Winning Over the Off-Limits Doctor
Author
Annie Claydon
Reads
18.1K
Chapters
15
There's an instant spark between them, but can these doctors learn to open their guarded hearts? Find out in Annie Claydon's latest story for Harlequin Medical Romance. A PRIZE WORTH FIGHTING FOR? To protect her adopted parents from pain, pediatric emergency doc Mattie has worked hard to conceal her more impulsive side. And yet the arrival of charming orthopedic consultant Dr. Llwyd sees her throwing caution to the wind! Llwyd clearly feels the same instant attraction, but the shadows of past trauma haunting his eyes put him firmly off-limits. Unless Mattie's zest for life can win him over, and convince guarded Llwyd to take one final risk…
CHAPTER ONE
FRIDAY EVENING. IT had been a long week in the paediatric A&E department, and the only thing that stood between Dr Mattie Graeme and the weekend was a visit to the medical supplies stockroom.
‘Mattie, do you have a moment?’
Mattie winced. She’d thought too soon and now two things stood between her and the weekend. She turned to find Dr Gareth Lewis, the head of A&E services, standing behind her.
‘I was about to go and check the stockroom. I think we may be running low on a few things.’ Mattie shrugged, not wishing to get anyone into trouble. ‘Maybe they’re there and I just couldn’t find them earlier on...’
‘I’m aware. I’m on my way there myself to see what’s going on.’
That was one of the reasons that Gareth was so respected here. He kept his ear to the ground and addressed situations before they turned into problems.
‘What do you need from me, then, Gareth?’
‘I’ve just had a call from orthopaedics. They’ve recruited a new consultant for their trauma team who specialises in paediatrics. Since he’ll be working closely with this department, I mentioned a guided tour...’
Mattie grinned. ‘And you’d like me to do the honours?’
‘Would you mind?’ Gareth glanced at his watch. ‘It’ll only take ten minutes, just a quick hello and looking forward to working with you, but I really need to get to grips with the medical supplies situation before the weekend.’
‘My pleasure...’ Mattie turned as Gareth’s attention focussed over her shoulder onto a man who was making his way towards the admin station. ‘That’s him?’
Her surprise added an unfortunate squeak to the question. He looked like a movie star doctor who’d somehow got lost and ended up in a real hospital, where dazzling smiles and sex appeal weren’t part of the job.
‘Yep. You’ll take it from here...?’ Gareth was clearly concerned about the medical supplies situation and itching to get to grips with it.
‘I’ve got it.’ Mattie wasn’t sure that she had, but her feet seemed to have made the decision for her, taking her on a trajectory that led straight towards Dr Amazing, cutting him off before he had a chance to reach the admin desk.
‘Hi, I’m Mattie Graeme. Paediatric A&E. You’re...um...’ She probably should have thought to ask Gareth his name. ‘...the new doctor from orthopaedics?’
‘Llwyd Morgan.’ His voice was deep, with the almost musical lilt of a Welsh accent. ‘I’m here to see Dr Gareth Lewis.’
‘Gareth’s busy with our medical supplies situation at the moment, and he asked me to show you around.’ Finding yourself of secondary importance to a stockroom wasn’t the most resounding welcome. ‘Sorry...’
The apology came automatically, but when she looked up at him, Mattie really wasn’t sorry at all. His smile was captivating.
‘Whatever it takes to keep things running smoothly is always most important. I’m looking forward to working as part of his team.’
‘He’s a good boss. Very supportive.’ Mattie searched for a question that implied a casual interest, but didn’t involve the colour of his eyes. ‘You’re new to Cartref Bay?’
‘No, I was born here. Coming home to visit didn’t include checking the hospital out, though, so this is new territory for me. I’ve been working in London for the last ten years.’
The Cartref Bay Hospital stood on a hill overlooking the bay and had replaced an older building, which catered to the needs of the villages around Cartref Bay. The new hospital still provided community care and in addition was a centre of excellence for a wider area of west Wales. ‘You must remember the old cottage hospital, then. That was before my time.’
