pelted the windshield.
Dillon let out a weak moan.
“Hang in there, champ,” Brady said, maintaining pressure on the bandage covering the boy’s forehead laceration. “We’re almost to the hospital where your mom is waiting for you.” Probably going out of her mind with worry, since due to the weather and widespread power outages he hadn’t been able to get a cell signal to call her.
Dillon moaned again, turned his head toward Brady’s chest and vomited. “It’s okay.” He shifted Dillon in his arms to elevate his head and tilt him forward so he wouldn’t choke. “It’s going to be okay.” He wiped Dillon’s mouth with his sleeve.
“Good call not waiting around for another ambulance to return,” his buddy Tyler said as he drove. “That’s three times. He’s got a concussion for sure.”
Please let that be the worst of it. Please don’t let there be an intracranial hematoma or hemorrhage or irreversible damage to the brain. He dropped his head back and closed his eyes. God help him, he’d turned into a worrier, just like Ruby. Her words echoed in his head, That’s what happens when you become a parent.
No, he wasn’t a name-on-the-birth-certificate parent, but no father could care more for his child than Brady cared for Dillon. And no father could love the mother of his child more than Brady loved Ruby.
And even though she’d never said the words and insisted on referring to their relationship as nothing more than best friends who have sex, he knew she’d grown to love him, to depend on him and value him as more than a friend. Unfortunately, not enough to overcome her fear that at some point he would leave her and never come back. Not enough to let him spend more than a few hours in her bed or to participate in a discussion about a more permanent arrangement like them living together or getting engaged or married.
And at thirty years old, Brady had lived alone long enough. He wanted more than snippets of family life by invitation only.
Tyler turned into the hospital’s parking lot. “Good thing they have power.”
Damn good thing.
As Tyler maneuvered to back into the ambulance bay, Brady caught a glimpse of Ruby, pacing on the sidewalk. “There’s your mom,” he said to Dillon. “Wake up, Dill Pickle.” He gently shook his boy bundle.
Dillon moaned.
“You got him?” Tyler opened the door, no doubt in a hurry to assist in the unload of the critical patient in the back.
“Yup. Go do what you have to do.” Brady then turned his attention back to Dillon. “You need to talk to me.” He patted the boy’s cheek. “Wake up and talk to me.”
Dillon kept his eyes closed and said, “No.”
It was a response. And thank God for that.
Brady made sure he had a good hold on Dillon before he opened the door and climbed down, expecting Ruby to charge in his direction. Only she didn’t. And when he walked to the back of the ambulance, he found the sidewalk empty. So he carried Dillon to the electric doors, made it through the first set but was stopped from entering the Emergency Department by a huge security guard who stood in front of the second set of doors. “You can’t come in here.” He pointed down the walkway. “All patients need to be triaged first.”
“Please get Ruby Kendell.” He held up Dillon. “Tell her Brady’s here and her son needs medical attention.”
“Light hurts,” Dillon said, burying his face in Brady’s chest.
“Nice try,” the guard said. “Ruby’s son was just brought in. Now if you’d—”
“No I won’t,” Brady said. “Ruby,” he yelled as loud as he could.
“Ow,” Dillon whined.
“Sorry, champ,” he apologized and yelled again. “Ruby, I have Dillon.” The guard took a threatening step forward. “Don’t.” Brady stood tall and used his six-foot-two-inch height and solid build to threaten him right back. “There’s obviously been a mistake because I am holding Ruby’s son in my arms. If you’d just get her . . .”
“Brady?” Ruby stood frozen in the hallway behind the security guard, her dark bangs and shoulder-length hair framing her pale face, her green eyes staring up at him.
He imagined what he must look like, filthy from searching through rubble, sopping wet from the rain, stained with blood and vomit, holding Dillon’s limp body in his arms. “He’s got a head wound. He’s lethargic but arousable.” Brady gave her the most important information first.
“That’s Dillon?” She glanced over the guard’s shoulder. “You’re sure?”
He nodded. “I found him with three other children up on the stage. A rack of musical instruments fell on top of them. Questionable loss of consciousness,” Brady said, keeping his voice calm, taking a step around the security guard. “Sensitive to light. Complained of head pain twice. Vomited three times.”
With tears in her eyes and her fist clutched to her chest, Ruby whispered, “He’s alive.”
“Yes, honey. He’s alive. But he needs a CT scan and some stitches and a good once-over by your best doc.” He tapped Dillon’s shoulder. “Wake up and show your mom you’re okay.”
“Mom?” Dillon asked, his hoarse voice little more than a whisper, but enough to jolt Ruby into action.
“Yes, sweetie.” She hurried forward and bent over to kiss Dillon’s cheek. “Mommy’s right here and I’m going to take good care of you.” Carefully she lifted the dressing covering Dillon’s laceration.
