Playboy Doctor to Doting Dad

‘I’m onto it,’ a man answered.

Urgency underlined Abigail’s words. ‘We need that bike lifted away.’

Kieran searched the closest faces, found the driver of the bike, an orange safety jacket and a white face the give-away. ‘How many of us will it take to move this bike?’

‘Six, I reckon. I’ll unhook the luggage trailers.’ The man’s voice trembled as he stared down at the accident victim. ‘Is he going to be all right?’

Kieran gripped the driver’s shoulder. ‘We can’t say until we’ve had a proper look at him.’

‘He kind of tripped. I never saw him coming.’

Tripped? Stepped out? Fainted? Heart attack? Kieran tossed up scenarios. The unconscious man appeared to be in his late forties, maybe early fifties, so cardiac malfunction couldn’t be ruled out.

Turning to the pressing crowd, he spoke loudly and clearly. ‘Step back, everyone. Give us some space, please.’ He searched for strong men to help lift the quad bike away.

‘Abigail, you’ll have to move aside for a moment.’ He didn’t want her getting hurt if the lift went wrong and the bike toppled over.

She nodded. When their patient had been freed, she leaned close to him. ‘You weren’t meant to start work today.’

‘If you mean, am I alert enough after thirty-six hours’ flying? No, I’m probably not up to a full-scale emergency. But I think we can manage this between us.’ At least the patient might be happier to have him around than she appeared to be.

A shadow crossed her eyes, darkening them to the colour of well-cooked toast. ‘I only meant it’s not much of a welcome to Nelson.’

He squeezed her hand, suddenly in need of contact with her. Any contact. He wanted to establish a connection that would get him over the hurdles of the coming weeks. ‘Let’s look at our man.’

They knelt, one each side of their patient, and Abigail lifted the man’s wrist as he opened his eyes slowly, blinking in the bright daylight.

‘What happened?’ he croaked.

‘You’ve been knocked down by a quad bike,’ Kieran explained. ‘I’m Dr Flynn, and this is Abby Brown, a nurse. Can you tell me your name and address, please?’

As he answered, Abigail counted his pulse rate.

‘Paul Stokes, three Caper Drive, Richmond.’

Nothing wrong with the man’s coherence. Kieran gently felt Paul’s chest. ‘I’m checking your ribs for fractures.’

He didn’t add that if any ribs had been staved in a lung might be punctured. Pneumothorax was a distinct, and very serious, possibility.

His patient grunted through white lips, beads of perspiration covered his forehead. ‘It hurts like hell. When I breathe in.’

Around them people jostled for a look at the unfortunate man while others quickly collected their bags and disappeared.

Abby placed Paul’s wrist down at his side. ‘Pulse is elevated. The paramedics can run an ECG when they arrive.’

Kieran nodded, and asked their patient, ‘Do you remember feeling any chest pain before you were knocked down?’

Paul’s voice was weakening. ‘I felt odd. Like I couldn’t quite get enough air into my lungs.’ The words dragged out around his pain, his red face now grey.

‘Did you notice the bike before it ran into you?’ Kieran was aware of Abigail carefully checking their patient’s legs for any injuries inflicted when the bike had rammed him.

‘No. Just my weird breathing.’

Abigail muttered, ‘There’s swelling along the thigh, but no blood seepage. I’d like to remove these jeans and have a closer look at his right leg.’

‘It’ll have to wait,’ Kieran replied. ‘Okay, Paul, try to relax.’ He asked Abigail quietly, ‘Just how far away is the nearest hospital?’

A slow smile curved her lips and burned him with its warmth. At last, the Abigail he’d been looking for. ‘Nearest hospital? The only hospital. You’re not in Dublin now.’ Her smile widened, taking away any sting he might’ve found in her words. ‘The ambulance base is ten minutes from here if they get a clear run.’

Paul groaned, flapped his hands over his chest. ‘Worse,’ he gasped. His eyes closed, and his head rolled to the side.

