The Consultant's New-Found Family
Auteur·e
Kate Hardy
Lectures
15,5K
Chapitres
14
CHAPTER ONE
NO. THIS couldn’t be happening. Especially not today.
The back wheels fishtailed wildly, swinging the car from side to side before slamming it into the side of the kerb.
‘No, no, no. You steer into the skid,’ Lisa reminded herself loudly.
Problem was, she wasn’t sure which way that was, because her car was still fishtailing down the hill. One thing she did know, you weren’t supposed to brake hard on ice. You were supposed to take your foot off the accelerator and let the car slowly, slowly—
The jolt went right through her as the car hit the kerb again and bounced off.
OK. Calm down. Steer to the kerb. Stay in first gear. Let the car come to a halt.
One last bounce, and the car finally stopped.
And now she was stuck.
Couldn’t stay where she was, because she was an obstacle—one that might cause someone else to have an accident as they tried to negotiate their way around her on the ice.
Couldn’t go back—no way could she reverse up a hill that was covered in ice.
Couldn’t go down—the hill loomed below her, a sheet of ice. If she slid across to the other side of the road, the chances were that she’d hit another car on its way up the hill. And she might not be able to stop at the bottom of the slope either, so she could end up driving straight into the path of an oncoming car. A car that wouldn’t be able to avoid her on the icy road and would smash into the side of hers, the door buckling in and her body crushed.
Was this what had happened the day her father—?
No.
She wasn’t going to think about that. Now really wasn’t the time. Or the place. She took her keys out of the ignition with shaking hands and put on her hazard lights.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not in March. It was supposed to be the start of spring, for goodness’ sake, not the depths of winter.
‘Lisa Richardson, you can’t wuss out of your first day in a new job,’ she informed herself sternly. ‘You’re trained to winch out of helicopters. You’re going to be clipping people into a safety harness when you’re balancing on a tiny ledge above choppy seas. And that’s a hell of a lot scarier than driving down an icy little hill.’
Except right now it didn’t feel like it. Even her hands were stiff with panic and refused to grip the steering-wheel.
‘All you have to do is drive to the bottom. You know the main road will be gritted. Just take it steady. It doesn’t matter if you have a hundred cars behind you, wanting you to hurry up. Ignore any flashing lights or car horns. Just drive. Slowly. Get to the bottom of the hill. Turn right. Get on the main road out of the village and go to work,’ she said loudly.
But the pep talk wasn’t working. Every nerve-end was jangling at the thought of going down the hill, out of control. She could even see the smash happening in slow motion, hear the splintering glass and screeching of metal against metal. A sound that echoed back and back and back through her past.
I can’t do this! I can’t! she screamed mentally.
And then she screamed for real as she heard a bang.
It took her a couple of seconds—seconds that felt like hours—to realise that someone had knocked on the passenger window. All her windows had steamed up, so she couldn’t see who it was.
She put the key back in the ignition, then pressed the button to lower the electric window until there was a gap of a couple of centimetres. Not enough for whoever it was to put a hand through—she wasn’t that stupid—but enough to talk through.
‘Are you all right?’ a concerned male voice asked.
‘Just hit some ice and smacked into the kerb. It caught me a bit on the hop.’
Oh, talk about sounding wet. She’d never played the helpless female, batting tear-spiked eyelashes and wobbling her lower lip to get her own way, and she wasn’t going to start now. And she certainly wasn’t going to tell a complete stranger why she was so wussy about driving on ice. ‘Sorry to block your way—I’ll move in a second,’ she said. And she fully intended to, once she’d psyched herself up to driving again.
There was a pause while he seemed to be inspecting her car. ‘Looks as if you’ve cracked one of your wheel covers,’ the voice informed her. ‘Do you want me to follow you down the hill, just in case there’s a problem?’
A problem? Did he think that the impact had damaged the wheel or her steering? Oh, no. A road covered in black ice was bad enough. Add dodgy steering, and she was a crash waiting to happen. A crash just like the one that had…
With an effort, Lisa pulled herself together. ‘I’m sure it’ll be OK.’ She wasn’t sure at all, but she needed to feel back in control. And sounding in control was the first step towards being in control, wasn’t it? ‘Thanks for the offer, though.’