“Brady found me,” Dillon said quietly.
“I knew he would,” she said with a smile and a look of appreciation he’d never forget.
A woman in a colorful top and navy scrub pants that matched Ruby’s came up beside them. “Private three is open and ready.”
Ruby turned to the woman. “Would you cover for me in trauma two, bed one? I was on my way to get warm blankets.”
“Of course.” The woman hurried away.
“That poor boy,” she mumbled then looked up at Brady. “I thought he might be Dillon. Same pajamas.” She started to cry. “Thank you.” She threw her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much.” She jumped back. “You’re soaked and freezing.” She looked down. “Because you gave your jacket to Dillon. Come.” She put her hand on his lower back and guided him to a room. “Sit.” She pushed down on his shoulders. “Let me get you both some warm blankets and dry clothes.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Brady said. “Take care of Dillon.” Dillon had to come first, had to be okay.
Gently she set her palm to his cheek. He leaned into her touch, had missed her so much these past five days. Going on the road without her was going to be brutal. “You know I am quite the proficient multitasker,” she said. “And I can take care of both of you just as easily as I can take care of one of you.” This was his Ruby, so caring, so capable. She pressed her lips to his in a kiss filled with tenderness and love. “I’ll be right back.”
If he didn’t have his arms filled with Dillon he would have used them to pull her close, to remind her of the months of love they’d shared, of what she’d given up so easily.
Fight for me. Fight for us.
But his arms were full, so all he could do was sit there as she stepped back and left the room.
He gave Dillon’s shoulder a shake. “Wake up, buddy.”
Dillon responded with a moan.
“Not good enough. Talk to me. What’s your name?” he asked, trying to determine his level of orientation.
“You know my name,” he mumbled.
“I know I know it, but do you know it?”
“Dill Pickle,” he said with a tiny hint of a smile.
Brady smiled too. “That’s right. You’re my Dill Pickle.” He hugged the boy he’d grown to love as his own, and sent up a prayer that his plan would work, that not having Brady readily available would force Ruby to recognize how much a part of their life he’d become. Hopefully she’d miss him and find a way to conquer her fear of relationships so they could be together, a real committed couple, when he came home.
And he planned to make good use of his time away to prove he’d follow through on his promise to call her every night. Hopefully, nightly phone sex would convince her she was the only woman for him. But, most of all, he wanted to show her that when he gave his word he’d come back, he’d come back.
In typical organized, efficient Ruby style, it didn’t take her long to return with her arms loaded down with towels, a pair of scrubs for him, warm blankets, a suture kit, an electronic thermometer and a laptop. A man in blue scrubs and a white lab coat followed right behind her.
“Dr Johnson, this is my . . .” She hesitated. “My . . .”
“Her boyfriend,” Brady finished her sentence for her because in his heart that’s what he was. A little disagreement, or even a big one, or a couple of hundred miles of distance between them, wouldn’t change the way he felt about her. “I’d shake your hand but . . .” He looked down at Dillon.
“I understand you were a paramedic with the fire department,” Dr Johnson said while he examined Dillon’s head.
“I am a paramedic with the fire department.” He looked up at Ruby who looked away. “I took a leave of absence to help out some buddies of mine, but the town is holding my job for me. The woman I love is here. I will definitely be coming back.”
Dr Johnson looked back and forth between them. “All righty then. Let’s get him up on the stretcher.”
Brady stood, carried Dillon to the stretcher, and carefully put him down. “Wake up, Dill. Doctor’s here to take a look at you.”
Dillon tried to open his eyes then squeezed them shut and winced. “Hurts.”
Brady shielded him from the overhead light while he gave Dr Johnson his report, informing him of everything that happened from the time he uncovered Dillon under a pile of band instruments to his arrival at the hospital. The doc did a very thorough exam – under Ruby’s watchful eye he’d be a fool not to. Dr Johnson asked Dillon questions and gave him commands to which the boy responded and moved appropriately.
And Brady finally started to relax.
“Let’s get him over for a CT scan and then I’ll stitch him up,” said Dr Johnson, using a stylus to enter information into his laptop. With a smile and a “nice to meet you”, he left the room.
Someone knocked on the door. Ruby opened it. An older woman stood there. “I’m sorry to bother you but Jack has a cardiac arrest on the way in and we’re out of beds. A few parents are creating problems in the waiting room and we’re out of suture kits.”
Ruby looked back at Dillon, obviously torn between staying by her son’s side and doing her job. “Go,” Brady said. “I’ll stay with him. Any change and I’ll find you.”
“Thank you,” Ruby said, closing the door behind her. A few seconds later it opened and Ruby stuck her head in. “I forgot to mention.” She looked him up and down. “There’s something oddly attractive about a man covered in vomit who’s so concerned about my son he doesn’t care that he’s covered in vomit.”
Brady smiled. “The strangest
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