An undeniable attraction...

In search of her independence, Dr. Juliette Allen’s time in Costa Rica was meant for chasing adventure...not facing the constant temptation of her sexy, arrogant new boss, Damien Caldwell!

Damien can’t understand why gorgeous, fiery Juliette would hide herself away in the jungle but quickly learns not to underestimate the quiet strength of this auburn beauty. And when tragedy strikes Damien finds himself on an unexpected mission—to open Juliette’s heart and convince her to take a chance on love!

Dear Reader,

Thanks so much for coming back to read another of my books. This story, Saved by Doctor Dreamy, is set in one of my favourite places—Costa Rica. As I’m a former nurse it interests me, because the healthcare system deals with modern medicine as well as jungle medicine, which is very much part of the culture. In my story Juliette and Damien have to meet in the middle of both medical worlds to find out what’s best suited to them.

I read an article about nursing practices in the 1800s, and added some of those elements to Saved by Doctor Dreamy. Medical conditions around the world vary, and what’s modern in one society is primitive in another. We see that in the little hospital where my characters work. They face harsh conditions because they have no other choices, and make tough decisions based on what they have.

I love writing about difficult hospital conditions, and have incorporated that theme into several of my previous books—because what better time is there to bring two people together than when facing hardship?

Again, I appreciate you reading Saved by Doctor Dreamy, and I’ll be back shortly with another book!

As always, wishing you health and happiness,

Dianne

Saved by Doctor Dreamy

Dianne Drake

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Books by Dianne Drake

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

Deep South Docs

A Home for the Hot-Shot Doc

A Doctor’s Confession

A Child to Heal Their Hearts

Tortured by Her Touch

Doctor, Mummy…Wife?

The Nurse and the Single Dad

Visit the Author Profile page at

at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Dear Reader

Title Page

Booklist

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

THE NIGHT WAS STILL. No howler monkeys sitting up in the trees yelling their heads off. No loud birds calling into the darkness. Damien doubted if there was even a panther on the prowl anywhere near here. It was kind of eerie actually, since he was used to the noise. First, the city noise in Seattle, where he grew up. Then Chicago, Miami, New York. Back to Seattle. And finally, the noise of the Costa Rican jungle, where he’d come to settle.

Noise was his friend. It comforted him, reassured him that he was still alive. Something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. And when it surrounded him, it was home and safety and all the things that kept him sane and focused on the life he was living now.

When Damien had come to the jungle he’d been pleasantly surprised by the noisiness of it all. It was as loud as any city, but in a different way. He’d traded in people for animals and honking cars for wind rustling through the vegetation. Now that he was used to the sounds there, he counted on them to surround him, to cradle him in a contented solitude. But tonight was different. He felt so...isolated, so out of touch with his reality. So lonely. Alone in the city—alone in the jungle. It was all the same. All of it bringing a sense of despair that caught up with him from time to time.

This despair of his had been a problem over the years. People didn’t understand it. Didn’t want to. Most of the time he didn’t want to understand it either, because when he did he’d overcompensate. Do things he might not normally do. Like getting engaged to someone he wouldn’t have normally given a second thought to.

But Daniel understood this about him. Daniel—he was the only one, and he’d never ridiculed Damien for what other people thought was ridiculous. Of course, he and Daniel had the twin-connection thing going on, and that was something that never failed him.

Damien and Daniel Caldwell. Two of a kind—well, not so much. They looked alike, with a few notable exceptions like hair length and beard. Daniel was the clean-shaven, short-haired version, while Damien was the long-haired, scruffy-bearded one. But they were both six foot one, had the same brown eyes, same dimples that women seemed to adore. Same general build. Apart from their outward looks, though, they couldn’t have been more different. Restlessness and the need to keep moving were Damien’s trademarks while contented domesticity and a quiet lifestyle were his brother’s. Which Damien envied, as he’d always figured that by the time he was thirty-five he’d have something in his life more stable than what he had. Something substantial. Yet that hadn’t happened.

It’s too quiet tonight, Damien scribbled into a short letter to his brother. It feels like it’s going to eat me alive. He’d seen Daniel a few months ago. Gone back to the States for Daniel’s wedding. And it was a happy reunion, not like the time before that when he’d been called home to support his brother through his first wife’s death. But Daniel had moved on now. He had a happy life, a happy family. Lucky, lucky man.

The work is good, though, bro. It keeps me busy pretty much all the time. Keeps me out of trouble. So how’s your new life fitting into your work schedule?

Daniel’s life—a nice dream. Even though, deep down, Damien didn’t want strings to bind him to one place, one lifestyle. Rather, he needed to do what he wanted, when he wanted, with no one to account to. And space to think, to reevaluate. Or was that another of his overcompensations? Anyway, he had that now, although he’d had to come to the remote jungles of Costa Rica to find it. In that remoteness, however, he’d found a freedom he’d never really had before.

And remote it was. Isolated from all the everyday conveniences that Costa Rica’s large cities offered. Not even attractive to the never-ending flow of expats who were discovering the charms of this newly modernizing Central American country.

Most of the time Damien thrived on the isolation, not that he was, by nature, a solitary kind of man. Because he wasn’t. Or at least didn’t used to be. In his former life, he’d liked fast cars, nice condos and beautiful women. In fact, he’d thrived on those things before he’d escaped them. Now, the lure of the jungle had trapped him in a self-imposed celibacy, and that wasn’t just of a sexual nature. It was a celibacy from worldly matters. A total abstinence from anything that wasn’t directed specifically toward him. A time to figure out where he was going next in his life. Or if he was even going to go anywhere else at all.

In the meantime, Damien didn’t regret turning his back on his old life in order to take off on this new one. In ways he’d never expected, it suited him.

Say hello to Zoey for me, and tell her I’m glad she joined the family. And give Maddie a kiss from her Uncle Damien.

Damien scrawled his initials at the bottom of the letter, stuck it in an envelope and addressed it. Maybe sometime in the next week or so he’d head into Cima de la Montaña to stock up on some basic necessities and mail the letter. Call his parents if he got near enough to a cell tower. And find a damned hamburger!

“We need you back in the hospital, Doctor,” Alegria Diaz called through his open window. She was his only trained nurse—a woman who’d left the jungle to seek a higher education. Which, in these parts, was a rarity as the people here didn’t usually venture too far out into the world.

“What is it?” he called back, bending down to pull on his boots.

“Stomachache. Nothing serious. But he wouldn’t listen to me. Said he had to see el médico.”

El médico. The doctor. Yes, that was him. The doctor who directed one trained nurse, one semiretired, burned-out plastic surgeon and a handful of willing, if not experienced, volunteers.

“Let me put my shirt back on and comb my hair, and I’ll be right over.” A year ago his world had been very large. Penthouse. Sports car. Today it was very small. A one-room hut twenty paces from the hospital. A borrowed pickup truck that worked as often as it didn’t.

Damien donned a cotton T-shirt, pulled his hair back and rubber-banded it into a small ponytail, and headed out the door. Being on call 24/7 wasn’t necessarily the best schedule, but that was the life he’d accepted for himself and it was also the life he was determined to stick with. For how long? At least until he figured out what his next life would be. Or if he’d finally stumbled upon the life he wanted.