The tremor in her voice must’ve been obvious, because he said, ‘You don’t sound very OK. You’re new around here, aren’t you?’
No prizes for guessing that: her accent was pure south London, and right now she was in the northern part of Northumbria. Miles and miles and miles away. She dragged in a breath. ‘Yup.’
‘This road catches even locals unawares when there’s a cold snap,’ he said. ‘The sun comes out for just long enough to melt the ice, then it freezes up again into what feels like a sheet of polished glass.’
He had a nice voice. Calm. Reassuring. It sounded as if he was smiling, and for a second she relaxed and smiled back. ‘We don’t really get icy roads like this in London.’ It was always slightly warmer in the capital than it was elsewhere in the country. ‘And I’ve never fishtailed down a hill before.’
‘It’s pretty scary, the first time it happens.’ He ducked slightly, and she could just see his eyes through the gap in the window. Amazing eyes. A mixture of grey and gold and green, with unfairly long, dark lashes. Was the rest of him as beautiful as his eyes?
Though sitting in a car halfway down an icy hill was the last place she should start fantasising about a complete stranger. Even if the guy wasn’t already committed elsewhere, a relationship didn’t figure in her plans for the future. No way was she ever going to lose the love of her life and spend the rest of her days in the shadows, the way her mother had.
‘Would it help if I drove your car down to the bottom of the hill for you?’ he asked.
The coward in her leapt at the idea; she pushed it back. ‘That’s very kind of you, but I’ll be OK.’ Apart from the fact that Lisa had always handled her own problems, the man was a complete stranger. And common sense told her that you didn’t let a strange man get in your car and drive you wherever he liked, even if he did have a nice voice and stunning eyes.
‘If you’re sure. I’ll follow you for a bit. If you’re worried about anything, just stick your hazard lights on and pull over, and I’ll pull in behind you and sort it out.’
He’d definitely earned his Sir Galahad badge. ‘Thanks.’
‘No worries.’
A few moments later she took a deep breath, released the handbrake and crawled along the road. The car smacked into the kerb twice more, jolting her, but then she reached the bottom of the hill. To her relief, she managed to stop before the line. And as soon as she turned onto the main road she could feel that the surface had been gritted. No skiddiness. Everything was absolutely fine.
There was a red car following her: Sir Galahad from the hill. She flashed her hazard lights twice and gave him the thumbs-up sign to let him know that she was perfectly OK now. He imitated her sign—but a couple of miles later she noticed that he was still following her.
He was still behind her when she turned off towards the hospital.
And he was still behind her when she pulled into the car park.
Surely he should have turned off by now? Why was he still there?
Stop being stupid, she told herself sternly. Of course the man wasn’t a stalker or some kind of maniac. He was just a stranger who’d spotted her looking as if she was in trouble—which she had been—and he’d been kind enough to make sure she reached her destination safely. He’d drive away again in a moment. She was still just a bit rattled from that horrible out-of-control feeling as she’d slid down the hill. Overreacting. Being silly.
But then he parked two spaces away from her.
Too close for comfort.
Lisa took a deep breath and blew it out very, very slowly. So, what were her options? One, she could make a run for it and hope she made it through the hospital doors before he did. Two, she could face him down. Three, she could call the police.
Option one: the chances were, he’d be able to run faster than she could. So, no.
Option two: brave, but foolish.
Option three: and tell them what, precisely? That a man had parked two spaces away from her? Pa-a-a-thetic.
She went for option four. Stay still and see what he did next. She was in a locked car, so she was perfectly safe where she was.
Lisa pretended to be looking in her handbag for something and waited, watching the red car out of the corner of her eye.
The door opened. The driver got out, shrugged a coat on and headed straight for the hospital entrance. He didn’t even so much as glance in the direction of her car.
Her whole body went limp with relief—and embarrassment. How stupid had she just been? Convincing herself that her Sir Galahad had turned into a stalker. For goodness’ sake! It was obvious that either he worked here or he was visiting someone.
And she’d better get a move on or she was going to be late. On her first day. Not good at all.