‘Yeah. Largely in connection with the usual childhood accidents. How long have you been here?’
‘Three years. Before that I was working in Sheffield.’ Three years in one place was a record for Mattie, and mapping out the circuitous route that had led her here smacked of aimlessness.
‘But you’re from London?’ His green eyes flashed with interest. ‘Your accent...’
‘Yes, I’m originally from London.’
It seemed like a long time ago, now. She’d packed her bags and her dad had driven her to university, on the first leg of a journey that had taken her through England and Scotland, and now to Wales. Mattie had always chosen the best work opportunities, because it didn’t do to admit that what really kept her on the move was her own inability to settle in one place.
‘Shall we start with the imaging suite? We have dedicated X-ray and CT scanning facilities here in A&E, which means we can work alongside radiographers to provide quick and accurate diagnoses...’
That sounded more like it. As if Llwyd’s sand-blond hair, his broad shoulders and his green eyes were irrelevant details. As if the solid, dependable side of her nature had no careless alter ego.
Then Llwyd went and spoiled it all by smiling again. Mattie could very easily throw caution to the winds for that smile.
Doggedly, she introduced him to Irene, who sat at the admin desk and could invariably answer any nonmedical question it was possible to think of. His face lit up when she showed him one of the empty trauma rooms, and Mattie took her time in pointing out the technology available. When she led him into one of the unoccupied treatment rooms, he was similarly impressed.
‘This is great.’ He looked around at the spacious area, which boasted up-to-the-minute equipment and brightly coloured, comfortable seating.
‘We can change the light levels...’ Mattie flipped the dimmer switch, then quickly returned the light level back up to normal as shadows began to caress his face. ‘And we have distraction packs and toys, along with a set of flip books, which visually explain most of the more common procedures, such as X-rays. They’re available to every child, and they’re often particularly helpful to autistic children.’
Mattie opened the door of a well-stacked cupboard in the corner of the room, and Llwyd moved a little closer, peering over her shoulder. Her breath caught suddenly in her throat, and she moved back a bit so he could see the range of resources available.
It was only then that she noticed his hands. The movement of Llwyd’s right hand was deft and precise, but he wore a flesh-coloured fingerless support glove on his left hand, and the thumb and first two fingers were curled towards his palm. Mattie caught herself wondering...
Wanting to know all about him didn’t make it okay to ask; if Llwyd wanted to mention it, he would. And right now, his whole attention was on the contents of the cupboard.
‘You have stickers.’ He grinned, pulling a box from its shelf, tucking it between his left wrist and his body so that he could open it and draw out one of the sheets inside.
‘Yes, they’re really popular and we have a range of them for various elements of the hospital experience. The kids like collecting them as they go.’
He chuckled. ‘They’re great, really nicely designed. Can I have one?’
Mattie smiled up at him, as she pulled an I Visited A&E sticker from its backing paper and tacked it onto his shirt. ‘See what I mean? No one can resist a sticker.’
She stepped back, slipping her hands into her pockets, and found a sparkly pen that she’d used to draw stars for a little girl and forgotten to put back. She dropped it into a large box of pens in the cupboard and Llwyd grinned.
‘Tough to resist sparkly pens, too.’
Sparkly pens and green eyes. ‘Yes. Sparkly pens are my particular nemesis.’
Llwyd chuckled. ‘Would it be okay if I took a set of these resources home with me, just to look at over the weekend? I’ll bring it all back on Monday. I just want to go through what’s available more carefully.’
‘Sounds good to me. We have plenty of them. You didn’t have anything like this where you were working before?’
‘Yes, we did, but I’ve been working on the wards for the last nine months, so it was more the nursing staff’s territory.’ He raised his left hand, flexing it, and Mattie saw that he had very limited movement in his thumb and first two fingers. ‘This happened eighteen months ago, and before that I was an orthopaedic surgeon, working with a trauma team. I switched to orthopaedic consultant, which is much the same set of medical skills, but I’m still working on the people skills.’