“I wanted to give him an antacid,” Alegria told him as he entered through the door of El Hospital Bombacopsis, which sat central in the tiny village of Bombacopsis.

“But he refused it?” Damien asked, stopping just inside the door.

“He said a resbaladera would fix him.”

Resbaladera—a rice and barley drink. “Well, we don’t serve that here and, even if we did, I’ve never heard that it has any medicinal benefits for a stomachache.”

Alegria smiled up at him. She was a petite woman, small in frame, short in height. Dark skin, black hair, dark eyes. Mother of three, grandmother of one. “He won’t take an antacid from you,” she warned.

“And yesterday he wouldn’t take an aspirin from me when he had a headache. So why’s he here in the first place, if he refuses medical treatment?”

“Señor Segura takes sick twice a year, when his wife goes off to San José to visit her sister.”

“She leaves, and he catches a cold and comes to the hospital.” Damien chuckled.

“Rosalita is a good cook here. He likes her food.”

“Well, apparently he ate too much of it tonight, since he’s sick at his stomach.”

Alegria shrugged. “He’s hard to control once you put a plate of casado in front of him.”

Casado—rice, black beans, plantains, salad, tortillas and meat. One of Damien’s favorite Costa Rican meals. But he didn’t go all glutton on it the way Señor Segura apparently had. “Well, casado or not, I’m going to check him out, and if this turns out to be a simple stomachache from overeating I’m going to give him an antacid and tell Rosalita to cut back on his portions.”

“He won’t like that,” Alegria said.

“And I don’t like having my evening interrupted by a patient who refuses to do what his nurse tells him.”

“Whatever you say, Doctor.” Alegria scooted off to fetch the antacid while Damien approached his cantankerous patient.

“I hear you won’t take the medicine my nurse wanted to give you.”

“It’s no good,” Señor Segura said. “Won’t cure what’s wrong with me.”

“But a rice and barley drink will?”

“That’s what my Guadalupe always gives me when I don’t feel so well.”

“Well, Guadalupe is visiting her sister now, which means we’re the ones who are going to have to make you feel better.” Damien bent down and prodded the man’s belly, then had a listen to his belly sounds through a stethoscope. He checked the chart for the vital signs Alegria had already recorded, then took a look down Señor Segura’s throat. Nothing struck him as serious so he signaled Alegria to bring the antacid over to the bedside. “OK, you’re sick. But it’s only because you ate too much. My nurse is going to give you a couple of tablets to chew that will make you feel better.”

“The tablets are no good. I want resbaladera like my Guadalupe makes.”

Damien refused to let this man try his patience, which was going to happen very quickly if he didn’t get this situation resolved. It was a simple matter, though. Two antacid tablets would work wonders, if he could convince Señor Segura to give in. “I don’t have resbaladera here, and we’re not going to make it specifically for you.” They had neither the means nor the money to make special accommodations for one patient.

“Then I’ll stay sick until I get better, or die!”

“You’re not going to die from a stomachache,” Damien reassured him.

“And I’m not going to die because I wouldn’t take your pills.”

So there it was. The standoff. It happened sometimes, when the village folk here insisted on sticking to their traditional ways. He didn’t particularly like giving in, when he knew that what he was trying to prescribe would help. But in cases like Señor Segura’s, where the cure didn’t much matter one way or another, he found it easier to concede the battle and save his arguments for something more important.

“Well, if you’re refusing the tablets, that’s up to you. But just keep in mind that your stomachache could last through the night.”

“Then let it,” Señor Segura said belligerently. Then he looked over at Alegria. “And you can save those pills for somebody else.”

Alegria looked to Damien for instruction. “Put them back,” Damien told her.

“Yes, Doctor,” she said, frowning at Señor Segura. “As you wish.”

What he wished was that he had more space, better equipment, more trained staff and up-to-date medicines. In reality, though, he had a wood-frame, ten-bed hospital that afforded no luxuries whatsoever and a one-room, no-frills clinic just off the entrance to the ward. It was an austere setup, and he had to do the best with it that he could. But the facility’s lack was turning into his lack of proper service, as he didn’t have much to offer anyone. Basic needs were about all he could meet. Of course, it was his choice to trade in a lucrative general surgery practice in Seattle for all of this. So he wasn’t complaining. More like, he was wishing.

One day, he thought to himself as he took a quick look at the only other patient currently admitted to the hospital. She was a young girl with a broken leg whose parents couldn’t look after her properly and still tend to their other nine children. So he’d set her leg, then admitted her, and wasn’t exactly sure what to do with her other than let her occupy space until someone more critical needed the bed.

“She’s fine,” Alegria told him before he took his place at the bedside. “I checked her an hour ago and she’s sound asleep.”

Damien nodded and smiled. The only thing that would turn this worthless evening into something worthwhile would be to shut himself in his clinic and take a nap on the exam table. Sure, it was the lazy way out, since his real bed was only a few steps away. But his exam room was closer, and he was suddenly bone-tired. And his exam table came with a certain appeal he couldn’t, at this moment, deny. So Damien veered off to the clinic, shut the door behind him and was almost asleep before he stretched out on the exam room table.

* * *

“Like I’ve been telling you for the past several weeks, I don’t want a position in administration here at your hospital. I don’t want to be your sidekick. I don’t want to be put through the daily grind of budgets and salaries and supply orders!”

Juliette Allen took a seat across the massive mahogany desk from her father, Alexander, and leaned forward. “And, most of all, I don’t want to be involved in anything that smacks of nepotism.” Standing up to her dad was something she should have done years ago, but first her schooling, then her work had overtaken her, thrown her into a rut. Made her complacent. Then one day she woke up in the same bedroom she’d spent thirty-three years waking up in, had breakfast at the same table she’d always had breakfast at, and walked out the front door she’d always walked out of. Suddenly, she’d felt stifled. Felt the habits of her life closing in around her, choking her. And that’s what her life had turned into—one big habit.

“This isn’t nepotism, Juliette,” Alexander said patiently. “It’s about me promoting the most qualified person to the position.”

“But I didn’t apply for the position!” She was too young to be a director of medical operations in a large hospital. The person filling that spot needed years more experience than she had and she knew that. What she also knew was that this was her father’s way of keeping her under his thumb. “And I think it’s presumptuous of you to submit an application on my behalf.”

“You’re qualified, Juliette. And you have a very promising future.”

“I direct the family care clinic, another position you arranged for me.”

“And your clinic is one of the best operated in this hospital.” Dr. Alexander Allen was a large man, formidable in his appearance, very sharp, very direct. “This is a good opportunity for you, and I don’t understand why you’re resisting me.”

“Because I haven’t paid my dues, because I don’t have enough experience to direct the medical workings of an entire hospital.” The problem was, she’d always given in to her father. Juliette’s mother had died giving birth to her, and he’d never remarried, so it had always been just the two of them, which made it easy for him to control her with guilt over causing her mother’s death. Plus she was also consumed by the guilt of knowing that if she left him he wouldn’t fare so well on his own. For all his intelligence and power in the medical world, her father was insecure in his private world. Juliette’s mother had done everything for him, then it fell to Juliette to do the same.

