Read an excerpt from

His Pregnant Nurse
Available at eHarlequin.com April 2007

CHAPTER ONE

Critical Care nurse Caryn Stevens sucked in a breath and tried to squeeze between her patient’s bed and the ventilator without success. Her slightly rounded stomach just wouldn’t give.

She sighed and moved back around to the other side of her patient’s bed where there was less equipment to work around. She was going to have to tell her friends, her co-workers and her boss, soon.

Today.

But not yet. Ignoring her early morning nausea wasn’t easy but since the entire medical critical care team had just entered her patient’s room for morning rounds, she did her best. Especially when she’d waited almost an hour for them to make their way to her side of the unit.

“Good morning, Caryn.” Dr. Mitch Reynolds, the critical care attending physician on duty greeted her warmly. He was engaged to her good friend Dana and she had to admit the two of them made a great couple. Her smile dimmed when she imagined their shocked reaction to her news. “Has Mrs. Nowicki’s neuro status improved at all?”

“No, I’m afraid not.” Caryn put a discreet hand over her stomach and prayed the meager breakfast she’d eaten would stay down. Nausea wasn’t supposed to a problem this far along. “No response to verbal commands or to light stimuli. Only a decorticate response to pain and even that isn’t nearly as strong as it had been yesterday.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Mitch Reynolds turned to his team of eager residents. She didn’t recognize any of them; it was the first of the month when the residents rotated to different services.

She dreaded the first of the month.

“Dr. Hamilton, I’d like you to take over the care of this patient now, while I finish rounding with the rest of the team. I’m worried about her. I think it’s best if we get a stat CT scan of Mrs. Nowicki’s brain to see if there are any changes from the one we took two days ago.”

“Of course.” A tall, dark-haired, breathtakingly handsome man moved out of the group to approach the bedside. He reached for the chart, taking it from Mitch’s hands.

Mitch turned to her. “Caryn, have you met Dr. Luke Hamilton? He’s our new Critical Care Fellow I recruited from Kansas University Hospital. He just arrived a few weeks ago and this is his first month on the ICU rotation.”

“Ah, no, I haven’t.” Caryn pasted a smile on her face and stepped forward to shake his hand. His grip was firm. Warm. Her instant awareness to his touch was alarming. She took a quick step back. “Welcome to Trinity Medical Center, Dr. Hamilton.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Caryn.” His smile was brief but powerful all the same. “I’m glad to be here. And please, call me Luke.”

She turned away, hiding her irrational reaction to him. “I’d also like to discuss Mrs. Nowicki’s nutritional status. Her albumin is still too low and I’m wondering when we can consider feeding her.”

“Let’s get the scan first before we consider feeding her.” Dr. Luke Hamilton opened her patient’s chart and began writing orders. Mitch moved on to the next patient, taking the rest of the team with him. “Do I need to call down to radiology or can I simply write the order?”

Her stomach rolled and she battled the need to get sick. She wished the new fellow would write his orders someplace else and leave her alone. But no such luck, instead he looked at her expectantly.

“I think you need to call if you want it stat.” Her stomach somersaulted again and she blurted, “Excuse me,” and then bolted to the back of the room to the patient’s toilet, throwing up the entire contents of her stomach in one sickening lurch.

“Caryn?” Impervious to her acute embarrassment, Dr. Hamilton rushed to her side. His hand was gentle yet strong as he clutched her arm to steady her. “Are you all right?”

No, she wasn’t all right. She was pregnant, over five months along and the baby’s father remained in a coma at a local neuro-rehab center since his diving accident five months ago. Her whole life had been turned upside down.

How could she be all right?

Read an excerpt from

The Doctor's Christmas Proposal
Available at eHarlequin.com November 2006

CHAPTER ONE

Dana Whitney hiked her itchy neon-green tights up and tried not to grimace as the bells around her wrists and ankles tinkled merrily. So much for her attempt to get into the Christmas spirit. She felt ridiculous. None of the other ICU nurses were standing in the middle of Trinity Medical Center’s cafeteria dressed as one of Santa’s elves for the children’s Christmas party. Why in the world had she thought this would be a good idea?

Because she’d made a promise to her mother before she died. Dana rolled her shoulders to ease the tension creeping along her neck accompanying the memories. Her promise to remember only the good times and not the sad times during the holidays was going to be much harder to keep than she’d anticipated. Forcing off a wave of sorrow, she tugged on the green tunic that landed about mid-thigh and dodged a couple of kids running past her, chasing balloons.

Keeping busy would be the key. And reveling in the true meaning of Christmas. Not the easiest thing to do while dressed as an elf. Luckily she was scheduled to work over the holidays so she wouldn’t be sitting home alone.

A little girl tugged on her tunic. Dana glanced down. “Is it my turn yet?” The child asked.

Realizing she’d lost track for a moment, she flashed a guilty smile. “Yes. Here you go.” Dana lifted the girl and plunked her on Santa’s lap.

“Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!” Santa, who was currently being played by Dr. Joe Sansone gave a hearty chuckle. “So, little girl, what would you like Santa to bring you for Christmas?”

“You’re not really Santa.” The little girl stared at him with wide, serious blue eyes. “Are you?”