She grabbed her handbag and coat, locked the car door behind her and headed for the emergency department.
Ten minutes later Julie, one of the staff nurses, was showing Lisa around the ward. They were just passing the cubicles when a curtain twitched back and a doctor in a white coat emerged.
Lisa blinked hard. She recognised those amazing eyes from the gap above her steamed-up window. And the rest of him was even more gorgeous. Movie-star handsome—high cheekbones, a strong jaw and sensual mouth that made you want to beg him to use it on you. Broad shoulders, narrow hips and capable hands. The kind of man women lost their heads over—big time.
She didn’t think she’d ever seen such a beautiful man.
If he ever went out wearing a black poloneck sweater and black trousers, every woman who saw him would be a quivering puddle of hormones within seconds.
‘Hey, Joel.’ Julie smiled at him. ‘Meet our new SHO, Lisa Richardson. Lisa, this is Joel Mortimer—he’s our registrar.’
‘Sir Galahad.’ Lisa spoke without thinking.
Julie raised an eyebrow. ‘Am I missing something?’
‘He came to my rescue when I got stuck on some ice on the way to work this morning,’ Lisa explained.
‘Oh, right.’ Julie smiled. ‘That figures. Rescuing’s what Joel does.’
Lisa’s pulse missed a beat. Was he a volunteer doctor with the air ambulance crew, too? Would she end up in a helicopter with him, sitting so close that their knees touched? Oh-h-h. Her temperature had just shot up ten degrees.
Before Lisa could embarrass herself by asking, Julie added with a grin, ‘Though usually it’s in his skimpy red trunks.’
Please, please don’t let me be hyperventilating at the idea of a man this gorgeous wearing the skimpiest of clothes, his wet hair slicked back and his body glittering in the sun with droplets from the sea, Lisa begged silently.
Joel groaned. ‘Don’t listen to a word she says. I do not wear skimpy trunks. I’m a coastguard, not a lifeguard.’
Coastguard? Not part of the air ambulance crew, then. Lisa was shocked by the disappointment that surged through her.
‘You wore a pair of skimpy red trunks for the charity auction,’ Julie reminded him, laughing.
‘Only because Beth nagged me into it. And that was your fault. You put the idea into her head in the first place, you horrible woman,’ Joel informed her, smiling back.
Beth? His wife? Lisa glanced at his left hand—no sign of a wedding ring. Though maybe he just didn’t wear one.
‘I suppose at least you didn’t wax your chest. Or bleach your hair and get a fake tan,’ Julie teased.
Beautiful hair, Lisa thought. So dark it was almost black. Glossy, tousled curls which he’d clearly raked back with one hand, though a lock of hair flopped forward over his forehead. She suppressed the urge to reach forward and brush it back. Just.
‘Thanks for stopping and helping me this morning,’ she said awkwardly.
‘No worries. You’re not the first one who’s been caught out on that hill, and you won’t be the last. If I’d realised you were coming here, I could’ve offered you a lift,’ he said with a smile.
And, lord, what a smile. It actually made her knees go weak.
Very, very bad. Joel Mortimer was definitely someone to stay away from.
‘So you’re a coastguard as well as a doctor?’ she asked, hoping that her voice sounded completely normal—though she had a nasty feeling that she sounded breathless and a bit squeaky, like a schoolgirl asking her favourite pop star for an autograph.
He shrugged. ‘As a volunteer. They call me if they need me.’
The air ambulance service here was run on a similar basis, staffed mainly by volunteers. In London, she’d been on secondment to HEMS for six months and had loved every minute of it. Here, the paramedics on the air ambulance crew were full time but the doctors volunteered to do a shift for a couple of days each month, on their off-duty. Lisa didn’t mind working an extra two days a month for nothing: the way she saw it, she was putting something back in.
And maybe her work could stop someone else losing half their family, the way she had when she’d been sixteen.
‘So what made you come to Northumbria?’ Joel asked.