Juliette adored her dad, despite the position he’d put her in. He’d been a very good father to her, always making sure she had everything she wanted and needed. More than she wanted and needed, actually. And she’d become accustomed to that opulent lifestyle, loved everything about it, which was why this was so difficult now. She was tied to the man in a way most thirty-three-year-old women were not tied to their fathers. Which was why her dad found it so easy to make his demands then sit back and watch her comply. “I just can’t do this, Dad,” she said, finally sitting back in her chair. “And I hope you can respect my position.”

“You’re seriously in jeopardy of missing your opportunity to promote yourself out of your current job, Juliette. When I was a young man, in a situation much like the one you’re in, I was always the first person in line to apply for any position that would further my career.”

“But you’ve always told me that your ultimate career goal was to do what you’re doing now—run an entire hospital. You, yourself, said you weren’t cut out for everyday patient care.”

“And my drive to get ahead has provided you with a good life. Don’t you forget that.”

“I’m not denying it, Dad. I appreciate all you’ve done for me and I love the life you’ve given me. But it’s time for me to guide my career without your help.” Something she should have done the day she’d entered medical school, except she hadn’t even broken away from him then. She’d stayed at home, gone to the university and medical school where her father taught because it was easier for him. And while that wasn’t necessarily her first choice, she always succumbed to her father when he started his argument with: “Your mother died giving birth to you and you can’t even begin to understand how rough that’s been on me, trying to take care of you, trying to be a good father—”

It was the argument he’d used time and time again when he thought he was about to lose her, the one that made her feel guilty, the one that always caused her to cave. But not this time. She’d made the decision first, then acted on it before she told him. And this time she was resolved to break away, because if she didn’t she’d end up living the life he lived. Alone. Substituting work for a real life.

“And it’s not about going into an administrative position, Dad.” Now she had to drop the real bomb, and it wasn’t going to be easy. “In fact, I have something somewhat administrative in mind for what I want to do next.”

“Why do I have a feeling that what you’re about to tell me is something I’m not going to like?” He looked straight across at his daughter. “I’m right, am I not?”

Juliette squared all five foot six of herself in her chair and looked straight back at him. “You’re right. And there’s no easy way to put this.” She stopped, waiting for him to say something, but when he didn’t she continued. “I’m going to resign from my position here at the hospital, Dad. In fact, I’m going to turn in my one-month notice tomorrow and have a talk with Personnel on how to replace me.”

“You’re leaving,” he stated. “Just turning your back on everything you’ve accomplished here and walking out the door.”

“I’m not turning my back on it, and I may come back someday. But right now, I’ve got to do something on my own, something you didn’t just hand me. And whether you want to admit it or not, all my promotions have been gifts. I didn’t earn them the way I should have.”

“But you’ve worked hard in every position you’ve had, and you’ve shown very good judgment and skill in everything you’ve done.”

“A lot of doctors can do that, Dad. I just happened to be the one whose father was Chief of Staff.”

“So you’re quitting because I’m Chief of Staff?”

“No, I’m quitting because I’m the chief of staff’s daughter.”

“Have I really piled that many unrealistic expectations on you? Because if I have, I can back off.”

“It’s not about backing off. It’s about letting go.” She didn’t want to hurt him, but he did have to understand that it was time for her to spread her wings. Test new waters. Take a different path. “I—We have to do it. It’s time.”

“But can’t you let go and still work here?”

“No.” She shut her eyes for a moment, bracing herself for the rest of this. “I’ve accepted another position.”

“Another hospital? There aren’t any better hospitals in Indianapolis than Memorial.”

“It’s not a hospital, and it’s not in Indianapolis.” She swallowed hard. “I’m going to Costa Rica.”

“The hell you are!” he bellowed. “What are you thinking, Juliette?”

She knew this was hard on him, and she’d considered leading up to this little by little. But her dad was hardheaded, and he was as apt to shut out the hints she might drop as he was to listen to them. Quite honestly, Alexander Allen heard only what he wanted to hear.

“What I’m thinking is that I’ve already made arrangements for a place to stay, and I’ll be leaving one month from Friday.”

“To do what?”

Now, this was where it became even more difficult. “I’m going to head up a medical recruitment agency.”

Her dad opened up his mouth to respond, but shut it again when nothing came out.

“The goal is to find first-rate medical personnel to bring there. Costa Rica, and even Central America as a whole, can’t supply the existing demand for medical professionals so they’re recruiting from universities and hospitals all over the world, and I’m going to be in charge of United States recruitment.”

“I know about medical recruitment. Lost a top-rate radiologist to Thailand a couple of years ago.”

“So you know how important it is to put the best people in situations where they can help a hospital or, in Costa Rica’s case, provide the best quality of care they can to the greatest number of people.”

“Which leaves people like me in the position of having to find a new radiologist or transplant surgeon or oncologist, depending on who you’re recruiting away from me.”

“But you’re already in an easier position to find the best doctors to fill your positions. You have easier access to the medical schools, a never-ending supply of residents to fill any number of positions in the hospital and you have connections to every major hospital in the country. These are things Costa Rica doesn’t have, so in order for them to find the best qualified professionals they have to reach out differently than you do. Which, in this case, will be through me.”

It was an exciting new venture for her and, while she wouldn’t be offering direct medical care herself, she envisioned herself involved in a great, beneficial service. And all she ever wanted to be as a doctor was someone who benefited her patients, and by providing the patients in Costa Rica with good health-care practitioners she’d be helping more patients than she’d ever be able to help as a single practitioner in a clinic. In fact, when she thought about how many lives only one single recruited doctor could improve, she was overwhelmed. And when she thought of how many practitioners she would recruit and how many patients they would touch, it boggled her mind. “It’s an important job, Dad. And I’m excited about it.”

“Excited or not, you’re throwing away a good medical career. You were a fine hospital physician, Juliette. In whatever capacity you chose.”

“You were, too, once upon a time, but you traded that in for a desk and thousand-dollar business suits. So don’t just sit there and accuse me of leaving medicine, because I’m not doing anything that you haven’t already done.”

“But in Costa Rica? Why there? Why not investigate something different closer to home, if you’re hell-bent on getting out of Memorial. Maybe medical research. We’ve got one of the world’s largest facilities just a few miles from here. Or maybe teaching. I mean, we’ve got, arguably, one of the best medical schools in the country right at our back door.”

“But I don’t want to teach, and I especially don’t want to do research. I also don’t want to work for an insurance company or provide medical care for a national sports franchise. What I want, Dad, is to find something that excites me. Something that offers a large group of people medical services they might not otherwise get. Something that will help an entire country improve its standard of care.”

“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?” her dad asked, sounding as if the wind had finally been knocked out of his sails.

Juliette shook her head. “No, Dad. There’s not. I’ve been looking into the details of my new position for weeks now, and I’m truly convinced this is something I want to do at this point in my life.”

“Well, I’m going to leave your position open for a while. Staff it with a temp, in case you get to Costa Rica and decide your new job isn’t for you. That way, you’ll have a place to come back to, just in case.”

Her dad was a handsome, vital man, and she hoped that once she was gone, and he didn’t have anybody else to depend on, he might actually go out and get a life for himself. Maybe get married. Or travel. Or sail around the world the way he used to talk about when she was a little girl. In some ways, Juliette felt as if she’d been holding him back. She still lived with him, worked with him, was someone to keep him company when no one else was around. It was an easy way for both of them but she believed that so much togetherness had stunted them both. She didn’t date, hadn’t dated very much as a whole, thanks to her work commitments, and she’d certainly never gone out and looked for employment outside of what her father had handed her.