“Well now, you’re smart to figure out Santa is up at the North Pole, hard at work in his toy shop.” Dr. Joe Sansone winked at the girl. “But he needs helpers like me so that we can keep track of what each child wants for Christmas. What’s your name, honey?”

“Wendy Kinkade. I’m seven.”

Santa nodded. “And I’ll bet you’ve been a very good girl this year, too. What would you like for Christmas, Wendy?”

“New lungs for my Mommy.”

Huh? Dana wondered if she’d misunderstood, but no, Wendy’s earnest gaze never wavered from Santa’s face.

“New lungs for your Mommy?” Joe Sansone caught Dana’s gaze and lifted a questioning brow.

Dana gave a helpless shrug and swept a glance around the area. Sure enough, there was a woman wearing oxygen seated in a wheelchair off to the side of the group of rambunctious kids. In addition to appearing pale and drawn, the woman looked familiar. Dana wrinkled her brow, trying to place her.

“Yes.” Wendy bobbed her head. “My Mommy’s on the transplant list, but we’ve been waiting a really, really long time.”

“I see.” Santa cleared his throat, and Dana suspected Joe was hesitant to promise something that would likely take a medical miracle. Of all the various transplant lists, waiting for lungs took the longest. A wave of compassion swept over her.

“Please? I know it’s asking for a lot, but I don’t need any toys and neither does my brother, Chad.”

“Come on, Wen.” Her brother rolled his eyes and looked around as if embarrassed. “Hurry up, already.”

“I promise to pass your request on to Santa, but he can’t make new lungs in his toy shop,” Joe cautioned.

“I know. But Santa is magic, so I’m sure he can get my Mommy a new set of lungs without having to make them.” Wendy Kinkade smiled, revealing a gap from her missing front tooth. “Thanks Mr. Santa’s helper.”

Chad walked up to lift his sister down from Santa’s lap then turned away, obviously too grown-up to take his turn on Santa’s lap. “Geez, Wen. I can’t believe you didn’t ask for the latest Glo-doll or a new bike. Santa’s not going to be able to help Mom move up on the transplant list.” With a snort of disgust, he reached for her hand. “Let’s go. Mom’s waiting.”

“Wait, don’t forget your gift.” Dana pulled herself together long enough to grab a gift stocking out of her bag for Wendy. “Do you want one too, Chad? There’s candy inside.”

The boy looked as if he might refuse then gave a jerky nod. “Thanks,” he muttered when she handed him another stocking. He tugged on his sister’s hand, steering her through the crowd towards where the woman in the wheelchair waited patiently. Finally her memory clicked.

“Jessica Kinkade.” Dana snapped her fingers as she recognized the patient who’d been admitted off and on to the ICU. Dana looked at Joe. “Wendy’s mother has pulmonary hypertension. She’d been admitted to the ICU when the condition flares up to the point where she can’t breathe.”

“She’s young, pulmonary hypertension is a good reason to be on the lung transplant list. Hopefully, she’ll do better than most.” Joe Sansone shook his head, then straightened his beard when it slipped. “Poor kids. I hope their mom gets a chance at a second life, soon.”

“Me too.” Dana didn’t have time to say more as the next child was already climbing onto Santa’s lap.

One of the kids stepped on her foot. “Ouch.” She reached down to massage her toes through the felt elf shoes. “No fighting with the balloons,” she warned using her best stern voice as two boys set out to knock each other silly.

The boys stopped batting each other for all of two seconds, then went at it again. Feeling a headache begin to throb along her temple, she motioned for one of the other elves, Susan from physical therapy, to take over the job of keeping the kids in line and handing out the gift stockings. Then she inched over to where Jessica sat near her children.

“Santa is too, magic.” Wendy looked close to tears as she stared mutinously at her brother, tiny hands propped on her hips. Dana’s heart went out to the little girl. “He can so get Mommy a new set of lungs.”

“You’re such a baby,” Chad argued in a dismissive tone. “Stop talking about it, already. You’re upsetting Mom.”

Dana was willing to bet listening to her kids arguing rather than anything Wendy had done was causing the strain lining Jessica’s features. She stepped closer, ready to intervene. “Hi Jessica. Are these your children? I can’t believe how much they have grown since I last saw them.”

“Yes, they’re--growing like weeds--every day.” Jessica had to pause to take a breath often, still she appeared grateful for the interruption. “You’re cute--as an elf--Dana.”

“Guess my disguise isn’t working real well, huh?” Dana flashed a rueful smile as she gave the tights another subtle hike. She turned towards Wendy and Chad. “Are you two hungry? There’s cookies and punch over there.” Dana gestured to the other side of the room, where a group of kids had gathered in front of a long table laden with treats.

“Cookies?” Chad’s attention was successfully diverted to food. “Cool. Do you want one Mom?”

“No thanks--you both--go ahead.” Jessica watched them run off.

“How are you really feeling, Jessica?” Dana noted the dusky tinge around the woman’s mouth with concern. “Have you been seen in the clinic lately?”

“Yes. I was—just admitted—yesterday-to a room—on Four West.” Jessica sighed. “I’m hoping—they can adjust—my meds—so I can go—home soon.”

Jessica didn’t look well enough to be discharged but before Dana could say anything more, there was a muffled cry from halfway across the room. She turned in time to see the two rowdy boys hit Wendy hard enough to knock her backward, off her feet.

