The Doctor's Longed-For Family

The Doctor's Longed-For Family
Joanna Neil

Two strong arms reached for her and steadied her, and Abby looked up distractedly, to find herself staring into Matt’s laughing blue eyes.

‘I know we said that we were going to be working closely together,’ he murmured huskily, keeping hold of her, his hands coming to rest at the base of her spine, ‘but I hadn’t expected it to be quite such a riveting experience.’ He ran his glance over her. ‘Not that I’m complaining, of course. This has to be one of the bonuses of the job.’

‘Yes, well…um…I think I can manage now, thank you. I…um…need to go and find my patient. He should be arriving any minute now.’ Her heart was pounding, and she couldn’t think straight with his arms wrapped around her that way.

Dear Reader (#ulink_77502642-1161-5a31-b997-954b2f96f0e9)

What a great start to the New Year! Mills & Boon is celebrating its centenary—a hundred years of exciting romance and the joy of compelling love stories to warm our hearts. As a writer and an avid reader of romantic fiction, I’m delighted to be part of, and to be able to share with you, this momentous occasion in Mills and Boon’s history.

I think you’ll agree with me that the world has changed a great deal in those fabulous years. We have the wonder of technology to make our lives easier and help us to communicate better with one another. The world has been opened up for us through the media of the internet and television. Every day people from across the continents appear on our television screens, and at the touch of a button we can send missives out into cyberspace.

There is a downside to all this, though. What if you later regret what you’ve sent, or, heaven forbid, you meet up with the object of your scorn?

Television and technology both play a part in bringing together Abby and Matt in my latest book, THE DOCTOR’S LONGED-FOR FAMILY.

Can you imagine the excitement of a TV celebrity coming to a hospital near you? No? Neither can Abby Byford, and she certainly doesn’t take kindly to the idea of having a camera crew following her around as she works. As things turn out, though, Matt Calder proves to be far more persistent than she might have imagined.

I’ve been able to bring Abby and Matt’s story to you by being a contributor to this milestone in Mills & Boon’s history.

My very best wishes to you all

Joanna

The Doctor’s Longed-For Family

Joanna Neil

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

When JOANNA NEIL discovered Mills & Boon®, her life-long addiction to reading crystallised into an exciting new career writing Medical™ Romance. Her characters are probably the outcome of her varied lifestyle, which includes working as a clerk, typist, nurse and infant teacher. She enjoys dressmaking and cooking at her Leicestershire home. Her family includes a husband, son and daughter, an exuberant yellow Labrador and two slightly crazed cockatiels. She currently works with a team of tutors at her local education centre, to provide creative writing workshops for people interested in exploring their own writing ambitions.

Contents

COVER (#uca66ca11-5b71-5c31-a435-2c456fd37107)

Dear Reader (#ufd76e679-6de6-58a8-a78b-7385689a71e1)

TITLE PAGE (#u1893c150-8b6e-56e2-ac8e-bfb1d813737f)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#u5354e50c-e528-5e48-a12a-f6f3870b24fe)

CHAPTER ONE (#u5a272157-8c2e-5fa7-84e2-fd7ed79baa4b)

CHAPTER TWO (#u08703feb-55bb-5817-a043-8345359cb110)

CHAPTER THREE (#u331a9196-4f34-5ef5-9bf6-dee8a64994d3)

CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

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)

EXTRACT (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_dcc11e71-3dbf-579b-8718-99ddc3b6b00d)

‘WELCOME to Matt Calder’s website. You might like to take a look at the guest book area while you’re here. There’s a message from a Dr Abby Byford, who wants to know why we think it necessary to take the TV cameras along with the ambulance crew when they go out on call.’

Abby stared at the computer screen, her green eyes widening, her mouth opening in shock. She had imagined that her brief email would have been hidden away somewhere, for his eyes only, or virtually out of sight, or at the very least that it would be lost in an electronic void. She hadn’t expected him to reply, or even to use it on his website, yet here was her name, blazoned across the Internet for all to see. He was actually singling her out for attention. Why would he want to do that?

‘Is this what passes for entertainment these days? she asks. Why on earth would anyone want to sit and watch injured people having their wounds assessed and then follow them as they go through the process of treatment?’

Abby had been taking bites out of her breakfast toast while she was on the move this morning, but now she let it slide down onto her plate while she stared transfixed at the monitor. Her long, honey-gold hair tumbled down around her face in a wild mass of curls and she swiftly pushed it back out of the way.

‘I’m sure many of you will have a view on this, and I’d be glad to see your comments on the website. My own feeling is that we all have a choice in the matter. It’s called the channel change button on the remote control, or, if you have the energy, there’s always the off switch on the television set.’

Her jaw dropped. That was a total put-down, wasn’t it, and what had she done to deserve that kind of treatment? This man, Calder, was impossible. OK, so his television programme had disturbed her, enough to prompt her to send a carefully worded message his way. After all, he had invited comments at the end of the programme, but surely she didn’t merit that kind of sarcasm? Hers had been a perfectly legitimate query, but his reply was a pure dig at her expense in front of the thousands who accessed his site.

Her appetite had suddenly disappeared, but it was replaced by a growing rumble of annoyance. She didn’t have time for any of this. She was supposed to be getting ready for work, and all she had meant to do was to swiftly check her emails in case any problems had cropped up overnight. Only her friend’s message had included a link to the website. ‘You have to check this out,’ she had written. ‘You seem to have stirred something up.’

Now Abby was rapidly regretting the impulse that had led her to click on the link. Merely thinking about the arrogance of the man brought a red haze to sizzle in front of her eyes. Why had she even bothered to switch on the television the other night? If she had left well alone, she might never have caught sight of his TV show, but she had left it on in the background as she’d dealt with her emails that evening. As she was already online it had been all too easy to let her emotions get away from her and write in to the address given.

They had all been talking about it in A and E, where she worked. ‘He has such a wry sense of humour,’ Helen, her specialist registrar, had said, ‘and when he’s on TV he’s absolutely brilliant as a presenter. Everybody’s watching his show, Emergency Call. It’s on once a week, in the evening, and he has a weekly slot that deals with different medical topics. It tends to throw up a controversy once in a while. He’s interviewed on radio and TV talk shows from time to time, and he writes occasionally, too.’

At least on radio, Abby thought, the listening public wouldn’t have been drawn to watch the suffering of the poor young woman who had slipped and fallen down the stairs last night. She was heavily pregnant, and Abby had felt her pain along with her as she had been filmed being carefully transferred into the ambulance.

‘It looks as though Megan is going into labour,’ Matt Calder had said softly to the camera. ‘We’ll be by her side through every stage, from here to the delivery room.’

The baby, though, hadn’t wanted to wait that long, and soon the presenter had said, ‘I don’t think we’re going to make it to the hospital before this infant is born.’

Remembering, Abby felt her hackles begin to rise all over again. Why was everyone so obsessed with fly-on-the-wall coverage these days?

Her fingers were already stabbing at the keyboard, and she banged out another message to Matt Calder.

‘I stand by what I said before,’ she wrote. ‘Isn’t your programme taking things a stretch too far? Do we really need to pry into every aspect of people’s lives, even stooping so low as to let cameras intrude on the special, intensely personal moment when a woman gives birth? It’s bad enough that the mother’s privacy is violated, but doesn’t it ever occur to anyone that the infant concerned is being exploited?’