Tempted by the Hot Highland Doc

January

‘IT’S DYNAMITE! WHY didn’t you tell me you two were an item?’

‘What?’ Kristie rubbed her eyes.

‘The film. The backdrop of snow. The two of you silhouetted outside the hospital, kissing. The public will die for this. I tell you, once this goes out, you’ll have any job that you want. What do you want? A talk show? More reporting? How about something fun, like a game show?’

For the briefest of seconds she felt a surge of excitement. Louie was telling her she could have her pick of jobs. How long had she waited to hear those words?

But her stomach gave a flip and she tried to mentally replay what he’d said.

Her voice cut across his as he kept talking. She could almost feel the blood drain from her body. ‘What do you mean—the kiss? The silhouette?’

‘You and Gerry must have planned that. Tell me you planned it. It couldn’t have been more photogenic. I guarantee you that someone will put that picture on a calendar next year.’

Dread swept over her. ‘Is that what you think of me? That I planned to kiss Rhuaridh?’

‘Best career move ever,’ came Louie’s prompt reply.

Now she was sitting bolt upright in bed. They’d caught the last ferry to Arran the night before and when she’d gone to Rhuaridh’s cottage there had been no one home—not even Mac.

She hadn’t managed to see the last lot of the footage. Gerry had some excuse about technical issues. Now she knew why. She’d kill him. She’d kill him with her bare hands.

She stumbled out of bed, her feet getting caught in the blankets. For a few seconds she blinked then glanced at her watch. It was still dark outside. Shouldn’t it be daytime? She kept the phone pressed to her ear as she walked over and drew back the curtains, flinching back at the thick dark clouds and mist.

‘Don’t you dare use that footage. I’ve not seen it. And I didn’t agree to it being used.’

‘Of course you did,’ said Louie quickly. ‘It’s in your contract.’

‘Please, Louie.’ She didn’t know whether to shout or burst into tears. She’d try either if she thought they might work. ‘I let you get away with using my sick footage. But not this stuff. It’s not fair on me. And it’s not fair on Rhuaridh.’

‘Oh, it’s not fair on Rhuaridh?’ Louie’s voice rose and Kristie knew his eyebrows had just shot upwards. ‘Well, it’s pretty obvious that you like him now. But just remember, you have a job to do. And don’t forget exactly what he’s getting in return for us filming. And anyway, by the end of all this neither of you two will need to work. You’ll spend the next few years touting yourselves around the talk shows. The public will love this.’

Her heart plummeted. Everything she’d felt about the kiss, the anticipation, the expectation, the longing, and the electricity—the whole moment had stayed in her mind like some delicious kind of dream. But now it seemed tarnished. It seemed contrived and unreal. She sagged down onto her bed. She’d wanted to keep the kiss to herself. She’d wanted that intensely personal moment to remain between her and Rhuaridh. Because that’s the way it should be. Her perfect Christmas kiss.

‘Gotta go,’ Louie said quickly. ‘Got another call. Try and catch another kiss on film—or maybe have a fight. That could really kick the figures up.’

The phone clicked. He was gone.

Her brain was spinning. She’d planned to get up this morning and put the new clothes on she’d bought to meet Rhuaridh. She had the whole thing pictured in her head. The checked pinafore she’d picked up that almost looked tartan, along with the thick black tights and black sweater—again clothing she’d never have a chance to wear in LA. It was amazing how a few days in Scotland a month had started to change her wardrobe. She’d never had much use for chunky tights, warm clothing and thick winter jackets. She even had a few coloured scarves, gloves and hats.

Now the pinafore hanging over the back of the chair in the room seemed to be mocking her. Her jaw tightened. She grabbed yesterday’s jeans and shirt, pulling them on in two minutes flat, and marched across the hall towards Gerry’s room. She couldn’t hide the fact she was anything other than mad.

‘You filmed us? You filmed us and you didn’t tell me?’ She had burst straight through the door—not even knocking.

Gerry was standing with his back to her, the camera at his shoulder. He spun around and swayed. She stepped forward to continue her tirade but the words stuck somewhere in her throat. Gerry’s skin was glassy. She couldn’t even describe the colour. White, translucent, with even a touch of grey.

