The Children's Doctor's Special Proposal

‘I know that.’ Katrina rolled her eyes. ‘But not all men are potential partners, either. I’m happy to keep men as friends and colleagues.’

‘Hmm. When you find the right one, you’ll change your mind.’

Katrina ruffled her cousin’s hair. ‘I know you’ve found Mr Right, but it doesn’t happen for everyone. Anyway, I like my life as it is. I love my job, I have good friends, and I have the best family in the world. Not to mention the fact I’m going to be an auntie and godmother to the most gorgeous little girl in about four months’ time.’ Madison’s amniocentesis results had come through just before Katrina had left for Italy; to everyone’s huge relief, all was well. ‘I don’t need anyone, Maddie. I’m happy as I am.’

‘If you say so,’ Madison said.

‘I do.’ And the fact that she couldn’t get Rhys Morgan’s incredibly blue eyes out of her head, the fact that they reminded her of the colour of the sea on the Amalfi coast—well, that was just post-holiday silliness, Katrina told herself sternly. ‘I’ll see you later.’

She had enough time to tell Sadie a story about the princess and the merman meeting in the magic grotto, and then it was time to face Rhys again.

‘I see you admitted a couple of patients from the assessment clinic this morning,’ Rhys said.

He’d been in a different clinic that morning—so when had he had time to check what she’d been doing? Or maybe he’d just caught sight of the ward’s whiteboard where they listed the patients and their named nurses and he wanted a quick rundown on what she’d done before they did the ward round. Fair enough. She didn’t have any doubts about her clinical judgement.

‘There’s Jennie Myerson—the GP sent her in because her face was swollen, her blood pressure and temperature were up, she said her joints hurt, and there was blood in her urine,’ she explained. ‘She’s not on medication for anything, so it’s not an allergic reaction, but apparently she did have a sore throat a couple of weeks ago. So I wonder if it’s a staph infection causing interstitial nephritis.’

‘You’ve given her something for the blood pressure and paracetamol to deal with the pain and get her temperature down,’ he said, reading swiftly through the notes.

‘I also took bloods and I asked if her urine output could be measured. Are the results back from the lab yet?’

‘Not according to these notes.’

‘Then I’ll chase them after the ward round. But if I’m right and her ESR and urea are up, I’d like to do a renal ultrasound.’

‘I think you’re going to be right,’ he said, surprising her. ‘Her urine output’s way below what it should be. Did you ask if she’s allergic to penicillin?’

‘Yes, and there’s no family history, so they don’t think so.’

‘Good. You talk to the lab while I sort the ultrasound on her kidney. If the blood results are what you think they’ll be, we’ll start her on penicillin. This sort of condition can make a little one feel really rough.’

He went through the other patients on their list equally thoroughly, taking account of what Katrina said and also of the observations recorded by the nurses. Definitely a team player, Katrina thought. Someone who listened to others. Which was a good thing, as far as the ward was concerned.

So why was there still that wall between them?

Because, although Rhys was great to work with—intuitive, quick to sum up what was going on, understanding how their patients felt and calming the parents’ worries as they went from bed to bed—she was aware of a definite barrier between them. He barely even made eye contact with her.

Had it not been for Lynne’s comment earlier, she would’ve thought maybe it was just her. Although he hadn’t seemed to have a problem with her clinical judgement, he’d made it clear earlier that he thought she was too emotionally involved with their patients.

And there had been that weird prickle of awareness when he’d shaken her hand, which she was pretty sure he’d felt, too. Maybe this distance was his way of telling her that he had no intention of acting on it.

Well, that was fine by her. Because she didn’t want to act on it, either. She’d learned her lesson well: getting involved with a colleague was the quickest way to heartache. Never, ever again.

Later that afternoon, Rhys was walking past the ward’s playroom to his office when he heard laughter. Loud laughter. As if the children in the playroom were watching some kind of show, rather than being the general hum of noise of little ones playing independently. He couldn’t remember anyone talking about a visitor coming to entertain the children, and he knew there wasn’t a television in the playroom. So what was going on? Curious, he looked through the doorway.