“Hey!” Dana rushed over to Wendy, giving the boys a stern look. “I already told you once, no fighting.”

She set the girl on her feet and to her surprise, Wendy wrapped her arms around Dana’s legs and buried her face in the green fabric of her tunic.

“What’s wrong, Wendy? Did those boys hurt you?” Dana scowled toward the offenders.

“No.” Wendy shook her head, then peered up at Dana through tear-tipped lashes. “Do you think Santa is magic?”

“Ah—sure I do.” Was she wrong to encourage the child to believe in magic and miracles when she didn’t believe in them herself? Maybe. Yet no way could she be cruel enough to wipe the blatant hope from Wendy’s bright eyes.

“Really?” Wendy’s lower lip trembled. “Or are you just saying that because you’re dressed like an elf?”

The mere mention of the annoying elf costume made her legs itch. She subtly rubbed one leg over the other, then bent down to smooth a hand over Wendy’s bright silky red hair. “Sweetheart, I think there is all sorts of magic in the world. Love is just like magic. You love your mother and she loves you. There’s nothing more powerful than that.”

For a moment, Wendy clung to her legs, then finally her expression cleared and she let go. Dana took her hand and walked her back to where her mother waited. Chad joined them soon afterwards and once the boy had stuffed the last bit of cookie in his mouth, he promptly took charge of his mom’s wheelchair.

“Bye, Jessica. I’ll come up to visit before I start my shift.” Dana waved as Chad wheeled his mom away.

Dana watched them walk off, the kids acting very adult-like as they took care to make sure their mom’s wheelchair didn’t hit anything. The knot in her belly grew as she suspected there wasn’t enough magic in the world to ensure Jessica Kinkade received a lung transplant as a Christmas present.

Poor Wendy. Dana couldn’t stand the thought of the little girl being so upset and disappointed, especially during the holiday season.

Dana straightened her shoulders and pursed her lips. Finding holiday spirit would be difficult to do for her own sake, but she could support Jessica’s kids. Maybe she couldn’t give Jessica a new pair of lungs, but she could remain positive enough to help boost holiday morale for her patients and their families.

And in doing so, she’d fulfil the promise she’d made to her mother.

* * *

After making two wrong turns, Dr. Mitch Reynolds finally found the cafeteria, but the place looked like a war zone. Kids dashed from one side of the room to the other among a sea of red, green and white balloons. The familiar pang of longing pierced his heart and his appetite evaporated. He turned away, intent on putting as much distance between himself and the painful reminder, when he caught sight of a petite brunette, wearing a strange elf costume, hugging a child wrapped around her legs.

Arrested by the image, he froze. The woman wasn’t classically beautiful, but pretty, in spite of the neon green tights and tunic. What held his attention was the way she tended to the child, smoothing a hand over the girl’s bright red hair and smiling down at her with a caring, compassionate gaze.

The perfect cameo of a mother. He closed his eyes for a moment, then when he looked again, he realized the brunette elf was leading the girl towards a woman seated in a wheelchair. Soon, a boy joined them and the two kids pushed the woman in the wheelchair towards the elevator, leaving the elf behind. The woman in the wheelchair and the two kids all shared the same bright red hair.

Apparently the cute elf wasn’t the girl’s mother.

He shook off the ridiculous thought. What difference did it make? Meeting women wasn’t high on his list of priorities at the moment. He definitely wasn’t in the market for another woman or a family. Bells jangled at the elf’s wrists and ankles when she walked over to break up a fight between two boys who kept swatting at other kids with their balloons. His gaze lingered on her legs, until he pulled himself together.

Enough. The cute elf wasn’t his concern. In fact, if he were smart he’d stay far away from any hint of temptation. Abandoning the cafeteria, he headed for the deli on the other side of the hospital. Someone mentioned the deli wasn’t fully operational on the weekends, but there were cold sandwiches available in the various vending machines. To his mind, vending machine food was a far better option than facing the crowd of kids in the cafeteria.

Mitch sighed and jammed his hands into the pockets of his lab coat. The Chief of Pulmonary/Critical Care Medicine, Dr. Ed Jericho, had recruited him to Trinity Medical Center from Kansas City University Hospital. So far, the change of scenery had been good for him. Milwaukee was surprisingly nice, a combination of big city and small town sort of packed into one. If not for the holiday decorations haunting him at every turn, he’d feel better about his decision to move, to start over after two of the worst years of his life.

The bitter taste of anguish lingered on his tongue. Although he’d had two years to work his way through the maze of grief, the holidays were always the hardest to face. A constant reminder of everything he’d loved and lost. Short of transferring to a position in Siberia, the holiday theme would have no doubt been a problem no matter where he worked. At least the job here at Trinity Medical Center was a good one. He loved the challenge of critical care and with this position as an assistant professor he could take care of patients and teach new residents.

Starting over, creating a new life for himself.

He found the deli to be much quieter than the cafeteria. After shoving a couple of dollar-bills into the slot of a vending machine, he took his sandwich and sat at one of the empty seats. The ham and swiss on rye tasted like rubber, but he wasn’t all that hungry anyway. Glancing at his watch, he figured he had at least another ten minutes before he needed to get back up to the ICU. He’d finished making rounds, but still needed to write daily progress notes on all the patients under his care.