Immediately Abigail located his neck pulse, shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

Cardiac arrest. Just what they needed. Kieran fisted his hand and gave a hard thump to Paul’s chest but the heart didn’t restart. ‘Compressions. Quick, or we’ll lose him.’

Abigail tilted the man’s head back to open his airway while Kieran placed his interlocked hands over Paul’s heart. As he pressed down and began counting the compressions, his admiration for Abigail’s efficiency crept through his mind. From the moment they’d first heard the dreadful thud of Paul taking a slam she’d been one step ahead of him. Now she held the man’s head, no doubt ready to take over the compressions if required.

Kieran continued the compressions. ‘Thirty.’ At his nod Abby checked Paul’s carotid pulse, shook her head. Kieran pressed down again. Thirty compressions. No pulse. Somewhere beyond the terminal a siren screamed. Please let it be the ambulance.

Abby placed her forefinger on the carotid artery. ‘Come on, Paul, breathe for us.’

Kieran pressed down, heard Abby gasp, ‘I think we have a pulse. Her mouth curved into a tender smile as she nodded. ‘Yes, definitely.’

Kieran sagged in relief. ‘Thank goodness for that.’ He glanced up as the paramedics arrived. They would take over now. He grinned at Abigail. ‘We make a great team.’

Her smile wavered. ‘We do.’ She placed a hand on his arm and leaned close. Then suddenly jerked backwards.

Had she been about to kiss him? Disappointment surged through his tired body. If only she had. He squashed the urge to haul her into his arms and kiss her. Properly. He had not come here to rekindle their fling. That had been a one-night, grief-blanking event. It had been absolutely magical, but never to be repeated. Sadness swamped him. Never? Never.

A sigh rippled across his bottom lip. ‘At least we know we work well together.’

‘We know more than that.’ Then she slam-dunked him. ‘We also made a beautiful little boy together.’

‘So that’s our new boss.’ Sally stood behind the nurses’ station in the emergency department, ogling Kieran as he chatted to two nurses. Two female nurses, who were having trouble keeping their jaws off the floor.

‘Yep, that’s him.’ Abby sighed wistfully. He already looked as though he belonged there. Five minutes and he had the staff eating out of his hand.

Kieran had come in from the airport in the ambulance with Paul Stokes. It hadn’t been necessary but he’d insisted, saying he’d feel happier about the situation. The female paramedics had acquiesced to his charm within seconds. Abby had screwed up the parking ticket she’d found under her windscreen wiper and followed the ambulance, her car filled with Kieran’s luggage. If she hadn’t known better she’d have thought he’d come for a year. But she did know better. Even if he finally accepted his son, Kieran wouldn’t be staying. His career always came first. Why was that? Did he continuously have to prove himself, like someone else she’d known?

‘Very tasty.’ Sally almost drooled.

‘You think so?’ Abby glanced in the same direction as her friend and felt a hitch in her throat as Kieran bent over the cardiac monitoring equipment attached to his patient, stretching his trousers across a very tidy backside. But totally agreeing with her closest friend didn’t mean she had to admit it out loud.

Happily married, Sally was in the business of finding Abby a husband, so far without success. Mainly because Abby had no interest in settling down with anyone ever again. She’d tried it once and had been scorched so badly she no longer trusted her own judgment.

‘Whenever you speak in that so-who-gives-a-damn voice I know you’re covering your real thoughts. Come on, what harm can it do to admit the guy’s gorgeous?’ A smug look settled over Sally’s face. ‘He’s single, right?’

‘Don’t go there. I am not the slightest bit tempted. Believe me on this one.’ Abby huffed out a breath and turned away from the intriguing sight. She had to stop Sally in her tracks. It didn’t help that her friend didn’t know who Seamus’s father was. Abby had never divulged that information, and Sally had quickly learned not to mention it. ‘I am definitely not interested.’