Assignment: Single Father. Caroline Anderson
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had been left with terrible, crippling injuries, not all of them physical.
Then she thought of working as a practice nurse, a quiet, orderly existence about as far removed from her work in A and E as it was possible to get, and dismissed her hesitation. Besides, she needed somewhere to live—fast.
‘That would be fine, Dr Giraud. Shall I see you there at eleven o’clock?’
‘That would be wonderful,’ he said, and she thought she could hear relief in his voice. ‘I look forward to seeing you again, Miss Williams.’
The line cut with a little click, and she replaced the receiver thoughtfully. Well, he seemed keen enough to see her again, and he’d come over as a very decent sort of person. She could do worse than look after him and his children and do a few inoculations.
She left the agency’s little office tucked away behind Reception, and went through to tell Jackie about her imminent second interview and quiz her friend a little more about the man with the most fascinating voice she’d heard in years.
She didn’t get a chance. There was someone else in there, a man she recognised—a man with a sexy, lopsided grin and the most arresting blue eyes she’d ever seen. He looked up at her and her heart lurched and then settled again. Good grief! Twice in ten minutes. She was going to develop chronic arrhythmia at this rate.
His smile widened in recognition. ‘Well, if it isn’t the bodacious Sister Williams,’ he said, and Fran suppressed a smile.
‘Well, if it isn’t the accident-prone Mr Nicholson. It’s good to see you alive.’
‘Do you two know each other?’ Jackie chipped in, clearly agog, and he chuckled.
‘Let’s just say we met over a red-hot needle a little while ago.’
‘Yes. How is the chest?’ Fran asked him, and he gave a short, humourless laugh.
‘Oh, the chest is fine—it’s healed beautifully. Unfortunately, though, the rest of me is lagging behind a little, hence my visit here. I need a nurse.’
Jackie smiled at her encouragingly, and Fran sat down, rapidly getting a sinking feeling that her friend wanted her to take this assignment instead of the one with Dr Giraud.
Not a chance. Whatever her reservations about working for the GP, they paled into insignificance compared to this. This man, with his panther grace and lazy, sexy eyes, was trouble, with a capital T, and she had no intention of getting involved.
Grin or no grin.
‘I’ve got an interview at eleven with Giraud,’ she said quietly but firmly.
Jackie waved her hand. ‘You’ve got another one now,’ she said, and Fran gave an inward sigh and looked at Josh more closely. The situation didn’t improve with inspection.
He had fading bruises round his eyes, a cast on his arm and an external fixator on his leg. She asked him a few questions and didn’t like the answers.
He’d had an accident twelve days before; that she’d known because of all the news coverage. What she hadn’t known, and what he now told her, was the extent of his injuries, and it made an impressive list.
He’d had a blood clot removed from his brain, his liver and spleen had been damaged, his pelvis was cracked, his right wrist was broken, his right femur was pinned and the fixator on his lower right leg was holding together a collection of matchwood, from what she could gather.
Why he felt he was well enough to go home, she couldn’t begin to imagine, but there was no way she was going with him, however beguiling the smile or challenging the eyes. It was altogether too close to her recent work in A and E—she could imagine the carnage at the site of the RTA, the flashing lights, the controlled pandemonium in Resus—no way. Much too close to home.
When the accident had happened, right in the middle of her crisis at work, it had been all the more shocking to see it on the news because she’d only just treated him. He’d fallen over a cat and landed on a binbag full of rubbish, cutting his chest. She’d teased him, and then a few days later he’d nearly died.
She shot Jackie a slightly desperate smile. ‘Could we have a word?’
‘Sure. Just a moment, Mr Nicholson. We’ll soon have you sorted out.’
‘Just so long as you don’t leave me at the mercy of my mother,’ he said with a thread of desperate laughter in his voice, and Jackie smiled and made soothing promising noises that Fran hoped didn’t include her.
They went into the office and Jackie leant back against the door and rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, he is so gorgeous!’ she said under her breath. ‘I can’t believe you know him. You are going to take this job, aren’t you? You’re not going to be silly?’
Fran shook her head. ‘No. I’m going to see Dr Giraud at eleven and I’m probably going to take his job—if he offers it to me. And I don’t know Josh, I’ve only met him once.’
‘Well, surely you know who he is? Good grief, he’s famous.’
‘Yes, they talked about him at work. I’d never heard of him,’ Fran confessed. ‘I gather he’s got a bit of money.’
‘A bit? I think the expression is “fabulously wealthy”,’ Jackie said with a chuckle. ‘Anyway, what about the job? He needs looking after. It was a high-speed crash on the A12—something about a horse on the road. It was one of those really dark nights. Judging by the sound of it, he was very lucky to escape with his life. I’d forgotten all about it. Fran, it’s the chance of a lifetime. You have to take the job!’
For a brief moment she hesitated, tempted by the glamour, the wealth—and that grin. Then she thought of Xavier Giraud, the man with the incredible voice and the tragic children, and she shook her head slowly.
‘No. I don’t think so, Jackie. It would just bring back too many memories. I’ve seen too many young men like him die. I don’t need it.’
‘He’s not going to die.’
‘Please, I can’t. Anyway, I’ve said I’ll see Dr Giraud. I can’t go back on that. I’m sure you’ll find a whole queue of young women happy to take Josh Nicholson on, and probably loads of older ones as well, come to that. And if all else fails, there’s always his mother, by the sound of it.’
Jackie laughed softly. ‘Never mind the older ones and his mother, I might have to come out from behind the desk and look after him myself—if I hadn’t just met David, I might well be tempted.’ She squeezed Fran’s shoulder and smiled forgivingly.
‘You go and see your Dr Giraud. He’s lovely, too, in fact. Not as rich, and there are the kids, of course, but he’s a super guy. He’s got the nicest eyes, and all the patients are in love with him.’
‘Even the men?’ Fran said drily, then laughed. ‘Don’t answer that. You go and sort out Mr Nicholson, and I’ll go round to the surgery now. I’ll be a few minutes early, but I want to be sure of finding a parking place. I’ll let you know how I get on.’
She went through the back to the agency’s tiny car park and then debated walking along to the surgery for all of three seconds before she slid behind the wheel of her little car and eased out into the road. She’d had precious little sleep last night, what with one thing and another, and the last thing she felt like doing was racing along the quay to the surgery and arriving windswept and flustered for her interview. She looked bad enough already!
It was further by car because of the one-way system, but the traffic was quiet, as it usually was on a weekday morning in sleepy Woodbridge, and she drove slowly down through the winding streets of the little town to the surgery.
It was housed in a purpose-built complex near the quay, modern and well equipped, and she arrived with minutes to spare. Still, better early than late.
The surgery car park was almost full and for a couple of seconds she regretted her impulse