“Code Blue, Four-West. Code Blue, Four-West.” The overhead announcement sent him rushing to his feet.

Four West? He tossed the remains of his ham on rye in the garbage on his way out the door. He had a vague idea where the Four-West wing was, and even though his residents would respond, he wanted to be there as well to supervise. This was his first emergency situation here at Trinity and he intended to make sure things ran smoothly.

Adrenaline kicked in as he ran up the stairs to the fourth floor. Breathless, he reached the landing, then followed the rest of the Code Blue responders as they dashed toward a patient’s room where a crash cart was also being rolled inside.

“Wait! Don’t intubate her yet.” A female voice rose in agitation above the din. “She has pulmonary hypertension. Just bag her for a few minutes.”

Mitch entered the room, and somehow wasn’t shocked to find the brunette-haired elf holding off the anesthesiologist who appeared very annoyed.

“What’s going on?”

The elf turned toward him. “Jessica Kinkade has pulmonary hypertension and is on the lung transplant list. If you intubate her, you’ll never be able to get the tube out. I really think we should try a non-invasive method to improve her oxygenation, first.”

“And who are you?” Mitch moved to the patient’s bedside, recognizing the woman in the wheelchair from the party earlier. A quick glance around the room ascertained the two children weren’t sitting there watching the commotion.

“I’m Dana Whitney, one of the nurses in the ICU. I know Jessica, as she’s been admitted several times.”

“Hold off on the intubation,” Mitch directed the anesthesiologist. “Dana is right, we need to try a bi-pap mask first.”

“I have one here.” The respiratory therapist held up the device.

Mitch took it from his fingers. “Dana, has Jessica used this bi-pap mask before?”

“Yes.” Dana’s expression was tense as he removed the ambu bag and placed the bi-pap mask over the patient’s nose and mouth. With the respiratory therapist’s help, they connected the apparatus so that there was an additional push of pressure with every breath Jessica took.

“I’d like to give her a touch of Versed to relax her. These bi-pap masks are difficult to tolerate.”

“I know.” Dana frowned, trying to remember. “I believe we used Versed before, but in small amounts.”

“Let’s start with one miligram.” Mitch kept his eye on the pulse oximeter reading, showing an oxygen saturation of 80%. Pretty low, even with PPH primary pulmonary hypertension, he’d rather see the number a little closer to ninety percent.

“Sounds good,” Dana agreed, looking relieved.

He nodded to the medication administration nurse standing on the other side of the bed. At his signal, she bent to inject the medication into Jessica’s IV.

The rest of the Code Blue team stood back to let Dana and Mitch take care of the situation. For a moment their gazes collided, startling him when a flash of awareness sprang between them. He tore his gaze away with an effort. He couldn’t deny he was glad elf Dana was here to help guide him, since he wasn’t nearly as familiar with the patient’s history as she was.

“Pulse ox is up to 88%,” Dana announced with relief. “Much better.”

“Yeah, but I’d still like to keep an eye on her in the ICU for at least the next twenty-four hours.” He couldn’t help raking his gaze over her green attire only partially covered by a paper gown she’d obviously donned when Jessica’s condition deteriorated. As much as he appreciated a nice pair of legs the green tights were a bit much. “Are you actually on duty in that get-up?”

She blushed and tugged the paper gown over her tunic self-consciously. “Not yet, I start at three. I was on my way to visit Jessica when the code was called.”

“If you don’t mind, maybe you could punch in earlier. I could use your help to get up to speed on Ms. Kinkade’s medical history.”

She stared for a minute at his name printed across the upper left breast pocket of his lab coat. They’d never met but he figured she’d no doubt recognize his name as the new attending on duty. “Certainly, Dr. Reynolds.” For some reason her crisp response made him want to grin. “But first, I need to let Chad and Wendy know what’s going on.”

The patient’s children. His smile faded. “Of course.” He turned to the resident who was supposed to be in charge of the Code Blue but hadn’t said a word while Dana argued with the anesthesiologist. “Steve, I’m trusting you to get Ms. Kinkade safely transferred to the ICU. Once you get there, prepare to place an arterial line but wait for me before you start the procedure.”

“Yes sir.” The resident nodded.

“Do you have any questions?” Mitch had his doubts about the resident’s ability to handle the simple transfer. The guy hadn’t exactly stepped up to take a leadership role during the emergency situation.

“No sir.” The resident shook his head.

“Good. I’ll meet you over there in a few minutes.”

“I can talk to the kids myself,” Dana protested.

“No.” As much as he wanted to avoid the task, avoid the children, his sense of duty wouldn’t let him. He rubbed a hand over his stomach as if to dislodge the heavy boulder of dread sitting there. Forcing himself to stay when he really wanted nothing more than to follow the patient to the ICU he gestured to the door. “We’ll both talk to them.”

Read an excerpt from

The Flight Doctor's Engagement
Available at eHarlequin.com August 2006

CHAPTER ONE

Her seventeen-year-old sister was late. Again.

Jenna Reed opened one eye and looked at the illuminated dials of her clock. Yep, almost midnight. Rae’s curfew was eleven-thirty. Where in the heck was she?