Yes, that was all easy. But now it was over. It was time for her to move on. “If I do come back to Indianapolis in the future, I won’t be coming back to Memorial because I don’t think it’s a good idea that we work together anymore. We need to be separate, and if I’m here at Memorial that’s not going to happen.”

“Is this about something I’ve done to you, Juliette?” he asked, sounding like a totally defeated man.

“No, Dad. It’s about something I haven’t done for myself.” And about everything she wanted to do for herself in the future.

* * *

One month down, and so far she was enjoying her new job. She’d had the opportunity to interview sixteen potential candidates for open positions in various hospitals. Seven doctors, three registered nurses, three respiratory therapists, a physical therapist and two X-ray technicians, one of whom specialized in mammograms. And there were another ten on her list for the upcoming two weeks. The bonus was, she loved Costa Rica. What she’d seen of it so far was beautiful. The people were nice. The food good. The only thing was, her lifestyle was a bit more subdued than what she was used to. She didn’t have a nice shiny Jaguar to drive, but a tiny, used compact car provided by the agency. And her flat—not exactly luxurious like her home back in Indiana, but she was getting used to smaller, no-frills quarters and cheaper furniture. It was a drastic lifestyle change, she did have to admit, but she was doing the best she could with what she had.

Perhaps the most drastic change, though—the one thing she hadn’t counted on—was that she missed direct patient care in a big way. She’d reconciled herself to experiencing some withdrawal before she’d come here, but what she’d been feeling was overwhelming as she’d never considered that stepping away from it would take such an emotional toll on her. But it had. She was restless. When she didn’t stop herself, her mind wandered back to the days when she’d been involved directly in patient care. And it wasn’t that she didn’t like her job, because she did, and she had no intention of walking away from it. But she could physically, as well as emotionally, feel the lack in herself and she was afraid it was something that was only going to continue growing if she didn’t find a fix for it.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Cynthia Jurgensen, her office mate as well as her roommate, asked her. Like Juliette, Cynthia was a medical recruiter. Her recruitment area was the Scandinavian countries, as she had a heritage there. And, like Juliette, Cynthia had experienced the thrill of being called to a new adventure.

“Well, the note I found posted on the internet says the scheduling is flexible, so I’m hoping to work it out that I can commute in Friday night after I leave work here, and come home either late Sunday night or early Monday morning, before I’m due back on this job.”

“But it’s in the jungle, Juliette. The jungle!”

“And it’s going to allow me to be involved with direct patient care again. I’m just hoping it’s enough to satisfy me.”

“Well, you can do whatever you want, but leave me here in the city, with all my conveniences.”

San José was a large city, not unlike any large city anywhere. Juliette’s transition here had been minimal as she really hadn’t had time to get out and explore much of anything. So maybe her first real venture out, into the jungle of all places, was a bit more than most people would like, but the only thing Juliette could see was an opportunity to be a practicing doctor again. A doctor by the name of Damien Caldwell had advertised and, come tomorrow, she was going to go knocking on his door.

* * *

“Could you get one of the volunteers to take the linens home and wash them?” Damien asked Alegria. The hospital’s sheets and pillowcases were a motley assortment, most everything coming as donations from the locals. “Oh, and instruct Rosalita on the particulars of a mechanical diet. I’m admitting Hector Araya later on, and he has difficulty chewing and swallowing since he had his stroke, so we need to adjust his diet accordingly.”

Back in Seattle, Damien’s workload never came close to anything having to do with linens and food but here in Bombacopsis, everything in the hospital fell under his direct supervision. This morning, for instance, during his one and only break for the day, he’d even found himself fluffing pillows and passing out cups of water to the five patients now admitted. He didn’t mind the extra work, actually. It was just all a part of the job here. But he wondered if having another trained medical staffer come in, at least part-time, would ease some of the burden. That was why, when he’d gone to Cima de la Montaña last week to mail his letter to Daniel, he’d found a computer and posted a help-wanted ad on one of the local public sites.

Low pay, or possibly no pay.

Lousy hours and hard work.

Nice patients desperately in need of more medical help.

That was all his ad said, other than where to find him. No phone service. Come in person.

OK, so it might not have been the most appealing of ads. But it was honest, as the last thing he wanted was to have someone make that long trek into the jungle only to discover that their expectations fell nowhere within the scope of the position he was offering.

“There’s a woman outside who says she wants to see you,” Alegria said as she rushed by him, her arms full of bedsheets, on her way to change the five beds with patients in them.

“Can’t one of the volunteers do that for you?” Damien asked her. “Or Dr. Perkins?”

“Dr. Perkins is off on a house call right now, and I have only two volunteers on today. One is cleaning the clinic, and the other is scrubbing potatoes for dinner. So it’s either you or me and, since the woman outside looks determined to get in, I think I’ll change the sheets and leave that woman up to you.”

“Fine,” Damien said, setting aside the chart he’d been writing in. “I’ll go see what she wants. Is she a local, by the way?”

Alegria shook her head. “She’s one of yours.”

“Mine?”

“From the United States, I think. Or maybe Canada. Couldn’t tell from her accent.”

So a woman, possibly from North America somewhere, had braved the jungle to come calling. At first he wondered if she was some kind of pharmaceutical rep who’d seen the word hospital attached to this place and actually thought she might find a sale here. As if he had the budget to go after the newest, and always the most expensive, drugs. Nah. He was totally off the radar for that. So, could it be Nancy? Was she running after him, trying to convince him to give up his frugal ways and come back to her?

Been there, done that one. Found out he couldn’t tolerate the snobs. And if there ever was a snob, it was his ex-fiancée.

“I’m Juliette Allen,” the voice behind him announced.

Damien spun around and encountered the most stunning brown eyes he’d ever seen in his life. “I’m Damien Caldwell,” he said, extending his hand to shake hers. “And I wasn’t expecting you.” But, whoever she was, he was glad she’d come. Tall, long auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, ample curves, nice legs—nice everything. Yes, he was definitely glad.

“Your ad said to come in person, so here I am—in person.”

In person, and in very good form, he thought. “Then you’re applying for a position?” Frankly, she wasn’t what he’d expected. Rather, he’d expected someone like George Perkins, a doctor who was in the middle of a career burnout, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his life.

“Only part-time. I can give you my weekends, if you need me.”

“Weekends are good. But what are you? I mean, am I hiring a nurse, a respiratory therapist or what?”

“A physician. I’m a family practice doctor. Directed a hospital practice back in Indiana.”

“But you’re here now, asking me for work?” From director of a hospital practice to this? It didn’t make sense. “And you only want a couple days a week?”

“That’s all I have free. The rest of my time goes to recruiting medical personnel to come to Costa Rica.”

Now it was beginning to make some sense. She aided one of the country’s fastest growing industries in her real life and wanted to be a do-gooder in her off time. Well, if the do-gooder had the skills, he’d take them for those two days. The rest of her time didn’t matter to him in the least. “You can provide references?” he asked, not that he cared much to have a look at them, but the question seemed like the right one to ask.

“Whatever you need to see.”