His people skills seemed just fine to her. The things that appealed so much to her impulsive instincts were ticking boxes with the more responsible side of her nature, too. His smile, his ability to listen and connect. Mattie could spend her time making bets with herself about how good a lover he’d be, or she could take a more rational approach and decide that he had all the skills necessary to calm a screaming child so that he could give them the medical treatment they needed. That was entirely up to her...
She smiled up at him. ‘You’ll need a bag. Irene usually keeps a few at the admin desk. I’ll go and fetch one for you...’
Selecting a green cloth bag, that matched his eyes, was just a matter of choosing the one with longer straps that he could hook over his shoulder to leave his hands free. And raiding the cupboard to make sure he had everything was simply a case of covering all the bases.
‘That’s great. I really appreciate it. Your shift must have ended a while ago...’ He made that seem like something he regretted, which prompted a jolt of similar regret in Mattie’s chest. The much-anticipated weekend suddenly vanished down a rabbit hole of wanting Llwyd’s company for just a little while longer.
‘I saved the best for last. You want to see the Sensory Room?’
The look on his face told her that he did. ‘I don’t want to keep you...’
‘It’s of no interest?’
Llwyd laughed. ‘I didn’t say that.’
‘I’ll see if it’s free.’
Despite the early-evening bustle in the department, the room was free, and Mattie led Llwyd inside, shutting the door behind them. Ignoring the mood created by coloured lights, and the swirl of stars and planets that were projected onto the ceiling, she plumped herself down on one of the squishy chairs, grabbing the control panel.
‘We have fibre optic lighting, and the bubble tubes in the corner change colour when you touch them. There are several different programmes for the main lights...’ She switched briskly from planets to bubbles and then on through the different light schemas.
None of it worked. She could see the same sense of wonder on Llwyd’s face that everyone had when they saw the room for the first time. He walked over to the bubble tubes, reaching out to touch them.
‘This is amazing. Don’t you have kids in here all the time?’
‘We’d love to, but we have to keep it for the children who need it the most. There’s a lot of work being done on the benefit of extending this kind of thing throughout the whole department and we’d like to do that. There are options like sensory trolleys that can be moved around and used in any of the treatment rooms...’
For once, Llwyd wasn’t listening. His right hand massaged his left thumb, straightening it, before he reached out to touch the bubble tube, watching as different colours scattered from his injured fingers. Mattie couldn’t help smiling.
‘Sorry...you were saying?’ He turned suddenly and Mattie shrugged.
‘Just that everyone can do with a sensory room from time to time.’ Despite all of his assurance, the sense that he was capable of meeting any situation head-on, she’d caught a brief glimpse of quickly hidden vulnerability.
‘And the quantifiable benefits...’ He thought for a moment. ‘It must allow you to assess and provide medical treatment more quickly when a child isn’t distressed. And if they’re not traumatised by their visit to the hospital, then they feel much more positive about returning.’
Mattie nodded.
‘This has always been here?’
‘We raised the money for it. We had loads of volunteers and everyone chose their own challenge. We had an elderly lady who knitted thirty Christmas pudding hats one Christmas.’
Llwyd chuckled. ‘You have one?’
‘I do, as a matter of fact. It kept my ears warm for my challenge. I cycle to work so my five hundred miles didn’t take me too long.’
‘You cycle up the hill to the hospital every morning?’
Mattie laughed. ‘The first hundred times were the worst. And going home’s a piece of cake. I just freewheel down the hill and then take the cycle lane that runs around the bay...’
Stop. Now. No one here knew exactly where Mattie lived, and everyone assumed that when she said ‘home’ she was referring to bricks and mortar. Living in a converted bus, parked on a sun-drenched but frequently windy hillside, was something that suited Mattie but it sounded horrendously impractical. That in itself would be enough to fuel worried looks from her mum and dad, who valued stability and responsibility. They’d adopted her when she was just a baby and given her everything. Mattie loved them and if she couldn’t tell them about her home, for fear of disappointing them, it was wrong to tell anyone else.