Even before she got a chance to get any more words out, Gerry’s eyes rolled and he pitched forward onto the bed.

‘Gerry!’ she yelled, grabbing at him and fumbling him round onto his back. She knelt on the bed and shook both his shoulders. But his eyes remained closed.

She tried to remember what she’d seen on TV. She felt around for a pulse, not finding anything at the neck but eventually finding a weak, thready pulse at his wrist. She squinted at his chest. Was he breathing? It seemed very slow.

She grabbed her phone and automatically pressed Rhuaridh’s number. He answered after the second ring. His voice was bright. ‘Kristie, are you—?’

‘Help. I need help. It’s Gerry. He’s collapsed at the bed and breakfast we’re staying in.’

She could hear the change in his tone immediately, almost like he’d flicked a switch to go into doctor mode. ‘Kristie, where is he?’

‘On the bed.’ She was leaning over Gerry, watching him intently.

‘Was there an accident?’

‘What? No. He just collapsed.’

‘Is he breathing?’

She paused, eyes fixed on Gerry’s chest. ‘I... I think so.’

‘Has he got a pulse?’

‘Yes, but it’s not strong...and it’s not regular.’

‘Kristie, I’m getting in the car. Pam has phoned for the ambulance. Which B and B are you at?’

She glanced over her shoulder to find the name on the folder on the bedside table, reciting the name to Rhuaridh.

‘I’ll be five minutes. Shout for help. Get someone to stay with you, and tell them to make sure the front door is open.’

It was the longest five minutes of her life. When Rhuaridh appeared at the door, at the same time as the ambulance crew, she wanted to throw her arms around him.

She moved out of the way as they quickly assessed Gerry, then moved him onto a stretcher. Gerry seemed to have regained consciousness, although his colour remained terrible. She darted around to the side of the bed and grabbed his hand. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t feel well?’ she asked.

He shook his head and as he made that movement, parts of her brain sprang to life. The way his colour hadn’t been great the last few months, his indigestion, his tiredness.

A tear sprang to her eye. She’d missed it. Sh

e should have told him to get checked out. But she’d been too preoccupied with herself, too occupied with the show—and with Rhuaridh—to properly look out for her colleague.

Rhuaridh pulled some bottles from his bag and found two separate tablets. ‘Gerry,’ he said firmly. ‘I need you to swallow these two tablets. It’s important. Can you do that for me?’

One of the ambulance crew handed him a glass of water with a straw. ‘C’mon, mate, let’s see if you can manage these.’

After a few seconds Gerry grimaced then managed to swallow down the tablets. Rhuaridh opened Gerry’s shirt and quickly attached a monitor to his chest.

Kristie reached out and touched his shoulder. ‘Gerry, I’m sorry, please be okay.’

Gerry’s eyes flickered open. ‘Hey,’ he said shakily. ‘Remember the camera.’ He gave a crooked smile. ‘Don’t want to miss anything.’ His eyes closed again and Kristie felt herself moved aside as the ambulance crew member reached for the stretcher.

She gulped then grabbed the car keys as Rhuaridh turned towards her. ‘What’s wrong?’ she whispered.

Rhuaridh’s voice was low. ‘I think he’s had a heart attack. I’ll be able to confirm it at the hospital.’

She nodded as a tear rolled down her cheek.

‘Hey,’ he said softly as he picked up his bag. His other hand reached up and brushed her tear away. ‘Don’t cry. We’ll get things sorted.’

‘Doc?’ A voice carried from outside the door. One of the ambulance crew stuck his head back inside. ‘We might have a problem.’

* * *

He was stuck between trying to reassure Kristie and trying to reassure himself.

The weather was abysmal. No helicopter could land on Arran or take off in the next few hours. It seemed he was it.

This happened. This was island life. Thankfully it didn’t happen too often, but in the modern age lots of people didn’t really understand what living on an island meant.

Kristie was pacing outside as Rhuaridh read Gerry’s twelve-lead ECG and rechecked his observations. Normally people with a myocardial infarction would be transported to hospital and treated within two hours. But those two hours were ticking past quickly and Gerry had no hope of reaching a cardiac unit.