“And you understand the conditions here? And the fact that I might not have enough money left over in my budget to pay you all the time—or ever?”

“It’s not about the money.”

Yep. She was definitely a do-gooder. “So what’s it about, Juliette?”

“I like patient care, and I don’t get to do that in my current position. I guess you can say I’m just trying to get back to where I started.”

Well, that was as good a reason as any. And, in spite of himself, he liked her. Liked her no-nonsense attitude. “So, if I hire you, when can you start?”

“I’m here now, and I don’t have to be back at my other job until Monday. I packed a bag, just in case I stayed, so I’m ready to work whenever you want me to start.”

“How about now? I have some beds that need changing and a nurse who’s doing that but who has other things to do. So, can you change a bed, Juliette?”

CHAPTER TWO

COULD SHE CHANGE a bed? Sad to say, she hadn’t made very many beds in her life. Back home, she and her dad had a housekeeper who did that for them. Twice a week, fresh sheets on every bed in the house, whether or not the bed had been slept on. At her dad’s insistence. Oh, and brand-new linens ordered from the finest catalogs once every few months.

That was her life then, all of it courtesy of a very generous and doting father, and she’d found nothing extraordinary about it as it had been everything she’d grown used to. Her dad had always told her it was his duty to spoil her, and she’d believed that. Now, today, living in San José, and in keeping with what she was accustomed to, she and Cynthia rented a flat that came with limited maid service. It cost them more to secure that particular amenity in their living quarters, but having someone else do the everyday chores was well worth the extra money. So, at thirty-three, Juliette was a novice at this, and pretty much every other domestic skill most people her age had long since acquired. But how difficult could it be to change a silly bed? She was smart, and capable. And if she could cure illnesses, she could surely slap a sheet onto the bed.

Easier said than done, Juliette discovered after she’d stripped the first bed, then laid a clean sheet on top of it. Tuck in the edges, fold under the corners, make sure there were no wrinkles—

She struggled through her mental procedural list, thought she was doing a fairly good job of it, all things considered. That was, until she noticed the sizable wrinkle that sprang up in the middle of the bed and crept all the way to the right side. How had that gotten there? she wondered as she tugged at the sheet from the opposite side, trying to smooth it out and, in effect, making the darned thing even worse.

“That could be uncomfortable, if you’re the one who has to sleep on it,” Damien commented from the end of the bed, where he was standing, arms folded across his chest, watching her struggle. “Causes creases in the skin if you lay on it too long.”

“I intend to straighten it out. Maybe remake the bed.” Actually, that was a lie. Her real intent was still to pat it down as much as she could, then move on to the next bed and hope the future occupant of this particular bed didn’t have a problem with wrinkles.

“You know you’ve been working on this first bed for ten minutes now? Alegria would have had all five beds changed in that amount of time, and been halfway through giving a patient a bed bath. So what’s holding you up? Because I have other things for you to do if you ever get done here.”

“This is taking a little longer because I’m used to fitted sheets,” she said defensively. Her response didn’t make any sense, not to her, probably not to Damien, but it was the best she could come up with, other than the truth, which was that she just didn’t do beds. How lame would that sound? Top-notch doctor felled by a simple bedsheet.

“Fitted sheets—nope, no such luxuries around here. In fact, our sheets are all donations from some of the locals. Used bedsheets, Juliette. The very best we have to offer. Rough-texture, well-worn hand-me-downs. But I’ll bet you’re used to a nice silk, or even an Egyptian cotton, maybe a fifteen-hundred thread count? You know, the very best the market has to offer.”

Who would have guessed Damien knew sheets? But, apparently, he did. And, amazingly, what he’d described was exactly what she had on her bed back home. Nice, soft, dreadfully expensive sheets covering a huge Victorian, dark cherrywood, four-poster antique of a bed. Her bed and sheets—luxuries she’d thought she couldn’t live without until she’d come to Costa Rica, where such luxuries were scarce, and only for those who could afford to have them imported. Which her father would do for her, gladly, if she asked him. Although she’d never ask, as that would build up his hopes that she was already getting tired of her life in Costa Rica and wanted her old life back. Back home. Same as before. Returning to her old job. Taking the position as her father’s chief administrative officer. Yes, that was the way his mind would run through it, all because she wanted better bedsheets.

OK, so she was a bit spoiled. She’d admit it if anyone—Damien—cared to ask but, since he wasn’t asking, she wasn’t telling. Not a blessed thing! “The sheet you’re describing would have cost a hundred and twenty times more than all the sheets in this ward put together. And that would be just one sheet.”

“Ah! A lady with a passion for sheets.” Damien arched mocking eyebrows. “I hope that same passion extends to your medicine.”

“You mean a lady doctor who’s being interrupted while she’s trying to do her job.” She regarded him for a moment. Well-muscled body. Three or four days’ growth of stubble on his face. Over-the-collar hair, which he’d pulled back into a ponytail, not too unlike her own, only much, much shorter. Really nice dimples when he smiled. Sexy dimples. Kissable dimples... Juliette shook her head to clear the train wreck going on inside and went back to assessing her overall opinion of Damien Caldwell. He was stunningly handsome, which he probably knew, and probably used it to his advantage. Insufferably rude. Intelligent. Good doctor.

“Does it bother you that I’m watching?” he asked.

“What bothers me is that you think you know all about me through my bedsheets. You’re judging me, aren’t you? You know, poor little rich girl. Never changed a bedsheet in her life. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” Judging her based on what she owned and not what she could do as a doctor.

“I wasn’t but, now that you brought it up, I could. Especially if you do own Egyptian cotton.”

“What I do or do not own has no bearing on the job here. And if you want to stand there speculating on something as unimportant as my sheets, be my guest. Speculate to your heart’s content. But keep it to yourself because I need to get these beds changed and I don’t need any distractions while I’m doing it.”

The ad she’d read about this job should have warned her that it came with a pompous boss because he was, indeed, pompous. Full of himself. Someone who probably took delight in the struggles of others. “And in the meantime I’m going to smooth this stupid wrinkle so I can get on to the next bed.”

“Well, if you ever get done here, I’ve got a patient coming into the clinic in a little while who has a possible case of gout in his left big toe. Could you take a look at him when he arrives?”

Gout. A painful inflammatory process, starting in the big toe in about half of all diagnosed cases. “I don’t suppose we can test for hyperuricemia, can we?” Hyperuricemia was a build-up of uric acid in the blood. With elevated levels, its presence could precipitate an onset of gout.

“Nope. Haven’t got the proper equipment to do much more than a simple CBC.” Complete blood count. “And we do those sparingly because they cost us money we don’t have.”

“Then how do we diagnose him, or anybody else, for that matter, if we don’t have the tests at our disposal?”

“The old-fashioned way. We apply common sense. In this particular case, you assess to see if it’s swollen or red. You ask him if it hurts, then find out how and when. Also, you take into account the fact that the patient’s a male, and we all know that men are more susceptible to gout than women. So that’s another indicator. And the pain exists only in his big toe. Add it all up and you’ve got...gout.” He took a big sweeping bow with his pronouncement, as if he was the lead character in a show on Broadway.

Juliette noticed his grand gesture, but chose to ignore it. “OK, it’s gout. I’ll probably agree with you once I’ve had a look at him. But, apart from that, what kind of drugs do you have on hand to treat him with? Nonsteroidal anti-inflammatories? Steroids? Colchicine? Maybe allopurinol?”

