He Calls Her Doc

He Calls Her Doc
Mary Brady

Maude DeVane is home in Montana to prove to the set-in-their-ways townsfolk that she's the doctor they need.What she doesn't need is an arrogant E.R. physician competing on her own turf. Especially if he's Guy Daley. Five years ago they shared a kiss she's been trying to forget ever since. And that's not possible with Guy here raising his teenage niece and spending far too much time at Maude's clinic.It's like a prescription to fall for him again. Worse, Guy's presence is not helping her with the townsfolk. How can she be their GP if they seek him for treatment? And if she has to leave the valley behind, will she lose her chance to find healing…and love?

“What’s happening?”

Guy’s grip on Maude’s arm stopped her and brought her back under the rain-battered awning.

“I’ve got a patient coming in.”

He pulled her closer and held her by both arms. Reflexively she raised her hands, then balled them into fists instead of putting them on his chest as she wanted to do. She tried to concentrate on a raindrop trickling down her face, but all she could see was the darkness of his eyes and all she could hear was the pounding of her heart. She needed to kiss this man.

Slowly, as if time had no meaning, he lowered his mouth to hers and the fire burst inside her. Flames raged through her senses and threatened to consume everything except her desire for him—until the doctor took over.

She pushed back. “I’ve got to go.”

Dear Reader,

Rugged western Montana urged me to tell a story amid its soaring mountains and sweeping pine forests. To do so, I needed characters who would stand out against a backdrop of magnificent scenery. Maude and Guy, two doctors so wounded they could not heal themselves, fit the roles well.

Enemies in the past and now touched by the same tragedy, they must forgive each other—then forgive themselves. When they do, the passion between them becomes love. With love as big as all Montana, they make a family for a little girl orphaned by the same tragic loss.

Sometimes life hurts. I believe it is the pain that shows us how brightly the joy can shine.

I loved taking these three “injured by life” people and, in my first book for Harlequin, molding a fiercely loving family who couldn’t imagine living without one another. I hope you love them, too.

I’d love to hear from you. Visit my Web site at www.marybrady.net or write to me at MaryBrady@ marybrady.net.

Regards and happy reading,

Mary Brady

HE CALLS HER DOC

Mary Brady

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Mary Brady lives in the Midwest and considers road trips into the rest of the continent to be a necessary part of life. When she’s not out exploring, she helps run a manufacturing company and has a great time living with her handsome husband, her super son and one cheeky little bird.

For my husband and son, with whom I make my own

fiercely loving—and laughing—family of three.

Acknowledgments

My thanks to the people of Montana, who have never been anything but welcoming to me and who won’t know where to find the town of St. Adelbert, because it exists only in my mind.

And to Dr. Gillian Rickmeier, who selflessly answered my questions about the medical field. That said, any errors in this book—especially errors concerning medical issues—are mine and mine alone.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER ONE

MAUDE DEVANE, M.D., bypassed her crisp white lab coat and slipped on the one with a couple of badges of courage stained faintly into the fabric. Collar turned to the chill of the sunny June morning, she stepped out onto the ramp of the Wm. Avery Clinic’s emergency entrance. Somewhere under the biggest, bluest of Montana skies a man had fallen from a horse.

And she was ready, make that eager, to help her first patient in her brand-new solo practice.

On cue, the Squat-D Ranch’s red pickup truck careened around a corner and raced up Main Street. Traffic in the tiny mountain town of St. Adelbert made way as if they knew the passenger was unconscious.

Some of them probably did.

The truck lurched up the ramp and fishtailed to a halt, engulfing Maude in the smell of oily exhaust.

Curly Martin’s great-grandson Jimmy burst out the driver’s side door. “He still ain’t talking to me, Dr. DeVane!”

The bear-size seventeen-year-old barreled around toward the passenger side. As Maude reached the dusty truck, she leaned in to see the ninety-two-year-old rancher slumped against the door.

“Jimmy, get back in the truck.” Maude conveyed calm in her command. “And hold him in position. Don’t move him at all, especially his head.” And if they were all very lucky, the old man was not already paralyzed.

Jimmy dashed back around and scrambled into the cab. As he cradled his great-grandfather in his giant hands, Maude opened the door and reached in to feel for a pulse.

“Is he dead?” Jimmy peered at her from under the bill of his faded green cap.

She gave him a quick smile. “He’s alive, Jimmy.” Curly Martin, icon, epitome of cowboy in these parts, was not going down to a spill from a horse, not if she had any say.