And then there was the boat... Another unstable thing that had been rocking gently at its moorings for the past year, ever since Mattie’s biological father had turned up and then promptly disappeared again, leaving behind the lavish and wildly impractical present. If Mattie approached the question rationally, then selling the boat would be the obvious next step, particularly since she’d never had any interest in boats and had no way of actually using the craft.
But even though her biological father had never shown much interest in her, the lure of the idea that he’d never forgotten her was too strong, and Mattie couldn’t bring herself to let go of his gift. Something so dedicated to movement was an unlikely kind of shackle, but increasingly it felt like something that tied her to Cartref Bay...
Her mind was wandering now, and perhaps the Sensory Room was getting to her, too. Mattie got to her feet, deciding that Llwyd had seen enough and it was time to move on. The combination of calming lights, a handsome guy whose gaze was capable of melting all her defences, and a rapidly approaching weekend was more than any woman could be expected to dismiss without a struggle.
‘Are you going down to Y Llong?’ he asked as he closed the door of the Sensory Room behind them. ‘The Ship...’
That was one Welsh translation that Mattie did know, largely because the large sign outside gave both the Welsh and English versions of the name. The Ship Pub, which stood by the harbour at the centre of the bay, was a regular end-of-the-week haunt for hospital staff, and no doubt someone had mentioned to Llwyd that it was the best place for new staff to get to know everyone.
‘I might pop in. It’s on my way...’ Suddenly, Friday evening drinks sounded a lot more attractive than usual.
‘Care to walk down there with me, and let me buy you a drink?’
Mattie swallowed hard. Something about the warmth in his eyes made it easy to mistake that for an admission that he wanted her company. Or she could take the more rational approach and recognise that it was an obvious way to meet new colleagues.
‘I need to get changed...’ Her hand drifted to the hem of her scrubs top, just in case there was any question that she might be wanting to dress up for an entirely work-related rendezvous.
‘I’ll fetch my bag from my locker and meet you in reception...’
Outside, Llwyd was just as challenging as he was inside. Perhaps more so. His grey sweater and the small backpack slung over one shoulder smacked of the weekend, where time spent with someone was a matter of choice. Evening sun and a stiff breeze ruffling his hair, made him look even more deliciously outdoorsy.
‘Any more questions?’ Mattie asked as they walked together along the footpath that ran alongside the cycle track, Mattie pushing her bike.
‘Only about a thousand. I’m reckoning on finding most of them out as I go.’
‘It’s a two-mile walk. Feel free to chip away at that total...’ She grinned up at him and he laughed.
The hill that led down from the hospital had always been a cooling-off period for Mattie. Time to let the challenges of the day go. It seemed that Llwyd was working on the same principle, now a part of ruggedly beautiful landscape that surrounded them, and living only for the moment. As they talked, it seemed suddenly obvious that the colours of the open air should be reflected in his moss-green eyes, golden skin and sand-blond hair.
Two miles could teach you a lot about a guy, particularly if neither of you were walking too fast. Llwyd had grown up on the south side of the bay, and from their vantage point Mattie could see the small cluster of houses that he indicated. His first steps had been taken on a boat, and then he’d learned to balance on dry land, spending most of his time on one of the small beaches that were dotted around the mouth of the cove, or in his father’s boatyard.
He’d gone to London to train as a doctor, and his soft Welsh accent was peppered with a few rhythms of the city. Llwyd left out the hows and whys relating to the injury to his left hand, but it had clearly played a big part in his decision to come home.
‘Do you miss surgery?’ Mattie could ask that, at least.
He laughed. ‘Sometimes. Quite often at first, and the hospital where I was working bent over backwards to find ways I might continue surgical work. In the end it was my own choice not to. I realised what I’d been missing all these years and that kids can be more fun and a great deal more challenging when they’re awake.’
‘That’s why I like working in paediatrics. Kids can be refreshingly unfiltered.’
He laughed, nodding. Instinct told her that Llwyd was holding things back, the same as she was. But here in the sunshine, she could forget all about those unknowns in favour of the quiet pleasure of just walking beside him.