“Aspirin,” he stated flatly.

“Aspirin? That’s it?” Understaffed, understocked—what kind of place was this?

“We’re limited here to the basics and that’s pretty much how we have to conduct business every day. We start on the most simple level we can offer and hope that’s good enough.”

“What else do you have besides aspirin?”

“Antacids, penicillin, a lot of different topical ointments for bug bites, rashes and whatever else happens to a person’s skin. A couple of different kinds of injectable anesthetic agents. Nitroglycerine. Cough syrup. Some antimicrobials. Antimalarials—mostly quinidine. A very small supply of codeine. Oh, and a handful of various other drugs that we can coerce from an occasional outsider who wanders through. When you have time, take a look. We keep the drugs in the locked closet just outside the clinic door.”

“Are any of these expired drugs?”

“Hey, we take what we can get. So if it’s not too expired, we accept it and, believe me, we’re glad to get it. One person’s expired drug may be another person’s salvation.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

He shook his head. “I check with the pharmaceutical company before I use it. I mean, commercial expiration date is one thing, but some drugs have usable life left beyond their shelf life.”

“But you do turn away some drugs that are expired?”

“Of course I do. I’m not going to put a patient at risk with an expired drug that’s not usable.”

“So when you call these pharmaceutical companies, don’t they offer to stock you with new drugs?”

“All the time. But who the hell can afford that around here?” Damien shrugged. “Like I say, I check it to make sure it’s safe, then I use it if it is, and thank my lucky stars I have it to use.”

She hadn’t expected anything lavish, but she also hadn’t expected this much impoverishment. Of course, she knew little clinics like this operated all over the world, barely keeping their doors open, scraping and bowing to get whatever they had. But, in her other life, those were only stories, not a real situation as it applied to her. Now, though, she was in the heart of make-do medicine and nothing in her education or experience had taught her how to get along within its confines.

“How do you learn to get by the way you do?” she asked Damien. “With all these limitations and hardships?”

He studied her for a moment, then smiled. “Most of it you simply make up as you go. I was a general surgeon in Seattle. Worked in one of the largest hospitals in the city—a teaching hospital. So I had residents and medical students at my disposal, every piece of modern equipment known to the medical world, my OR was second to none.”

“And you gave it all up for this?” It was an admirable thing to do, but the question that plagued her about that was how anyone could go from so modern to so primitive? She’d done a little internet research on Damien before she’d come here, and he had a sterling reputation. He’d received all kinds of recognition for his achievements in surgery, and he’d won awards. So what made a person trade it for a handful of expired medicines and good guesses instead of proper tests and up-to-date drugs?

Maybe he had a father who ran the hospital, Juliette thought, as her own reasons for leaving her hospital practice crossed her mind.

“This isn’t so bad once you get used to it,” he said.

“But how do you get used to it? Especially when it’s so completely different from your medical background?”

“You look at the people you’re treating and understand that they need and deserve the best care you can give them, just the way that patients in any hospital anywhere else do. Only out here you’re the only one to do it. I think that’s the hardest part to get used to—the fact that there’s no one else to fall back on. No equipment, no tests or drugs, no excuses...

“It scared me when I first got here until I came to terms with how I was going to have to rely on myself and all my skills and knowledge. That didn’t make working in this hospital any easier, but it did put things into proper perspective.”

“You’ve gotten used to it, haven’t you?”

“Let’s just say that I’ve learned to work with the knowledge that the best I can hope for is what I have on hand at the moment, and the people here who want medical help are grateful for whatever I have to offer. They don’t take it for granted the way society in general has come to take much of its medical care for granted. So, once you understand that, you can get used to just about anything this type of practice will hand you.”

“Then you don’t really look forward, do you?”

“Can’t afford to. If I did, I’d probably get really disappointed, because anything forward from this point is the same as anything looking backward. Nothing changes and, in practical terms, it probably never will.”

“But you chose a jungle practice over what you had for some reason. Was it a conscious choice, or did you come here with expectation of one thing and get handed something else?”

“I got recruited to one of the leading hospitals by someone like you. They wanted my surgical skills and they came up with a pretty nice package to offer me. Since I’ve never stayed in any one position too long—”

“Why not?” she interrupted.

“Because there’s always something else out there. Something I haven’t tried yet. Something that might be better than what I’ve had.” Something to distract him from the fact that he’d never found what he wanted.

“In other words, you’re never contented?”

“In other words, I like to change up my life every now and then. Which is why I came here to Costa Rica. The country is recruiting doctors, the whole medical industry is competing in a worldwide arena and it sounded exciting. Probably like it did to you when they came calling on you. And I’m assuming they did come calling.”

“Something like that.” But her motive in coming here wasn’t because she was restless, or that she simply needed a change in pace. Her acceptance came because she needed to expand herself in new directions. Someplace far, far away from her father.

“Well, anyway—they did a hard recruit on me. Kept coming back for about a year, until I finally decided to give it a shot.”

“So you did work in one of the hospitals in San José?”

“For about a month. The timing was perfect. I’d just ended a personal relationship, which made me restless to go someplace, do something else. You know, running away. Which actually has been my habit for most of my adult life.” Damien grinned. “Anyway, they offered, eventually I accepted, and it took me about a week to figure out I hated it.”

“Why?”

“Because it was just like what I’d left. Brought back old memories of my last hospital, of how my former fiancée thought I should be more than a general surgeon, of how my future father-in-law said that being a general surgeon was so working class. Like there’s something wrong with being working class! I’d always loved working for a living but that one criticism so totally changed me, there were times I didn’t even recognize myself. Tried to be what my future family considered their equal. Put on airs I didn’t have a right to. Drowned myself in a lifestyle that I didn’t like, just to play the perfect part.” He shook his head. “I really needed something different after I got through all that. Got it all sorted—who I really was, what I really wanted to do with my life. So one day I saw an ad where a little jungle hospital needed a doctor...”

“Like the ad you placed?” He had so much baggage in his past, she wondered how he’d gotten past it to reach this point in his life. It took a lot of strength to get from where he used to be to where he was now. A strength she wished she had for herself.

Damien chuckled. “The same ad.”

“The exact same ad?” she asked him.

“One and the same. No pay, hard work, long hours. Nothing like I’d ever been involved with before. So, since I’d come to Costa Rica seeking a new adventure—hell, what’s more of an adventure than this?”

“Maybe a hospital with Egyptian cotton sheets?” Everyone had something to run away from, she supposed. He did. She did. It was lucky for both of them that their need to run away had coincided with a place for them to go. Whether running into each other would turn out to be a good thing remained to be seen.

“I’ve lowered my expectations these past few months. If I have any bedsheets, I’m happy.”

“But they didn’t train you in medical school to be concerned about the sheets.”

“And they didn’t train you in medical school how to be a recruiter. Which makes me wonder if it’s a good fit for you since you came knocking on my humble little door, wanting something different than what you already had. Ever think you made the wrong choice, that you belong back in your old life?”