Exhaling on a long breath, Jenna flopped onto her back and un-twisted her ratty T-shirt from the sheet. Outside, ribald shouts coalesced with the heavy beat of rap music despite the late hour. Not that the noise was unusual for a Thursday night, this area dubbed Barclay Park located in the heart of Milwaukee was rarely quiet. Her house was packed like a sardine beside her neighbors and the walls were paper-thin, but normally she slept like a rock.

Unless her sister happened to be out with Nelson, her numbskull boyfriend, then sleeping was next to impossible. Rae didn’t care if Jenna had to be up at six in the morning to make it to work at Lifeline Medical Air Rescue by seven.

Or maybe her sly sister was actually banking on that fact, hoping to sneak in without waking her.

Ha! Fat chance.

Squealing tires and a thunderous crash jolted her from bed.

“Help! Someone help!”

Jenna rushed outside, sparing no more than two seconds to jam her feet into flip-flop sandals lying beside the door. Her eyes widened when she saw what all the fuss was about, a car had smashed head-first into the light pole in the abandoned lot across the street. Her paramedic training kicked in.

She hurried to the crash site, pushing her way through the small crowd. “How many people are inside?” Jenna peered through the windows. “Two?”

“Three, I think there’s a baby in the back seat,” one teen pointed out.

“Anyone hurt?” She tried to open the driver’s door, but it was seriously dented and wouldn’t budge. Through the window, she could see the driver was slumped over, his face covered in blood. The car was old, built in a time before airbags had become the norm.

“Call 911, tell them we have three victims in a single car crash, at least one victim seriously injured,” she directed.

A familiar pierced, purple-haired teenager, about the same age as her sister, used her cell phone for something more useful than text-messaging, while Jenna worked on trying to find a way into the car. The driver’s rear door was locked, so she made her way around to the passenger side where the back window happened to be open a few inches.

“They’re sending the Lifeline helicopter,” the breathless teen informed her.

“They are?” Jenna lifted a brow in surprise. Normally they didn’t send the chopper downtown unless the crew just happened to be close by.

“How are we going to get them out?” The teen, what was her name? LuAnn? Peered anxiously inside the car.

“Very carefully.” Jenna stepped around the broken glass from the light pole. Snaking her arm through the tiny opening, she reached downward.

“There.” She pulled up on the old fashioned lock. With the back doors unlocked, they could at least get to the now wailing infant. Thank heavens the kid was a car seat.

There wasn’t time for Jenna to run back inside the house for her stethoscope. She wasn’t a nurse, but she could at least tell the difference between seriously injured and stable without the aid of medical equipment. In examining the baby, there wasn’t a speck of blood to be seen. He looked fine, with a healthy set of lungs. “Here, keep an eye on him for me.” She handed the crying infant to LuAnn who was standing with a group of other kids Jenna recognized from MECT, the Milwaukee Community Center for Teens. Apparently, Rae wasn’t the only one out late.

Back inside the car, she crawled up between the seats. The woman in the passenger seat groaned, moving restlessly in her seat so Jenna zeroed her attention on the still silent driver. She pressed two fingers along his neck, searching for a pulse.

For a moment she feared the worst, then felt the slight, thready beat. Relief overwhelmed her. He was still alive, although the distinctive scent of alcohol made her wrinkle her nose. “Hey mister, can you hear me?”

No response. She stared at the driver’s chest. He was breathing, but the motion was shallow. He’d need medical attention pretty quick. She glanced around the interior of the car. How could she get him out without causing potentially more damage?

“Ma’am? Can you hear me?” She turned her attention on the passenger.

“Yes.” The voice was faint and Jenna figured she was only a little better off than the driver.

“What hurts?”

“Everything, but mostly my chest.”

“Okay, don’t move. Help will be here soon,” Jenna reassured her.

The whirling beat of the Lifeline chopper overhead along with the distinctive wail of sirens echoed through the night. She didn’t dare move the driver without further assistance, so she backed out of the car, and pried open the passenger door to gain better access to the woman. The helicopter landed in the vacant lot. Two people dressed in flight suits pulled a gurney from the back of the chopper and headed across the litter strewn parking lot to meet them.

She recognized the taller of the two and inwardly groaned. Of all the crew members on staff, why did Zach Taylor have to be the Flight Doctor on duty tonight?

“Jenna?” His eyes widened with recognition and she was surprised to discover he remembered her name. He stared for a long second at her bare legs and she resisted the urge to tug at the hem of her T-shirt. Did it cover her nearly bare behind? Golly, she hoped so. “You live around here?” His tone was laced with incredulous concern.

Hoping the darkness hid her flaming cheeks, she chose to ignore his question. “We have a twenty-two year old woman with blunt chest trauma, complaining of chest pain.” Concentrating on work helped overcome her mortification. “The driver is also suffering blunt trauma, including an apparent head injury. He’s in bad shape, not responding to verbal commands. I crawled in through the back seat, he did have a pulse but the rate is fast and his breathing, shallow.”

“Let’s take a look.” Zach oozed a confidence she envied. Overly conscious of how she stood outside in her rattiest sleep shirt without a bra or even a pair of shorts to cover her panties, Jenna would have given her entire life savings earmarked for Rae’s college, to slither away through the gathering crowd.

Kate, the flight nurse on duty knelt beside the passenger, examining her. Zach went straight for the driver.

“Jenna, give me a hand with this guy.” Zach gestured for her to come over to the other side of the car.

