Marrying the Playboy Doctor

Feeling better, Kylie turned her attention back to the hypothermia protocol. She found several examples, and began printing them out to see what the similarities and differences were. She’d set up some meetings with the other ED physicians, too, and had received some good feedback.

Not one of them had even looked at her twice on a personal level—much less tried to hit on her the way Seth had.

Dr. Taylor. Get it through your head. He’s Dr. Taylor!

She buried her persistent thoughts of Dr. Taylor and concentrated on her work. There were really only very minor differences in the two hypothermia protocols she’d gotten from other sources. Maybe this wouldn’t take long to create at all.

A shrill scream split the air.

Ben? She sucked in a breath and sprang to her feet, running toward the living room. Through the picture window she saw a red bike crumpled beneath the back bumper of a car in the street outside Joey’s house.

Dear God. A red bike. Ben’s bike!

She tore outside, running straight to the scene of the accident. Her heart pounded in her chest and her vision went cloudy when she saw Ben’s body sprawled on the asphalt, half under the car.

“Owwwww,” he wailed.

“I’m sorry, lady, I didn’t see him,” the male driver of the car said, looking pale. “I called 911. They’re sending an ambulance.”

“Thanks. Shh, Ben. It’s all right, I’m here.” Kylie blinked, fighting to keep from losing control—especially when she saw the deep gash over Ben’s left eye. Blood was everywhere, and she had to remind herself that head wounds always bled like crazy. Ben was also holding his left arm protectively across his chest. “I need some towels to put pressure on his head wound,” she said to the group of onlookers who’d gathered around. She barely noticed when someone dashed off to the house, her attention focused on her son. “Don’t move, honey. I need a minute to examine you.”

She reached under the car, feeling his extremities. “Does your neck hurt? Or your back?” she asked.

“N-no. Just my—head and—my arm,” Ben said between hiccupping sobs.

He was talking, and making sense, which went a long way to easing her panic. After ruling out a neck or back injury, she eased Ben from beneath the car, wincing at the copious amount of blood coating his face and soaking his shirt.

Missy Clairmont, Joey’s mother, returned with an armload of towels, babbling about how she was so sorry, she hadn’t realized the boys had taken their bikes out into the road, and she’d only run inside for a minute to use the bathroom. Kylie didn’t respond except to nod at her, using one towel to hold pressure over Ben’s eye and the other to mop up the worst of the blood.

Her hands were shaking.

In the distance she heard sirens, and knew help was on the way. She crushed Ben close, knowing she needed to check his pupils for signs of concussion but also needed to stem the bleeding from the cut over his eye, so he didn’t lose too much blood. Rattled, she couldn’t decide which threat was worse.

When the paramedics arrived, she was relieved they took control of the medical situation, leaving her to simply hold Ben in a comforting embrace. In mere minutes they had Ben bundled up and ready for transport.

No one argued when she climbed into the ambulance with him.

“His pupils are reactive, but the left one is larger than the right,” Randal, one of the older paramedics, said. “And I think he has a radial fracture in his left arm.”

A concussion and a fracture didn’t seem too bad, but Kylie knew that it was possible Ben’s head injury could be worse than it looked. The only way to measure if he was bleeding into his brain was through a CT scan.

She clung to Ben’s hand as they wound through the streets toward Cedar Bluff Hospital. She wondered if Seth was the physician on duty today.

She didn’t know very many of the Cedar Bluff ED physicians yet, but she did know Seth. And she didn’t want a stranger caring for her son.

Seth glanced at his pager to get the details of the most recent trauma call. Six-year-old boy hit by a car. VSS. ETA two minutes.

“Victoria, put this kid in the trauma room, okay?” he called to the nurse in charge.

She raised a brow. “His vitals are stable.”

“I don’t care. I want him in the trauma room.” Seth would rather overreact than underestimate how sick a patient might be. Any child hit by a car had the potential to go bad in a hurry.

Seconds later Leila Ross, one of the general surgeons who’d cross-trained as a trauma surgeon, walked in. “Hear you have a peds patient on the way?”

“We do.” Seth glanced at Leila, smiling at the petite surgeon who was lucky enough to be carrying the trauma pager for the day. “His vitals are stable, though.”

“Good.” Leila headed over to the sink to wash her hands and he watched for a moment, admiring her silky straight black hair, pulled back into a long braid. Leila was beautiful in an ethereal way, but as much as he’d enjoyed her company on the few dates they’d had, there hadn’t really been a spark of attraction between them. Since they shared a mutual respect of each other’s abilities, though, they’d decided they were better off remaining friends.

Besides, he’d often sensed Leila’s dark troubled gaze held secrets she wasn’t willing to share.

The doors to the trauma bay burst open and their newest arrival was wheeled in. It took him only two seconds to recognize Kylie, although she wasn’t in her usual paramedic uniform. She wore a soft butter-yellow sweater smeared with blood and a pair of figure-hugging jeans.

“Six-year-old hit by a car while riding his bike. He has a laceration over his left eye and a minor concussion. His pupils are unequal but react to light.” A tall male paramedic rattled off the detailed information. “He also has a possible fracture in his left arm.”

Seth stepped forward to lift the blood-soaked towels to see the laceration, and winced when he saw the gap was large enough that he could see all the way into the child’s orbital eye socket. “Back or neck pain?”

“Ben denies back or neck pain,” Kylie said.

The paramedic glanced at her, and then added, “Ben has some minor scrapes on his left leg, but no other obvious signs of injury. The vehicle was backing up, so it wasn’t going very fast.”

He noticed the way Kylie clung to the boy’s hand. “We’ll need to get a stat CT of his head, and X-rays of his extremities, but I want to stitch up that head wound first.”

Kylie paled at his words, but didn’t let go as she met Seth’s gaze. “I’m staying.”

“Are you his mother?” he asked.

When she nodded, he didn’t show his surprise, but took her arm to draw her away from the bedside. She reluctantly let go of Ben’s hand.

“Is Ben’s father on his way, too?” he asked, thinking that Kylie could use some support.

“No. His father left a long time ago.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, with no sign of bitterness.

“Is there someone else I can call for you?” he persisted. “A friend? Anyone to be here so you don’t have to go through this alone?”

“No, there isn’t anyone to call. We just moved here a few weeks ago.” She was barely paying attention to him, her gaze going back to her son. “I’m fine,” she insisted, tugging to free herself from his grip. “But I’d really like to be there while you stitch him up.”

Sometimes parents didn’t do well when they stayed to watch, but knowing Kylie’s paramedic background he quickly relented. “All right,” he agreed, releasing her arm.

Kylie didn’t hesitate, but went straight back to Ben’s bedside, taking his hand and leaning down to press a soft kiss on her son’s forehead.

Seth knew Kylie was distraught. She hadn’t caught her slip-up, but he had.

She didn’t have a man in her life.

But she did have a son.

Seth let out a sigh. He loved women, and loved having fun, but a family—especially a single mother with a young son—wasn’t a part of his future.