OK, based on the little bit she knew about him, this was the Damien she’d expected. Not the one who almost garnered her admiration, but the one who annoyed her. “I made a very good choice coming to Costa Rica, regardless of what you think!” He was beginning to sound like her father. Bad choice, Juliette. Think about it. You’ll come to your senses. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“In my hospital, it is my business. Everything here is my business, including you. Because you working here affects everything else around you, and I have to protect the hospital’s interests.”

“What’s your point?” she snapped.

“That’s for you to figure out. Which, I’m sure, will happen in time.”

“There’s nothing to figure out. I accepted a position that brings first-rate medical professionals here. It’s an honorable job and I like it. It’s...important.”

“I’m not saying that it’s not. With the need to improve medical conditions expanding, I’m sure it’s becoming a very important position. But is it important enough to you? Or is patient care more important?”

“Why can’t both be important to me?”

“In my experience, I’ve found that we poor mortals don’t always do a good job of dividing ourselves.”

“That’s assuming I’m divided.”

“Well, I suppose only you know if that’s the case.” Damien stepped away from the bed. “Anyway, your patient will be here shortly, so I’d suggest you figure out some way to expedite those bedsheets so you can go be a real doctor.” With that, he spun around and started walking away.

“Are you always so rude?” she asked him while he was still within earshot. He was not only rude, he was also nosy, presumptuous and out of line.

Damien stopped and turned back to face her. “I do it rather well, don’t you think?”

* * *

Struggling with simple bedsheets, the way she was doing right now, was almost cute. It was painfully obvious, though, that this was a chore far beyond her capabilities. Or one she’d never before practiced. Which reminded Damien of days gone by, and one of the reasons he was here in the jungle, hiding away from civilization. Juliette was obviously a rich girl, probably out on her own in the world for the very first time and, once upon a time, he’d almost married a rich girl who probably still wasn’t out in the world.

Spoiled was the word that always came to mind when he thought about Nancy. It was a word he wanted to apply to Juliette as well, but the determination he could see in her stopped him short of going that far. The fact was, Nancy would have never set foot in his jungle clinic and Juliette was here, fighting to make a difference. Which didn’t exactly fit his perception of a rich girl.

OK, he had a bias. He admitted it. Hated that he’d just shown a bit of it to Juliette, by raising the doubt that she could cut it here. But it was well deserved, considering how he’d endured months of spoiled behavior from a woman he’d planned on marrying. Not that Nancy had ever played spoiled rich girl when it was just the two of them. No, she’d been sweet and attentive, convincing him she was the one to settle down for. Or in Juliette’s case, she was the one he needed here to help him.

But in the end, Nancy had told him he could never be enough for her. He couldn’t give her enough, as her demands had grown larger. More time. More attention. More of everything. He’d tried. He’d honestly tried. Bought her everything she wanted, which put him into deep debt. Cut back his hours at the hospital to spend more time with her, which almost cost him his job. No matter what he’d done, though, it hadn’t been adequate. So he’d tried harder, and always failed.

As far as Juliette working here—could that be enough for her? Or was he overthinking this thing? Truth was, he was wary. With Nancy, the vicious circle he’d got himself trapped in had played against his self-esteem and it hadn’t helped when her parents told him that he’d always be struggling, that he’d never have enough to give her what she deserved. Things. Lots and lots of material things. And social status. Even with his surgeon’s salary and his position at the hospital, and all the awards he’d won, they were right. At least, he’d thought so at the time.

Anyway, she’d moved out of his apartment and gone home, straight into Mommy’s and Daddy’s arms. As far as he knew, two years later, she was still there, dwelling quite happily as their spoiled-rotten daughter. Probably waiting for Daddy to fix her up with a man who fit the family image. A man who could give her the things Damien could not.

Which, admittedly, stung. He’d reeled from the breakup for weeks, wondering what he could have done differently. Wondering why he’d thought he was good enough for Nancy when, obviously, he was not. Wondering why he’d chosen Nancy in the first place.

So, was Juliette that spoiled? Would she spend a day or an entire weekend here, only to discover that it wasn’t enough for her? Would she walk away when she realized he couldn’t give her proper bedsheets, let alone a proper bed? Bottom line—he needed her here. Recruits didn’t come knocking every day when he advertised. And when they did show up, they usually turned right back around and left. In fact, other than George Perkins, she’d been the first doctor in his entire year here to show any real interest in staying. And he needed her skills. But could he count on her coming through, the way he’d counted on Nancy before she’d let him down?

He didn’t know, couldn’t tell. Juliette was obviously of upper means and, yes, that did have a huge bearing on the way he was feeling so uneasy about her motives or dedication. But there was also something about her that caused him to believe that her upper means hadn’t knocked something basic out of her. She was a hard worker and, so far, she hadn’t complained about the menial tasks. Time would tell what she was really made of, he supposed. For now, he was simply trying to keep an open mind. Because for some reason other than his need of her medical skills, a reason he couldn’t quite put his finger on, he wanted her to stay. Maybe for a change of scenery? Or to break the monotony? He honestly didn’t know.

“You’ve only got just the one exam room in the clinic?” Juliette asked him, once all the beds were made.

“The clinic was originally my living quarters. One room for everything. But I built a divider so there would be a waiting room on one side and an exam room on the other. That’s all there was room for.”

“Then where do you sleep?” she asked him.

“In a hut next door. Another one-room setup. Not as nice as the hospital, though.”

Juliette cringed. “I hate to ask, but where will I stay when I’m here?”

Ah, yes. The first test. No sheets, no bed—no room of her own. This is where it began, he supposed. Or ended. “Well, I’ve got two choices. You could stay here in the hospital, use an empty bed and hope we don’t get so busy you’ll have to give it up. We’ll partition it off for you to give you some privacy. And the perk there is that the hospital has running water, a shower, a bathroom. Or, if you don’t like that idea, you can shack with me. And the drawbacks there are—I don’t have running water, don’t have a bathroom or a shower. I have to come into the hospital for all that. Oh, and rumor has it that I might snore.” He cringed, waiting for what he believed would be the inevitable.

“So if I choose your hut, I’d be what? Sleeping in bed with you?”

“No, I’m a little more gentlemanly than that. I’d give you the bed, and I’d take the floor.” Said with some forced humor, since humor was all he had to offer at the moment.

“But in the same room?”

“Kind of like the student years, when you’d crash in the on-call room, no matter who was sleeping next to you. You did sleep in an on-call, didn’t you?” Somehow, he could picture Juliette as the type who would lock the on-call door behind her and keep the room all to herself.

“I did,” she said hesitantly. “When I had to.”

“So let me guess. You didn’t like it.”

“It was necessary, when I was pulling twenty-four-hour shifts. But did I like it? Not particularly.”

“How did I know that?” he asked, still waiting for the curtain to fall on this little act he was putting on. Who was he kidding here? Girls accustomed to silk sheets liked silk. And he sure as hell didn’t have anything silk.

“You didn’t know that,” she said, expelling an exasperated sigh. “You’re just into making snap judgments about me. All of them negative. Do you ever see anything positive in any situation, Damien?”

Maybe she was right. Maybe he was so used to looking for the negative that he wouldn’t recognize a ray of something positive if it walked right up and slapped him in the face. Damn, he didn’t mean to be like that. But something about Juliette poked at him. It was almost like he was trying to push her away. From what? He had no clue. “Look, I’ll try to be more positive, OK?”