Her chance to escape vanished.

Between them, she and Zach helped to get the driver out of his seat, protecting his spine as much as possible in case there were fractures they weren’t aware of. Once they’d gotten him into the back seat, they could actually begin taking care of him.

“Let’s put a C-collar on him, then get him on the gurney so we can work.”

Jenna pulled equipment out of the flight bag as he spoke, anticipating what they’d need. Her long, straight unbound hair was a nuisance, and she shoved it aside with the back of her forearm to keep the strands out of her way. Once they had the driver safely transferred onto the gurney, Zach continued to dictate orders.

“We need an IV. Set up a normal saline infusion.”

Jenna had only worked for Lifeline for the past seven months and could count on one hand the number of times she’d been paired to fly with Zach and that was mostly during her training when a third person had been around as a diversion. For whatever reason, their schedules always seemed opposite, either they were on different shifts or he was working on her off days and vice versa. The simple bit of fate had suited her just fine.

Until tonight’s curve-ball.

Zach threaded the catheter into the guy’s vein then she took over, connecting the tubing and regulating his fluids. In another few minutes, they had him ready to go.

Strange, but working with Zach was easier than she’d anticipated, as if they’d been partners for years.

“Two liters of fluid have been infused, Dr. Taylor.”

“Thanks.” Zach flashed her a quick, lethal smile. Her stomach clenched and she fought the wave of awareness knowing full well he smiled at everyone, it didn’t mean a thing. Zach Taylor was so far out of her stratosphere, she wasn’t even on the same planet. He was as unreachable as Pluto while she was stuck on mere planet earth.

Jenna took a hasty step back and winced at the sharp, biting pain in her foot. She glanced down and noticed her left foot was covered in blood. Hers or the driver’s she wasn’t quite sure.

“What happened?” Zach must have noticed the direction of her gaze because he stared at her foot in horror while still clutching the edge of the gurney. “Sit down. We need to get one of the paramedics to take a look.”

She forced a smile. “I am a paramedic, remember? Go on, take care of the trauma patients, I’m fine.”

“Let them take a look.” He sent her a no-nonsense glare then pushed the gurney toward the chopper. Kate had the female passenger on another gurney and gestured for the paramedics to take over the care of the infant and the mother. Within moments, Kate had joined Zach and they stowed the driver in the back of the chopper then went airborne. Soon the other paramedics prepared to leave as well. She didn’t bother asking one of them to look at her foot, she’d take care of it herself.

“Jenna?”

She turned and found Rae standing there. Her sister didn’t look seventeen at all, dressed in a tiny mini-skirt and a midriff baring tank top. Gads, she hoped her sister and her goofy boyfriend weren’t having unprotected sex. She so did not want to think about Rae ending up pregnant. Sex, drugs and rap music was the norm. Raising a teenager these days was far from easy.

“What happened here?” Rae gazed at the crash scene with morbid fascination.

“You’re late,” Jenna snapped. “Where have you been?”

Rae shrugged one bare shoulder. “Chill out, so we lost track of time. It’s no big deal. Soon I have to start cramming for finals. Get off my back, Sis.” The sharp emphasis on the last word, rankled.

Jenna stepped close and wrapped her arms around Rae in a big hug, a nice way of getting into her sister’s face. No strong scent of alcohol or pot, thank heavens. A fact that didn’t discount any other drugs, but she preferred not to think the worst. Just a couple of weeks until Rae graduated high school, then another few months until she started college. Jenna’s goal wouldn’t be complete until Rae graduated from college, but finishing high school was the first huge hurdle.

Rae didn’t tolerate the embrace for long. She broke away and rolled her eyes, then spun on her heel and stalked inside their house as if she always came home well after midnight on a school night.

Jenna sighed and followed more slowly, wincing with every painful step. Her own high school years were a blur. She couldn’t remember going out to have fun, and sometimes it was hard not to resent Rae for her easy dismissal of the rules. Still, Jenna was grateful there was only one person dependent on her now.

With any luck, she’d pull herself out of debt soon.

As she doused her injured foot in the bathtub, looking for signs of imbedded glass, Jenna tried not to remember Zach’s reaction at finding her at the crash scene or the incredulous tone in his voice when he’d asked if she lived there.

She closed her eyes and leaned her over-heated forehead against the cool tile. Good thing they didn’t fly together often because she didn’t think she could ever look him in the eye again. Now that he knew the truth, she planned to continue to avoid Zach Taylor in every way possible.

Read an excerpt from

The Consultant's Homecoming
Available at eHarlequin.com June 2006

PROLOGUE

March 14, 2005

As she walked into her apartment, the phone rang. Abby Monroe frowned. Was someone from the hospital calling already? She’d just left. Had she forgotten to chart one of her meds? She dropped her bag and dashed across the room to pick up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Abby?” Her older bother’s voice sounded strange.

“Hi Adam.” She frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Silence. Alarm skittered across her nerves.

“Mom? Dad? Did something happen?”

“No, our parents are fine.” His reassuring tone made her relax.

“What, then? I’m just walked in the door from work.”

“It’s Shane, Abby. He--there was a horrible accident—a plane crash in the mountains of Beijing and—-damn, Abby. He didn’t make it.”

No. Dear God, no!

