The Doctor's Recovery

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#u8e72148e-2fd7-5363-b9b5-51187ea265cb)

MIA FIORE COLLAPSED on the deck of the Poseidon. Hands tugged, rolling her over. Faces blurred above her. The ringing in her ears dulled the shouts snapping into the wind. Her arm burned from wrist to elbow. Her toes and legs tingled as if pricked by a thousand sea urchins. Every breath hurt as if her skintight wet suit crushed her ribs together. An oxygen mask covered her mouth. And when she considered drifting into the beckoning oblivion, one of her crew yelled for her to keep awake.

Each smack of the dive boat against the choppy surf of San Francisco Bay pounded through her body, short-circuiting her thoughts as if rearranging time itself. Her brain skipped through images like a slide show on fast-forward: the predive equipment check, the pair of leopard sharks posed for a picture, her dive knife drifting to the ocean floor, fishing line—so much fishing line—wrapped around her, no air to ascend. Dinner with her film crew in the city. Her father’s laughter. A different dinner with the crew. In a different time. Different place.

Another jolt of her body against the unrelenting bay waters. Another command from her dive partner, Eddy, for Mia to stay with them.

More hands lifted her from the boat onto something soft. The straps across her legs drove those tingles deep into her bones. A woman with calm blue eyes and a paramedic uniform replaced Eddy beside Mia. She rattled off numbers and ordered Mia to stay with her before the sirens drowned out every thought.

The effort to remain conscious exhausted Mia. If she could only rest. Close her eyes. Five minutes. Ten minutes. Recharging moments, her father would call it.

Nausea rolled like a powerful riptide through Mia, jarring her awake. Mia gasped at the loss of clean air.

“Easy.” A hand pressed her back. Another mask covered her mouth.

Fluorescent lights had replaced the sky above her head, and a “code blue” announcement replaced the sound of sirens. Even more hands prodded, shifted and poked at her. Still the pain bored through her, the tingles pricked.

Mia rolled her head when she heard Eddy’s voice beside her. Eddy, his wet suit gone, held her cold hand, but he never looked at her. “Dr. Reid? Wyatt?”

Another voice rumbled on Mia’s other side. She’d once known a doctor named Wyatt Reid. But that was a lifetime ago. In Africa when Eddy had needed immediate medical attention and her father had still been alive. That was all in the past, wasn’t it?

“Answered prayers, Mia.” Eddy squeezed her hand. “Dr. Reid has you now.”

But Wyatt Reid had never had her. She’d never had him. Not then. Not now. Mia strained, pulled by the warm touch on her forehead. She knew those ash-gray eyes. Knew that face. Knew that inflexible, gritty voice.

He repeated, “Mia, stay with me.”

But Wyatt had to know that he asked the impossible. Her eyes refused to focus and she finally gave in, succumbing to her body’s insistent need for a recharging moment. As she drifted away, she wondered if Wyatt Reid realized that her heart had never left him.

* * *

WYATT WOULD’VE SWORN Mia mumbled something about her heart always belonging to him. But the Mia Fiore he’d known would never put her heart up for the bargaining. He added delirium to her list of symptoms from severe decompression sickness.

Wyatt issued several more orders to the nurses and paused to look at Eddy Fuller, one of Mia’s longtime film crew guys and most likely to be listed as Mia’s emergency contact. “Stick around, Fuller. We’ll need the details about the dive.”

“It was only supposed to be an exploratory dive. To get the layout, make lighting adjustments before we filmed later this week.” Eddy thrust his fingers into his hair, the mass of thick curls cushioning his scalp from his tense grip. “Fishing line snagged her and her equipment.”

Mia was an experienced, well-trained diver, as was her entire crew. She’d never have attempted the dive without Eddy beside her. “Where were you?”

“She’d given me the all clear to ascend.” Guilt saturated the man’s voice, and his shoulders sagged.

“But she wasn’t with you,” Wyatt accused.

“She must have turned to photograph something.” Eddy crammed his hands into the pockets of his cargo pants. “It’ll be on the film.”

Wyatt nodded. Of course, Mia’s camera would’ve been rolling the whole time, capturing every all-consuming second. He’d known she’d give her life for the right footage for one of her documentaries despite her protests back in Africa. Her heart could never have been with Wyatt when it belonged completely to her work.

Eddy’s gaze twitched several times to the double doors that separated them from Mia. Wyatt added, “She’s going to be admitted for more than a night. She needs hyperbaric treatments and wound care.”

“We’re on deadline.” The fatigue settling into the dark bruises beneath Eddy’s eyes softened his protest.

“Adjust your schedule.” Wyatt stepped closer to Eddy. He didn’t have to stretch to look the tall, lanky man in the eyes. “She almost died this afternoon. The only deadline she has now is to heal.”

“So she isn’t going to...you know...” Eddy lost his voice and only managed to swallow several times before his gaze fixed on the closed double doors and his skin paled.

A fall from a rappeling accident in Africa had broken Eddy’s femur, snapped six ribs and readjusted several internal organs. The villagers had insisted only Wyatt could save such a damaged man. Mia had swooped into the medical camp and insisted death wasn’t a viable option before making Wyatt vow to save her friend’s life. She’d never flinched when Wyatt had requested her assistance. Only one thing had ever made Mia retreat.

Eddy would likely faint and make Wyatt catch him if Wyatt told the man he required his help now. Thankfully, they stood in Bay Water Medical Center, not an understaffed, undersupplied medical hut in Central Africa. Wyatt squeezed Eddy’s shoulder. “Mia isn’t going to die tonight.”

Relief shifted through Eddy and spread into his grin.

“However, I make no guarantees about her life once she’s discharged and on her own again.” On her own, Mia embraced adventure and dared life to challenge her more. Stopping to smell the roses would only perplex her. She’d wonder why anyone would stop for the ordinary when they could traipse through the Everglades to glimpse some rare orchid.

Eddy lifted his hands. “As her doctor, it’s appropriate that you give Mia her recovery orders.”

“I’m only her doctor while she’s in the ER, but I’ll make sure she has the best care upstairs.” Wyatt scanned Eddy’s face, searching for twinges of discomfort or latent distress. He’d been in the water with Mia. Decompression sickness wasn’t always instantaneous. “No numbness or pain?”