Lynne Marshall – Wedding Date With The Army Doc (страница 1)
A few years ago I thought up a story about a female pathologist and ran it by my editor. The story had many flaws and needed much work. At the time I opted to put it away in a drawer, but I didn’t stop thinking about it. After letting the story rest for a while I went back to it and, with the extensive notes I’d received from my editor the first time around, I reworked everything. I’m so happy I did.
Charlotte, my courageous pathologist, made a life-changing decision based on a potential killer that many women have to face. Cancer. She opted to be pre-emptive, and her decision was radical, but in her mind it was saving her life. She had strong reasons for making this decision, based on watching her mother’s battle with and eventual defeat by cancer.
Jackson had everything going for him in life until a second tour of Afghanistan on an army medical team changed everything. He came home wounded and lost, and the already weakened fabric of his marriage didn’t hold up under the stress. But, having almost lost it all, he courageously fought his way back and changed direction. Unfortunately divorce was part of that change, but a new beginning three thousand miles across country in California turned out to be his saving grace.
Picture a small pathology office in the basement of a hospital, where these two wounded and healing people come together in a most unromantic way. Against all odds love still raises its head, as well as the consciousness of these two meant-to-be people. All it takes is their willingness to risk another chance at love.
Is it worth it? Come read Charlotte and Jackson’s story, so you can make your own decision.
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LYNNE MARSHALL used to worry that she had a serious problem with daydreaming—and then she discovered she was supposed to
Wedding Date
with the Army Doc
Lynne Marshall
Many thanks to Flo Nicoll, with her uncanny gift of pinpointing the missing link in my manuscripts and for giving me the freedom to explore diverse and difficult stories.
Also, I’d like to dedicate this book to the ‘Dr Gordon’ I remember so well from my first job, working in a pathology department. I learned so much and was given many opportunities all those years ago! Knowing ‘Dr Gordon’ changed the direction of my life. May he rest in peace.
‘Heartfelt emotion that will bring you to the point of tears, for those who love a second-chance romance written with exquisite detail.’
Contents
CHARLOTTE JOHNSON MADE the necessary faces to chew the amazing chocolate, nut and caramel candy she’d just shoved into her mouth between looking at pathology slides. Mid-nut-and-caramel-chew, she glanced up to see a hulking shadow cover her office door. Her secret surgeon crush, Jackson Ryland Hilstead the Third, blocked the fluorescent light from the hallway, causing her to narrow her eyes in order to make out his features. Be still, my heart, and, oh, heavens, stop chewing. Now!
Except she couldn’t talk unless she finished chewing and swallowed, and she figured he’d come for a reason, as he always did Friday afternoons. Probably because of his heavy schedule of surgeries on Thursday and Friday mornings. He’d ask her questions about his patients’ diagnoses and prognoses, and she’d dutifully answer. It had become their routine, and she looked forward to it. After all, as the staff surgical pathologist at St. Francis of the Valley Hospital, it was her job to be helpful to her fellow medical colleagues, even while, in his case, thinking how she’d love to brush that one brown, wavy lock of hair off his forehead. Yeah, she was hopelessly crushing on the man.
She lifted her finger, hoping her sign for “One moment” might compute with the astute doc, then covered her mouth with the other hand as she chewed furiously. Finally, she swallowed with a gulp, feeling heat rise from her neck upward. Great impression.
“Don’t let me interfere,” he said, an amused look on his face. “The last thing I want to do is come between a woman and her chocolate.” Obviously he’d noticed the candy-bar wrapper on her desk.
She grabbed a bottle of water and took a quick swig. “You’re sounding sexist. How unlike you,” she teased, hoping she didn’t have candy residue on her teeth. Of all the male doctors she dealt with on a daily basis, this surgeon was the one who made her feel self-conscious. It most certainly had a lot to do with his piercing blue eyes that the hospital scrubs seemed to highlight brighter than an OR lamp. She pulled her lab coat closed when his eyes surreptitiously and briefly scanned her from head to toe. Or as much as he could see of her with her sitting behind her double-headed microscope.
“Ah, Charlotte...” He sat down across from her. “How well you don’t know me. If you weren’t my favorite pathologist, I’d be offended.” Finally responding to her halfhearted “sexist” slur.
The guy was a Southern gentleman from Georgia, and she wasn’t above stereotyping him, because he was a walking billboard for good manners, charm and—perhaps not quite as appealing considering the odds in a competitive and overstocked female world, in California anyway—knowing how to relate to women. The word smooth came to mind. But it was balanced with sincerity, a rare combination. Plus there was no escaping that slow, rolling-syllable accent, like warm honey down her spine, setting off all sorts of nerve endings she’d otherwise forgotten. He spoke as though they had all the time in the world to talk. She could listen to him all day, and if she’d owned a fan she’d be flapping it now.
“Well, if you weren’t one of my favorite surgeons,” she lied, as he was her absolute favorite, “I would’ve eaten the rest of it.”
One corner of his mouth hitched the tiniest bit. “I think you already have, but don’t worry, your gooey-chocolate choice would be number ten on my list of top three favorite candy bars.”
Busted, she batted her lashes, noticing his spearmint-and-sandalwood scent as he moved closer. She inhaled a little deeper, thinking he liked to change up his aftershave, and that intrigued her.
“And since you brought up the subject of sexism, I’ve got to say you look great today. Turquoise suits you.”
He regularly paid her compliments, which she loved, but figured he was like that with all the women he encountered, so she never took them too seriously. Though she had to admit she longed for him to mean them. What did that say about her dating life? Something in the way his eyes watched her and waited for a response whenever he flattered her made her wonder if maybe she was a tiny bit more special than all the other ladies in the hospital. She liked the idea of that.
“Thank you,” she said, sounding as self-effacing as ever.
“Thank you,” he countered.
Their gazes held perhaps a second longer than she could take, so she pretended the slide on the microscope tray required her immediate and complete attention. “So what do you need?”
Intensely aware of his do-you-really-want-to-know? gaze—this was new and it was a challenge that shook her to the bone—she fought the urge to squirm. Yeah, sexist or sexy or whatever it was he just did with those eyes was way out of her comfort zone. So why did that look excite her, make her wish things could be the way they had been before her operation? Where was that invisible fan again? Shame. Shame. Shame. And she called herself a professional woman.
“Do you have the slides yet for Gary Underwood? A lung biopsy from yesterday afternoon. I’ve got an impatient wife demanding her husband’s results.”
“The weekend is coming, so I can understand her concern.” Charlotte hadn’t yet finished the slides from yesterday morning’s cases, but she was always willing to fish out a few newer ones for interested doctors. Jackson was as concerned about his patients as they came. Another thing she really liked about the guy.
She turned on the desk lamp, sorted through the pile of cardboard slide cases, each carefully labeled by the histology technicians, and found the slides in question. They settled in to study them, their knees nearly touching as they sat on opposite sides of the small table that held her dual-headed teaching microscope. She put her hair behind her ears and moved in, but not before seeing him notice her dangly turquoise earrings that matched her top. She could tell from the spark in his eyes that he liked them, too, but this time kept the fact to himself.