‘I’d finished my stint at HEMS, so it was time to move on.’ She shrugged. Why Northumbria? ‘I came here on holiday with my parents when I was a kid.’ It had been her last holiday with both parents. She’d just finished her GCSE exams, and although all of her friends had been planning to go on holiday together, travelling by rail through Europe for a month before settling down to start their A levels, her parents had asked her to spend that one last holiday with them instead of taking her first steps into the big wide world with her friends.
She’d been torn. If she didn’t go to Europe with her friends, she’d miss out on swimming in St Tropez, eating the best ice cream in the world in Venice and being chatted up by gorgeous Greek waiters. And she’d feel that somehow she was a baby while all her friends had taken that extra step away from childhood.
But she adored her parents. And they weren’t stuffy like most of her friends’ parents. They talked to her as if she were an adult and her opinion mattered, that she wasn’t just some silly little teenage girl.
In the end she agreed to go with her family. And after what happened barely six months later, she was so glad she had. That she’d not done the stroppy teenager bit and refused to hang out with her parents. That she’d enjoyed a holiday of simple English pleasures—the gardens at Alnwick where every breath you took was filled with the scent of roses, so strong that you could actually taste the flowers; poking round ancient castles and second-hand bookshops; walking along part of Hadrian’s Wall and stopping off at little cafés to have stotties for lunch, the huge local bread rolls filled with cheese and ham.
Funny how memories so good could still hurt.
‘I remember the beaches being amazing,’ she said. ‘These huge stretches of sand underneath cliffs with enormous castles.’
‘The beach here is fabulous. And they sell the best fish and chips in the world on the harbour—you really have to try them.’
Was he offering…?
No. And she wouldn’t have accepted, even if he’d asked. She didn’t do relationships.
‘Well, welcome to Northumberland General.’ Joel held his hand out. Lisa took it, and was shocked to feel her fingers actually tingling. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d responded that strongly to anyone.
But no way would a man as good-looking as Joel Mortimer be unattached. From what he’d said to Julie, Lisa knew that there was someone called Beth in his life—girlfriend, fiancée, maybe even his wife. Even if she broke her personal no-relationships rule, she’d never break up someone else’s relationship to do that. She mentally hissed instructions to her libido to sit still.
‘Better get on. My guess is we’ll have a dozen Colles’ fractures in this morning.’ He shrugged. ‘Always do when it’s as icy as this.’
‘People slipping on the path and putting their hands out to save themselves,’ Lisa said. ‘The record in my department in London was forty in a day.’
Julie whistled. ‘Wow. Don’t think I’d like to beat that. Come on, let me show you around the rest of the department, and then you can meet the team.’
‘See you later,’ Joel said. ‘Enjoy your first day with us.’
‘Thanks.’ She smiled back, and let Julie lead her away from Joel.
Gorgeous. That was the only word to describe Lisa Richardson. In her car, her face white with fear, she’d looked beautiful but remote. There had been something almost other-worldly about her—an elfin face, huge blue-grey eyes and dark hair cut in a gamine, slightly spiky style that reminded Joel of Audrey Hepburn. Here, on the ward, she’d seemed warmer. Nearer. And when she’d shaken his hand, his skin had tingled at her touch. A tingle that had worked all the way down to the base of his spine. A tingle that had made him want to take her hand and trace a path with his mouth, starting at the pulse beating at her wrist up to her inner elbow and moving up to her shoulder, gliding along the sensitive cord at the side of her neck and then finally—
No. She might be the most attractive woman he’d met in a long, long time, but nothing was going to happen between them. There wasn’t an official hospital rule banning relationships between staff on the same ward, but everyone knew it was a bad idea—they’d all had to work on a team where a personal relationship had shattered and soured the working relationship, too. Besides, Joel had learned his lesson the hard way. Relationships weren’t his strong point.
She’d called him ‘Sir Galahad’; he winced inwardly at the memory. You couldn’t get much further from the truth than that. The gallant knight in shining armour who rescued maidens from peril. Ha. He hadn’t been able to rescue the one person he should’ve been able to rescue. As knights in shining armour went, he was an utter failure. If that was how she saw him, he’d only end up disappointing her.
And then there was Beth.
No, it would be much too complicated.
He shook himself and strode to the reception area to find his next patient.