Dazed, she sank to the floor. This couldn’t be happening. There had to be some mistake. Shane was too young, only thirty-three, he couldn’t possibly be dead. She shook her head, wanting to scream in protest, but Adam’s heavy silence held her in check. She’d known Shane her entire life, mostly because Shane was her brother’s best friend. For years, her parents treated Shane as if he were part of the family.

One day, she’d hoped to marry him, making Shane a part of the family for good.

“I’m sorry, Adam.” She forced herself to ignore her own pain to consider what her brother was going through. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I guess.” He didn’t sound at all confident. “I still need to let Mom and Dad know.”

“I’ll be right over.” No way was she letting Adam tell her parents alone.

“Thanks Abby.” Her brother sounded old. Tired.

She put down the phone then buried her face in her hands, allowing the keening sorrow and tears to come.

Her relationship with Shane had only just grown beyond friendship stage, but now he was gone.

Forever.

CHAPTER ONE

Four Months Later…

“Come on, Mr. Goetz, you’re almost there,” Abby encouraged the older man who leaned heavily on is walker as he made his way slowly, painfully, down the hall towards the community dining room at the Veteran’s Hospital’s rehabilitation center.

“Bah, I ain’t almost there.” The stodgy old man scowled and set his walker down on the linoleum floor then shuffled his feet to catch up. “I don’t know why you people don’t let me eat in my room.”

Abby couldn’t help but smile. “Because we care too much about you, to let you wallow in misery alone, that’s why. Look at the bright sunlight pouring through the windows. It’s a beautiful day.”

One rubber corner of his walker stuck to the floor and he lost his balance, leaning heavily to his left side, his weak side.

“It’s all right, I have you.” Abby quickly tightened the muscles of her arm beneath his, supporting his weight the best she could while hanging onto the walker to keep it from toppling over. After a few tense minutes, Mr. Goetz managed to get his left leg steadied beneath him and slowly shifted his weight so it was equally distributed.

Still, Abby didn’t loosen her grip on his arm or the walker. “Are you all right, Mr. Goetz? I promise, I won’t let go until you are.”

“Yeah, yeah. I got it.” The near miss collision with the floor eased some of his crustiness. “I can make it.”

“I know you can,” she assured him. “And I’ll be right here with you, the entire way.”

The tomato scent of lasagna filled the air as they drew closer to the dining room. Another two steps and he managed to get into position to sit down at the table where three other men waited. Without any help, he eased into his seat.

“You did great, Mr. Goetz.” Abby moved his walker so it was out of the way, but not out of his reach. “I’m proud of you.”

“You would be.” Despite his earlier protests, his scowl eased into a smile and already he was in better spirits when surrounded by his cronies. “When are you gonna marry me, Abby Monroe?”

She laughed. His proposal was as regular as the noontime meal. “Mr. Goetz, you know my answer. I can’t marry you, or anyone,” she added, sternly eyeing the other men seated at the table, who often joined in, “until I’ve met my goal of traveling to all fifty states.”

“Eh? What’s so great about you wanting to leave here?” Mr. Sutherland asked. “We all signed the petition so you would stay.”

Abby barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “I’m not leaving for another five weeks, Mr. Sutherland, so relax. Chances are, you’ll be home long before then. And please, stop signing petitions. This is my choice, not the Veterans’ Hospital’s decision.”

“Abby?” One of the nurses flagged her from the main desk. “Dr. Roland is on the phone.”

“Don’t let him hang up, I’ll be right there.” Abby had paged the physical medicine specialist four times since the start of her shift to discuss Mr. Goetz’s care. She forced a smile on her face. “Enjoy your meal, gentleman. And remember, behave.”

“Aw, Abby, what fun is that?” Mr. Baker asked in a plaintive tone.

She laughed and shook her head as she left the dining room. Reaching over the desk, she pushed the blinking light on the multi-button phone. “Dr. Roland? I’ve been calling you all morning.”

“I’m busy.”

She should have known he wouldn’t apologize, and she bit her tongue, forcing herself to concentrate on the matter at hand. “The results of the urine sample we sent yesterday on Harold Goetz indicate he has another severe bladder infection. He needs another seven to ten day course of antibiotics. For some reason, we can’t clear up this infection.”

“Give him ten-days of double strength Bactrim. Is that all?” his tone indicated he didn’t think this measly phone call was worthy of his time.

“I don’t know. Are you going to bother calling back the next time I page you?” Abby challenged.

There was a moment of silence, then the volcano erupted. “Don’t tell me how to practice medicine. I always return my pages and don’t you dare insinuate otherwise.” He slammed the phone in her ear.

“Ouch.” Abby winced and hung up. “Boy, apparently the truth hurts.”

Irene, the other nurse on the unit stared at her with wide eyes. “I can’t believe you said that to him.”

“Yeah, well I’m tired of his antics.” Abby reached for Mr. Goetz’s chart so she could write the order. “If Roland ever made rounds, he’d know these things for himself, wouldn’t he?” Irene nodded in agreement so she continued, “He hasn’t shown his face around here for four days, at least not on day shift and not any other time either, according to the notes on the charts.”

“I know. But still. I can’t believe you actually said that to him.” Irene was a newer graduate nurse, just three years younger than Abby but at times like this, she felt as if she were a hundred years older. “What if he complains to the boss about you?”

