Her Very Special Boss

Her Very Special Boss
Anne Fraser

Enter into the world of high-flying Doctors as they navigate the pressures of modern medicine and find escape, passion, comfort and love – in each other’s arms!Her courageous boss. Dr Kirsty Boucher has come to work under the blazing African sun in search of a fresh start. Her working conditions couldn’t be more different from her city-girl lifestyle – and then there’s handsome Dr Greg du Toit. Attraction flares between them, although Greg is off-limits – he’s her boss, and he has a tragic past. He also thinks Kirsty isn’t cut out to be a doctor in Africa.Yet as they work together, and the intensity of the conditions brings them closer, he realises Kirsty is something special – someone who allows him to believe he could have a life and a future again, and perhaps even a family…Top Notch Docs He’s not just the boss, he’s the best there is!

TOP-NOTCH DOCS

He’s not just the boss, he’s the best there is!

These heroes aren’t just doctors,

they’re life-savers.

These heroes aren’t just surgeons,

they’re skilled masters. Their talent and

reputation are admired by all.

These heroes are devoted to their patients.

They’ll hold the littlest babies in their arms,

and melt the hearts of all who see.

These heroes aren’t just

medical professionals. They’re the

men of your dreams.

He’s not just the boss, he’s the best there is!

Anne Fraser was born in Scotland, but brought up in South Africa. After she left school she returned to the birthplace of her parents, the remote Western Islands of Scotland. She left there to train as a nurse before going on to university to study English Literature. After the birth of her first child, she and her doctor husband travelled the world, working in rural Africa, Australia and Northern Canada. Anne still works in the health sector. To relax, she enjoys spending time with her family, reading, walking and travelling.

Recent titles by the same author:

DR CAMPBELL’S SECRET SON

Dear Reader

This is my second novel for Mills & Boon, and believe me it is just as exciting for me as getting my first one published.

It is such an honour to be part of a reading tradition that is a hundred years old. I can imagine our grandmothers and mothers reading the same romances through the years, and although times and settings have changed, the basics of a good romance are still the same—hunky men and gorgeous women that we know just have to be together.

I love writing romances because you can set them anywhere in the world. My husband, baby daughter and I spent fifteen months in Africa. While my husband—a doctor—looked after the patients, I looked after our daughter and taught part-time at a local school. Evening meals were taken communally, in ‘staff house’, and it was there I would listen to the doctors and aid workers discussing their days. I think back to the community often and wish we could have done even more. Things have improved a great deal since our time there, but there is still a lot that needs doing. So many children have lost their parents to HIV/AIDS. Therefore I plan to donate some of the earnings of this book to the children of Africa.

I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Best wishes

Anne Fraser

HER VERY SPECIAL BOSS

BY

ANNE FRASER

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

To my husband Stewart and all the doctors and nurses

who work in remote communities for no other reason

than the love of medicine.

CHAPTER ONE

KIRSTY kicked the tyre viciously and squealed in agony as a jolt of pain shot through her ankle. Damn, damn, damn, she cursed as she hopped around on one foot. Could this day—could her life—get any worse?

As if the twelve-hour journey in the cramped rear of the Jumbo hadn’t been bad enough, the airline had lost her luggage. And then, instead of being collected, as she had anticipated, she had found that she had to make the five-hour journey to the hospital on her own in this heap of a car. Keys and directions had been left for her, along with a short note explaining that her driver had to be elsewhere and they would expect her before nightfall. It had taken her much longer than she’d anticipated to navigate herself onto the road heading north and she had found herself going in the wrong direction at least once. What sort of place was this she was going to that they couldn’t be bothered to look after their new staff? What on earth had she let herself in for?

She was tired—no, scrap that, exhausted—and had planned to catch up on some sleep on the journey to the hospital. Instead, here she was in the middle of nowhere, under an endless African sky, with a flat tyre and no idea of how to go about changing it. Under these circumstances back home, she would have phoned road recovery to come to her aid or, failing that, some friend. But here she couldn’t even call for help. She hadn’t got around to converting her mobile phone so that it would work in this country.

Impatiently she swallowed the lump in her throat. No use feeling sorry for yourself, girl, she told herself. She gritted her teeth and studied the directions on the piece of paper in her hand. It looked as if the hospital was only three or four miles along the road—a walkable distance. The air was hot and turgid and Kirsty was aware that if she weren’t careful her pale skin would burn. She should have worn jeans and walking boots, but she had wanted to make a good first impression, so had decided on a white linen blouse, skirt and heels instead. Her shoes with their delicate kitten heels might be the last thing in fashion, but they were no good for a long walk.

One last glance up and down the empty road confirmed what she suspected. She was going to have to complete the rest of the journey on foot. Kirsty had no idea when darkness would fall, but she guessed she’d better get going if she were to make the hospital in daylight.

Alternatively, she could stay in the car. Someone would come looking for her eventually, wouldn’t they? But what if they didn’t? Kirsty shivered at the thought of spending the night on her own. This country was too strange, too vast for her to feel safe, even within the locked doors of the car.

Grabbing her handbag and the tepid water bottle, she set off. The more time she wasted, the more likely it was that she would find herself walking in the dark.

The red dust beside the road coated her shoes as she walked and her ankle began to ache painfully. It was all Robbie’s fault, she thought bitterly. If it weren’t for him she’d never have made the journey to this godforsaken place.

An hour later and, although the sun was beginning to sink in the sky, it was still almost unbearably hot. Kirsty had finished the water and her tongue was beginning to stick to the roof of her mouth. Caked in sweat, she could taste the dust that seemed to cover her body from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She had discarded her shoes and was walking gingerly on blistered feet. She felt her spirits lift for a moment as she saw the matchbox sized shapes of houses in the distance. Perhaps it was the village where the hospital was based? If not, at least there would be people whom she could ask for help.

Kirsty sat down on a rock and rubbed her feet. She would rest for a few moments, not much longer than five minutes, and then carry on. The chance of her reaching help before darkness fell was small but she also knew that once darkness came, her journey would be much more hazardous. Without streetlights, there would be nothing to guide her steps. An eerie cry in the distance brought her to her feet. Were there wild animals out here? Maybe she should have stayed with the car. Instead, she now risked getting mauled by a lion or some other wild animal.

After a short rest, Kirsty forced herself on. Despite walking for another age, the matchbox houses stayed matchbox size. Just when she thought she could walk no further, she saw the flash of sunlight on an approaching car in the distance. Please, let them stop, she prayed. At least if they wouldn’t give her a lift they might have a phone she could use.

She almost cried with relief when the car slowed down before making a U-turn and coming to a stop beside her. The driver wound down the window and Kirsty found herself looking into a pair of glittering blue eyes.

‘Dr Kirsty Boucher?’ a deep voice said incredulously, adding before she could reply, ‘Good grief, woman, what on earth are you up to?’

Relief that the occupant was someone who knew who she was gave way to annoyance. Did he, whoever he was, think she enjoyed walking in her bare feet in temperatures that surely must be close to 100 degrees? Did he think she was the archetypal mad Englishwoman? She opened her mouth to tell him as much when he turned his face and she noticed the scars that ran from his right ear to his jawbone. Years of medical training meant that she was able to disguise her shock, but perhaps not as well as she thought. Or maybe it was an instinctive response, but the man passed his hand over the scar before leaping out of the car and coming around to stand in front of her.

Kirsty felt dwarfed by his massive frame, despite being over five feet eight in her bare feet. She took an involuntary step backwards.

‘I’m Greg. Greg du Toit,’ he said, holding out his hand. ‘We expected you hours ago. What happened?’