In Bed With the Boss
‘Yes, but don’t worry. I’m not interested.’ Liar! Of course you’re interested—what man wouldn’t be? He scowled darkly and added, ‘She’s got the same imperious everyone-is-beneath-me air as her father.’
‘Yes, well, I reckon Bevis Willoughby would be the father-in-law from hell,’ Madeleine said with grimace. ‘No one, and I mean no one, is going to be good enough for his precious princess.’
Ben rolled his eyes as he got to his feet. ‘Tell me about it,’ he said. ‘I pity the guy who gets the job of asking for his daughter’s hand in marriage.’
Madeleine lifted her brows again. ‘Do men still do that these days?’ she asked, reaching for the coffee-pot.
‘My late father did,’ Ben said. ‘And even my stepfather asked for a private meeting with my grandfather. I guess eventually I’ll have to follow their example.’
‘So in spite of public opinion, country-bred men are much more sophisticated and refined than they are given credit for,’ Madeleine mused.
‘Try telling that to Professor Willoughby,’ Ben said as he shouldered open the door. ‘He used to glance at my shoes during every Monday morning tutorial to check for cow manure.’
Madeleine laughed. ‘Did you bring some in to annoy him?’ Ben grinned. ‘What do you think?’ he said, and, winking at her, left.
The accident happened right in front of her. Georgie slammed on the brakes as the car in front of her ran into the one in front of it, the sound of metal crunching against metal sickening to say the least.
She pulled slightly towards the centre of the road to prevent more cars from ramming up the back of the already crashed vehicles, and turned on her hazard lights. There had been a case recently of a good Samaritan rescue gone wrong when another car had severely injured a rescuer. She’d resolved in a similar situation to put her car between herself and any rescue mission she undertook. She approached the car in front where a woman in her early thirties was looking pale and upset, her small infant crying volubly in the babyseat in the back.
An older man was getting out of the first car, his face puce with anger as he strode over to the young mother. ‘What the hell you do think you’re doing, you stupid idiot?’ he stormed. ‘Didn’t you see the red light or are you just plain dumb?’
‘Excuse me, sir,’ Georgie said, as she placed her doctor’s bag on the road. ‘I’m a doctor. Are you hurt in any way?’
The man peered down at her. ‘No, but I want to press charges for—’
‘Never mind that now,’ Georgie interrupted firmly. ‘Step back and out of the way. I need to see to this young woman’s baby. You can sort your grievances out later. Go and wait by your car until the police arrive.’
The man looked as if he was going to argue the point but Georgie had already opened her bag and slung her stethoscope around her neck to drive home her professional advantage.
She turned to the mother and smiled reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll soon cool down. Now, let’s have a look at you both.’
‘I’m fine,’ the young mother said, wiping away tears of distress. ‘But Jasmine …’
‘Is that your name, sweetie?’ Georgie crooned as she expertly examined the baby girl, who looked about eight months old. ‘Did you get a big nasty shock when Mummy’s car suddenly stopped?’
‘Is she all right?’ the mother asked with a wobble in her voice.
‘I can’t see anything wrong with her,’ Georgie said as she did a hasty primary survey up to ABCD, missing out on E. As she listened to the little girl’s chest with her stethoscope, she wasn’t sure whether she’d heard a faint murmur. When she listened again she couldn’t definitely pick it up. She pulled the baby’s top back down and tickled her under the chin before addressing the mother.
‘It seems like all is OK,’ Georgie said, ‘but she needs to be checked over properly at Accident and Emergency just to make sure everything is fine. I’ve already called an ambulance. It’s possible the restraints on her baby seat may have bruised her when the car stopped.’
‘I didn’t see the man’s brake lights,’ the young mother began to cry again.
‘Try not to upset yourself,’ Georgie said, putting a consoling hand on the woman’s shoulder. ‘Jasmine is probably crying because you are, aren’t you, poppet?’
The little baby gave her a toothless smile, two fat crystal tears still clinging to her blonde eyelashes, but thankfully her wailing had stopped.
Within a few moments a police car arrived, closely followed by the ambulance, the paramedics agreeing with Georgie’s advice to transport the baby to A and E for assessment. While the paramedics extracted the child from her seat with neck support, and onto a trolley, Georgie wrote basic notes and obs onto a paper pad from her car, and gave it to the ambulance driver to add to their own hospital notes.
After the ambulance had left, Georgie stopped to have a quick chat with the policewoman attending the accident. She knew her from the gym and had often exchanged an early-morning greeting with her in the change room in the past. ‘Hi, Belinda,’ she said. ‘Fancy meeting you here.’
Belinda Bronson smiled. ‘I didn’t see you at the fit ball class this morning.’
‘I was on call last night and slept through my alarm.’
Belinda ran her gaze over Georgie’s neat skirt and top and mid-height heels. ‘You know, I almost didn’t recognise you with your clothes on.’
Georgie grinned. ‘No wonder they’ve banned camera phones in the gym.’