And there at the far end of the room was Katrina. Sitting on a beanbag, with her feet tucked under her, surrounded by the more mobile children from the ward and what looked like most of the children from the waiting room. At first he thought she was reading them a story—and then he realised that she wasn’t holding a book. The story she was telling was straight out of her head, illustrated by a couple of glove puppets. She was getting the children involved, too—asking them questions so they made suggestions to shape the story, and persuading them all to join in with a simple song or a chorus.

He glanced at his watch. She should have been off duty half an hour ago. Yet here she was, entertaining the children.

This went beyond dedication.

Katrina Gregory clearly loved her job.

And the children clearly loved her all the way back. He’d noticed on the ward rounds how the newer parents turned straight to her for comfort, how the older ones greeted her as a friend. How the children brightened when they saw her and even the sickest ones could summon up a smile for Dr Katrina. Her warmth suffused everyone.

Even himself.

And, lord, he was tempted. Katrina was gorgeous. And it wasn’t just her personality: her midnight-blue eyes were stunning and her mouth was lush enough to make any man sit up and beg. When she’d shaken hands with him that morning, he’d been incredibly aware of her—of the softness of her skin, the light floral scent she wore, the quiet yet clear voice.

Irresistible.

He’d wanted her immediately.

And had held himself back, because it was highly unlikely a woman that attractive would still be single. Even though she didn’t wear a ring at work—he’d actually caught himself checking, during the ward round—she probably kept it on a chain round her neck, tucked inside her shirt for safety and staying close to her heart. And even if he’d got it wrong and Katrina was free, he was hardly in a position to offer her anything. His last girlfriend had told him he was so distant he might as well have been in Australia when they’d gone out together—and he knew she’d had a point. He was lousy at relationships, so it was best to stick to what he was good at. Work.

Katrina Gregory was his colleague—full stop and end of story.

Quietly, Rhys left the doorway and headed for his office.

CHAPTER TWO

THE following morning, Katrina was on her way out of Sadie’s cubicle when she saw Rhys in the corridor. ‘Morning,’ she said brightly, hoping that he wasn’t going to give her another lecture about being too close to her patients but quite ready to battle her corner if she had to.

‘Morning.’ He gave her one of the slow, sweet smiles he’d given Lynne in the kitchen the previous day—the smile that had made Katrina’s knees go ever so slightly weak—and all her annoyance melted away. ‘I’m with you in the children’s assessment clinic this morning.’

‘I thought I was on with Tim,’ she said. Their first-year foundation doctor was working mainly with her in the assessment clinic and she was enjoying his enthusiasm and freshness.

‘He called in sick this morning—he’s caught the tummy bug that’s going round. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,’ he said lightly.

‘I think I can manage,’ she said, equally lightly. Funny how the look in his eyes was making her heart beat that little bit faster. She really needed to get a grip. ‘Not that I’m trying to patronise you, but have you worked in the assessment clinic here before? I mean, you know how the system works?’

‘It’ll be my first time,’ Rhys said, ‘but I gather our patients are referred by their GPs or by the emergency department staff.’

She nodded. ‘We have a couple of paediatric nurses who do the usual checks when the children are brought in—height, weight, temperature, pulse, breathing rate, urine sample—and take a medical history, then we see the children in the order in which they arrive. Unless there’s an emergency, of course,’ she added, ‘but we do warn parents that emergencies take priority.’

‘Sounds like the same set-up we had back at the Cardiff Memorial Hospital,’ he said. ‘That’s fine by me. Do you want a coffee before we start?’

She glanced at her watch. ‘We haven’t really got time—not unless we make it with half-cold water. Who’s doing ward rounds this morning, if you’re not?’

‘Will.’

Will was the senior consultant: a tall, jolly man who had a fund of terrible jokes and even more terrible ties that their patients all loved. She grinned. ‘The poor nurses—not to mention the patients—will need sunglasses! At least your taste in ties is bearable.’

‘I wouldn’t bet on that.’ His eyes glittered with mischief. ‘This is my third week here. I think it’s time to start a competition with Will in neckwear.’

She groaned. ‘Don’t tell me your wife and kids find them for you, too.’

‘Not married. No kids. No intention of having either.’