Playboy Doctor to Doting Dad

And she would never have been ready.

‘You’ve cut your hair,’ Kieran commented, feeling a pang of loss.

‘Too hard to manage with small children and their sticky fingers.’ She flashed him a half-smile.

She had beautiful hair. Even now. Cut in a soft style that tucked around her face Kieran wanted to reach out and touch the silky strands. He resisted with difficulty. Touching her would not help the situation.

Abigail’s nervous with me. She was trying to hide it but her give-away facial expressions told the truth. Pique rippled through him. He wasn’t used to being treated in such a deliberately offhand fashion. Of course she’d be apprehensive after shocking him about Seamus, but he’d just spent nearly two days travelling around the globe so he didn’t appreciate being treated like something dragged up from the bottom of a deep pond. He was the one who had something to be upset about. And hadn’t he been charming and friendly?

‘I apologise for the brevity of my email, but there seemed to be hundreds of things to be organised before I left home.’ He risked another smile. His smiles usually won him anything he wanted.

Abigail leaned closer, a whiff of some exotic flower tantalising him. She was no doubt only now recognising that she hadn’t been very welcoming. How would she make up for that? A light kiss?

She said, ‘Baggage claim’s outside.’

Great. Getting warmer. His heart banged against his ribs. He’d have to polish his charm if the next two months were to be bearable. ‘Right, let’s grab my gear and get out of here.’

As he turned to follow her, the old lady who had sat next to him on the plane waved and called softly, ‘You won’t be needing me next trip.’ Her head tilted at Abigail.

Oh, yes, he would. He might want to win a warm smile from the woman who’d shanghaied his brain but he couldn’t imagine taking a long-haul flight with her and Olivia. And Seamus, a little voice piped up in the back of his head. He winked at the old lady. ‘See you in February.’

Then he strode outside to the baggage claim area. As he did so he thought about the unexpected change in the warm, vibrant woman standing next to him. He’d first met her at his sister’s marriage to David. Abigail seemed quieter, more uptight than he recalled. Guess being a mother did that.

He totted up other changes he’d begun noticing. Abigail didn’t bounce on her toes any more. Her quick grin seemed to have flicked off permanently. Shadows lined the skin beneath her eyes. Life since they’d spent that wonderful night together had been harder on her than him.

A screech of tyres snapped through the air, followed by a thump. A woman screamed.

Another woman cried out, ‘Quick. Someone, help.’

Kieran met Abigail’s startled glance. ‘That our cue?’

She nodded, ‘I’d say so.’

‘I’m a doctor.’ Kieran squeezed past gaping faces and prodding elbows.

Abigail followed. ‘Let me through. I’m a nurse.’

‘He stepped right in front of me.’ A male voice sounded defensive. ‘I never had a chance to avoid him.’

Abigail dropped to her knees beside a prostrate man held down at his chest by the front wheel of a four-wheeled motorbike towing the baggage trailers.

Looking around, Kieran said, ‘Someone, call an ambulance.’

‘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.’