“Don’t put yourself out on my account. I’m a big girl. I can take it.” She squared herself up to her full five-foot-six frame and stared him down. “And I think I’ll just stay in the hospital, all things considered.” Narrowing her eyes, she went on, “I hate snoring. And, just for the record, Damien, you’re not going to scare me off. I came here so I could stay better in touch with patient care, and I don’t intend to back out of it, no matter how hard you’re trying to push me away.”

“I’m not trying to push you away,” he defended.

“Sure you are. Don’t know why, don’t particularly care. Just let me do my job here, and we’ll get along. OK?”

Well, she certainly was driven. He liked that. Liked it a lot. “Look, if you want privacy, you can have my hut on the weekends you’re here, and I’ll stay in the hospital.”

“The weekends I’m here will be every weekend.”

“You’re sure of that? Because it’s a long, tough drive to get here, and I don’t have anything to make your life, or your work, easier when you’re here.”

“I’m adaptable, Damien. I’ll make do.”

He wanted to trust that she would. “Look, we can finish talking about your housing options later on, over dinner. But, right now, Señor Mendez is waiting in the clinic. Remember, gout? Oh, and I’m going to go make a house call. I have a patient who’s a week over her due date, and she’s getting pretty anxious to have her baby.”

“Borrow my car. Take her for a ride on that bumpy road into town. That should induce something.”

So she had a sense of humor. Even though she made her offer with a straight face, Damien laughed. “Might work better if I borrow a cart and a donkey from one of the locals.”

“They actually have donkey carts here?” she asked in full amazement.

“It’s called traveling in style. A modern convenience if the cart is fairly new and the donkey is reasonably young.” He stopped himself short of ridiculing the kind of car she probably had back home. A sleek sports model, most likely. Shiny and silver. Convertible. Her hair let down from its ponytail and blowing in the breeze. Nope, he had to stop this. It was going too far, almost daydreaming about her the way he was. “Anyway, I’ll probably be back before you’re done with Señor Mendez’s toe.”

“Will Alegria be able to unlock the medicine cabinet for me?”

Before he answered, he fished through the pocket of his khaki cargo shorts until he found a key. “Here, take mine. Just make sure you give it back before you leave here—when? Sunday night? Monday morning?”

“Haven’t decided yet. I guess it will depend on the workload.”

He dropped the key into her outstretched hand. “Well, next time I get to Cima de la Montaña I’ll have a key made for you.” Provided she lasted that long. In a lot of ways, he hoped she did because, in spite of himself, and especially in spite of all his doubts, he liked her.

CHAPTER THREE

“HOW WAS YOUR gout patient?” Damien asked Juliette on his way back into the hospital. She was coming out of the clinic, looking somewhat perplexed. “It was gout, wasn’t it?”

“It was gout,” Juliette confirmed. “I was concerned about his age, though. He seems too young to be afflicted with it.”

“I thought so, too, but the people here live hard lives. They age faster than normal.”

“And he’s had a complete physical?”

“Before he presented with gout symptoms?” Damien shook his head. “Getting people around here to submit to physicals when they don’t have any particular symptoms isn’t easy, but about six months ago Señor Mendez did come in. Nothing out of the ordinary turned up.”

“Well, I gave him aspirin like you told me to. But there was something else going on. I think Señor Mendez was high on some kind of drug. At least, that’s the way he seemed. Slurred speech, slow movements. Do you know if he indulges?”

Damien laughed. “A lot of the locals indulge. I’m surprised Señor Mendez would, though. He’s pretty straight. Doesn’t drink that I know of. Doesn’t do drugs—at least, I didn’t think he did. And, even if he did, it surprises me that he would go out in public that way because he’s a very polite, private, gentle man who spends every last penny he has to support his family. But I guess you never know what goes on behind closed doors, do you?”

“Is it really that common around here?”

“Ganja—marijuana—is cheap, and easily available.”

“So what do you do if they come in here stoned?”

“Treat them for what they came in for, and ignore the rest. I’m just the doctor here. I don’t get involved in anything else.”

“Then you won’t report him?”

“If he’s not bothering me, there’s no reason to. My personal policy is, if someone needs help they get help, in spite of all the external factors that might otherwise cause problems. In other words, if he’s stoned, you treat him, anyway. The rest of it’s none of my business.”

“That’s decent of you.”

“I aim to be decent to my patients. They’ve got enough hardships to face in their daily lives without me adding to them.”

“But do you condone it?”

“Nope. I’m a law-abiding citizen wherever I go, and the Costa Rican law makes ganja illegal, so I respect that.”

“Then you, personally, don’t indulge?”

“Never have, never will. Don’t smoke, either. Drink only in moderation. Work out regularly. Eat a balanced diet. You know, all good things for my body.” A body that seemed to be aging too quickly since he’d come to Costa Rica. Of course, that was about the hard work here. So were the new creases in his face and the pair of glasses he was now forced to wear any time he wanted to read. Most people wouldn’t consider him old, as he overtook his thirty-sixth birthday in a few weeks. But some days he just felt old—older than dirt. “Keeps me in good working condition.”

“Well, I just wanted to let you know the condition of your patient.”

“And I appreciate that. But I’m not really concerned about it. At least, not right now.”

“When does that point change for you, Damien?”

“When I see someone’s drug use as a potential danger to themselves or others. That’s when I’ll step in. But again, only as a doctor.”

“We always had to note it in our chart at the hospital,” she said. “And if it was too bad, we were supposed to alert Security.”

“Did you ever?”

“Once. Then I had regrets, because he really wasn’t that bad. But I was new, still blindly loyal to hospital policy, probably more so than to the patient. Of course, that changed pretty quickly, the more involved I became with my patients.”

“So you were a true, big hospital loyalist?”

“Still am. But I’m more practical about it now. But you’ve got to understand that I was raised by a true hospital loyalist—the chief of staff, and those were the kinds of concerns he always brought home with him. What was best for the hospital was always his main concern, right after the kind of patient care we were giving.”

“So your daddy’s a big shot in a big hospital?” Given her rich girl background, that didn’t surprise him.

“That’s one way of putting it, I suppose. But to me he was always just my dad. A man who went to work, worked long, hard hours and came home to tuck me in every night. It never occurred to me that he was so important in terms of an entire medical community until I was probably ten or eleven and he took me to work with him to see what he did during the day.”

“Did it impress you?”

“Not so much then. I think I was more impressed by all the desserts in the cafeteria than I was by my father’s position in the hospital. Of course, the older I got the more I realized just what a big deal he was.”

“But you have no aspirations for something like that for yourself?”

“I had my shot at it. Dad offered me a promotion into administration a couple of months ago.”

“So let me guess. You chose Costa Rica instead. Was it to run away from Daddy?” Probably her first real act of rebellion in a very laid-out life.

“You say that like it was a derogatory thing to do.”

“Was it?” he asked her.

Juliette shook her head. “I like to think of Costa Rica as something necessary in my career development. In my personal development, as well. Also, I didn’t feel as though I’d earned the job. I think promoting me was simply my dad’s way of ensuring that I’d stay around for a while. Or forever, if he had his way about it. I mean, my dad always wins. No matter what it is, he finds a way to win, and I was tired of always having my ideas and hopes and desires tossed into that lottery.”

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