The Boy Who Made Them Love Again Dec 2011
From Dr Storm to Devoted Dad When Luke Storm ended his relationship with Abby Tyler, he thought he was doing the right thing. Abby so wanted children and Luke knew he could never give them to her.Now, five years later, he meets Abby again, and with a little boy of her own, Luke is rocked. She's as gorgeous and adorable as ever, but if he wants Abby back in his life again he realises he has to let her special little son into his heart and become the father he never expected to be........
The Boy Who Made Them Love Again
If Abby Tyler had known how the day was going to end she might not have gotten out of bed that day.
As it was, she leaned back in her chair, arched her back and then did something that she never did - put her feet up on the desk. Pelican Cove was quieter than quiet. She hadn’t treated a patient in the last hour.
She took a sip of the strong dark coffee she’d just made and nibbled on one of the nearby homemade oatmeal and raisin cookies. She gave a huge sigh and smiled over to one of the nearby nurses, “Nancy, you make the best cookies.” Abby closed her eyes for a second. Recovery time. Rueben had woken at three a.m. and came through to tell her a story. The story had lasted the best part of an hour and was full of animal noises and hand gestures. It seemed as though she’d been blessed with a child who didn’t require much sleep. Through her heavy lids she could see the rest of the emergency room staff giving her knowing nods and moving off to the far end of the reception desk. The staff here were a great, tight-knit team with a real community approach.
As an emergency care paediatric physician Abby loved the twelve weeks a year that she covered in the community hospital, in fact, it was one of the reasons that she’d taken the job. San Francisco was much more frantic. This gave her the opportunity to do some much-needed paediatric out-patient clinics and practice emergency medicine.
There was a screech of tyres outside. It startled her, breaking her from the easing gentle lullaby that had been repeating in her head. Seconds later a pair of heavy feet pounded inside. The dark business suit, crisp white shirt, flash red tie and shock of white blond hair drew the immediate attention of the surrounding staff.
Abby blinked. Twice. Before breaking into a lazy smile and brushing the cookie crumbs from her scrubs. “Luke Storm. I always knew some day you’d come walking back through my door. I never doubted that. Something made it inevitable.” The words were out of her mouth in an instant. An automatic natural reaction to him, adapted from a film they’d watched together as med students. She ran her eyes up and down his muscular frame. Still every bit the male model. “So what can I do for you?”
“You can take your feet off the desk for a start.”
“I take it you work here?”
Abby gestured to the white board on the wall with her name on it. “I take it I do,” she answered calmly, refusing to let him rile her.
“What facilities do you have for premies?”
That got her attention. “What?” She pulled her feet off the desk and stood up. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I don’t have time for a debate Abby. I need to know if you can deal with a premature delivery or not. And I need to know now.”
Abby watched in disbelief as her calm emergency unit was instantly transformed into a scene of chaos. Half a dozen dark-suited men, some with obvious bulges in their jackets, swarmed through the doors and immediately started covering exits whilst muttering into small silver dots on their lapels and holding their earpieces. “What on earth…” Luke grabbed hold of her arm. “What facilities do you have Abby?”
Abby shrugged her arm from his firm grasp. Her brain shifting sharply into focus. “This is small 25 bed acute-care hospital Luke. It’s mainly used for routine surgeries and outpatient consultations. We have this emergency department and we have equipment for emergency deliveries but we only have one neonate cot. Once stabilised we tend to transfer to San Francisco Children’s Hospital.”
“Do you have a paed?”
It was obvious Luke wasn’t thinking straight. What on earth had rattled him so much? Abby tilted her head a smile dancing across her lips. His words were rapid and harsh and she could see from the deep frown lines in his forehead that a million different things were spinning around in his head. An expression she’d seen more than once.
Her pale skinned hand reached across the desk and squeezed his golden tanned one. Like chalk and cheese. The way they’d always been with each other. “I’m the paed Luke.”
His head turned abruptly towards her. “You’re the paed?” She could almost see the pieces falling into place in his head as the moment of realisation struck him, “Of course you are. Then it’s you that I need.” His hand closed around hers, pulling her towards the door. Just for a second she saw the characteristic gleam in his eyes that she remembered so well, “Don’t suppose you’ve got an obstetrician handy?”
“Actually I do.” She ground to a halt, stopping him in his tracks. “But I’ve no intention of phoning him until you tell me exactly what’s going on. I take it you’ve got a patient for me?”
“Actually I’ve got two – but the second one I can take care of myself.”
“What do you mean?” This was getting more bizarre by the minute.
“He’s a cardiac patient. Where do you transfer your MI’s to?”
She tugged on his hand. “Stop Luke,” she said in a low voice and pulled him closer to her. Her senses were bombarded by the smell of him, bringing back fragments of past memories. But something was different. A new scent. A new cologne. Something fresh and sharp, reminding her of the crashing waves on the sea. She inched even closer. She could see the deep etched frown lines on his brow, the tiny beads of perspiration glistening under the hospital lights. “Slow down and take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on.”
She heard him let out a deep sigh before he glanced over at one of the dark-suited men, who gave him a tiny nod of approval. He ran his fingers through his short white blond hair, his eyes glancing at the ceiling, with one corner of his lip curling upwards. “You’re about to deliver the First Lady’s baby.”