“Let him.” Abby shrugged even though she knew Roland could cause trouble for her if he wanted to. Despite being absent-more-often-than-not, Dr. Roland was still the Medical Director of the physical medicine rehab unit. Dealing with Roland was one of those things she wouldn’t miss when she left to take her traveling nurse position in Florida. Although she was worried about what would happen to the patients when she was gone. If she didn’t blow the whistle on Dr. Roland, who would?

“Here, send this order down to the pharmacy.” Abby handed the slip of paper to Irene. “And keep an eye on our patients. I’d better go see Leanne Walters, the nursing director, and let her know my side of the story, before Roland gets to her.”

Irene gave a heavy sigh. “All right, but if she asks me, I’m going to have to tell her the truth about what I overheard you say.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t ask you to lie for me,” Abby reassured Irene. “I’ll tell her exactly what I said myself, along with the fact he hasn’t made rounds in days.” Abby flashed a grim smile. Considering she’d already given her notice, her last day of employment was August 15th, she didn’t really care if Leanne fired her, although if her boss did, the long-term patients would have a reason for their silly petition. Technically, she had nearly enough vacation time to cover the gap.

Go ahead, she thought, finding the nursing director’s door and pounding on it, make my day.

Three hours later, the end of her shift came all too quickly. There were never enough hours in the day to get the work finished. Leanne had made her sign a counseling session about being more tactful when talking to the physicians. At least Leanne Walters hadn’t yelled at her too much, plus her boss had promised to follow up with the Chief of Staff about Dr. Roland’s lack of rounds. As she headed home, Abby debated whether or not the chat would do any good. Surely, she couldn’t be the first nurse to complain about the guy.

Yet he was still there, getting paid for taking care of his patients from the comfort of his easy chair on the other end of a phone rather than in person, using an actual stethoscope to do his own assessments.

The summer day was warm, but not too hot as she walked the short six blocks home to her parent’s house. She rolled her shoulders in an effort to ease the nagging ache. Grabbing Mr. Goetz so he wouldn’t fall had strained the muscles in her upper back. Again.

But she didn’t dare think of complaining, not when she had to go home and help lift her incapacitated mother in and out of the bathtub. She stifled a sigh, immediately ashamed at the selfish thought.

Shane’s death had taken a toll on their whole family. Abby had grieved for what would never be, then decided this was the perfect time to break loose from her family. To experience her dream of seeing the world. She’d always wanted to travel, but losing Shane had been hard. Then, just when things had begun to return to normal, her mother had tripped over their dog, Murphy, and fell down the stairs.

Her mom’s broken hip was healing slowly but surely. Her dad watched over her mother while she was at work, but he couldn’t do all the cares himself. At least the fracture was on the mend. Soon, her mother wouldn’t need help at all.

Her parents had been upset by her decision to leave home and travel, but she couldn’t let her love for them sway her from her goal. She’d lived vicariously through her older siblings for years, now it was time for her to do something for herself. She missed having her own apartment, forced into giving up her lease after her mother broke her hip. There were also five other Monroe siblings to keep an eye on her parents.

Once she’d planned to travel with Shane. Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. She’d known him her whole life, and just before he’d left for China, he’d kissed her, finally giving her a hint he was ready to take their relationship to the next level. Waiting for Shane to return home had been pure agony. Still, she hadn’t blamed him for jumping at the chance to participate in a special surgical training program in Beijing.

Losing him felt surreal. Any minute, she expected him to vault onto the porch of her parent’s house, demanding to know what was for dinner.

A heavy ache settled in her heart. She missed him.

As she approached her parent’s house, she noticed a man with a cane who looked to be in his early thirties, standing and staring at the house number on a plaque at the edge of the road. He was tall, at least six-feet, his back ram-rod straight and his dark hair cut military short. For a moment she wondered if he was a lost soldier looking for the Veteran’s hospital, then realized his worn jeans and T-shirt wasn’t anything close to a uniform.

He didn’t seem to notice her until she was right next to him. With a polite smile, she greeted him. “Hello, may I help you? Are you lost?”

“Uh—yes. I’m looking for the Monroe house, and for Abigail Monroe.”

Her eyes widened. “I’m Abby Monroe.”

“Oh.” He frowned, trailing his gaze over her. “I expected someone—older.”

She bit back a flash of impatience, she was twenty-six, not sixteen and more than a little tired of people assuming the latter. “Well I’m not expecting anyone,” she countered. “What can I do for you?”

Belatedly, she noticed a dark blue duffel bag on the ground at his feet. He leaned down and carefully extracted a battered cigar box. His facial expression didn’t change as he straightened, but she sensed he was in excruciating pain the way each movement was slow and deliberate. With a solemn expression, he held out the box to her. “I have something that belongs to you. I’m sorry it took me so long to bring this, I was--unwillingly detained.”

She didn’t know who this guy was, and she was too tired to care. Crossing her arms over her chest, she silently refused his dubious offering. “Who are you? Why would you have anything that belongs to me?”

“I’m Nick Tremayne, a friend of Shane Reinhart’s. This box contains letters and e-mail messages you sent to Shane during the time we were both on a six-month surgical training stint in Beijing, China.” A muscle ticked in his cheek and his tone revealed no emotion as he added, “I’m very sorry for your loss.”

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