A family for the bachelor doc?

Burns specialist Dr. Matthew McGrory is finally living the bachelor life after years of responsibility raising his siblings alone. But he can’t ignore the pull he feels toward beautiful Quinn Grady, foster mom to his favorite young patient.

Having learned the hard way that you can’t rely on other people, Quinn is uber-protective of little Simon, and her heart. But as Matthew’s hero status grows in the eyes of her young charge, she just might find he’s the hero she’s dreamed of, too...

Paddington Children’s Hospital

Caring for children—and captivating hearts!

The doctors and nurses of Paddington Children’s Hospital are renowned for their expert care of their young patients, no matter the cost. And now, facing both a heart-wrenching emergency and a dramatic fight to save their hospital, the stakes are higher than ever!

Devoted to their jobs, these talented professionals are about to discover that saving lives can often mean risking your heart...

Available now in the thrilling Paddington Children’s Hospital miniseries:

Their One Night Baby by Carol Marinelli

Forbidden to the Playboy Surgeon by Fiona Lowe

Mommy, Nurse...Duchess? by Kate Hardy

Falling for the Foster Mom by Karin Baine

And coming soon...

Healing the Sheikh’s Heart by Annie O’Neil

A Life-Saving Reunion by Alison Roberts

Dear Reader,

This book has been such a rollercoaster to write—I really hope you enjoy reading my slice of life at Paddington Children’s Hospital.

As excited as I was about taking part in my first continuity series, the prospect of writing along with such fabulous established authors was daunting for a newbie, to say the least! I shouldn’t have worried. These ladies had such fabulous ideas for the series, and are so much better organised than I am, it made the process easier.

A book set in London was also a great excuse for a research trip—and it just so happened to coincide with my twentieth wedding anniversary! I had a lovely day at the zoo with my hubby, following in Quinn, Matt and little Simon’s footsteps. Albeit in the rain...

Maybe for our silver anniversary I’ll plan a research trip somewhere a bit more exotic. Surely they have doctors on Mediterranean cruises too...

Happy reading!

Karin xx

Falling For The Foster Mum

Karin Baine

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KARIN BAINE lives in Northern Ireland with her husband, two sons, and her out-of-control notebook collection. Her mother’s and her grandmother’s vast collections of books inspired her love of reading and her dream of becoming a Mills & Boon author. Now she can tell people she has a proper job! You can follow Karin on Twitter, @karinbaine1, or visit her website for the latest news—karinbaine.com.

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Books by Karin Baine

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

French Fling to Forever

A Kiss to Change Her Life

The Doctor’s Forbidden Fling

The Courage to Love Her Army Doc

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

This one’s for Jennie, Stephen and Samantha, my London travelling companions/supervisors, because we all know I can’t be trusted out on my own!

Along with John, You’ve always been so supportive of my writing and it’s much appreciated. xx

Thanks to Catherine, Abbi and Chellie, who’ve helped me so much with my research.

Praise for Karin Baine

“The moment I picked up Karin Baine’s debut medical romance I knew I would not be disappointed with her work. Poetic and descriptive writing, engaging dialogue, thoroughly created characters and a tightly woven plot propels French Fling to Forever into the must-read, highly recommended level.”

—Contemporary Romance Reviews

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Booklist

Dedication

Praise

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

QUINN GRADY WAS officially the worst mother in the world. Barely a week into the job and her charge was already lying in the hospital.

Simon mightn’t be her real son but that made her role as his foster mum even more important. As someone who’d been passed from pillar to post in the care system herself, it meant everything to her to provide a safe home for him. Yet here she was, sitting on her own in the bright corridors of the Paddington Children’s Hospital, nerves shredded, waiting for news on his condition.

She’d done everything by the parenting handbook, even when life had thrown her that ‘I’m not ready to be a dad’ curveball from Darryl right before Simon had come into her life. Her focus had remained on his welfare regardless of her own heartbreak that her partner had gone back on his word that he was going into this with her. The sleepless nights she’d spent with her mind running through every possible scenario she might encounter as someone’s guardian hadn’t prepared her for this.

A fire at the school.

As she’d waved a tearful goodbye this morning and watched Simon walk away in his smart, new uniform she’d half expected a phone call. He’d looked so small, so lost, she’d almost been waiting for the school to call and ask her to pick him up, to come and hug him and tell him everything was going to be all right.

Not this. A fire was totally beyond her control. She couldn’t have prevented it and she couldn’t fix it. Apparently all she could do was fill in endless forms and she hadn’t even been able to do that until she’d contacted the local fostering authority to notify them about what had happened. Watching the frantic staff deal with the influx of injured schoolchildren, she’d never felt so helpless.

She knew Simon was badly hurt but she hadn’t been able to see him yet until they stabilised him. He could have life-changing injuries. Or worse. What if he didn’t make it? Her stomach lurched, terror gripping her insides at the thought of his suffering. This was supposed to have been a new start for both of them, to wipe out the past and build a better future. Now all she wanted was to see him and know he was okay.

She fidgeted in the hard plastic chair doing her best not to accost any of the nurses running from department to department. Perhaps if she was a proper mum she’d feel more entitled to demand constant information on his condition.

‘Are you Simon’s mother?’

A vision in green scrubs appeared beside her. His lovely Irish lilt was the comfort blanket she needed at this moment in time.

‘No. Yes.’ She didn’t know the appropriate response for this kind of situation.

As a pair of intense, sea-green eyes stared at her, waiting for an answer, she realised her temporary status didn’t matter. ‘I’m his foster mother.’

It was enough to soften the doctor’s features and he hunched down beside her chair.

‘I’m Matthew McGrory, a burns specialist. I’ve been brought over to assess Simon’s condition.’

Quinn held her breath. Good news or bad?

She searched his face for a sign but apart from noting how handsome he was up close she discovered nothing.

‘How is he?’

Good?

Bad?

‘Would you like to come through and see for yourself?’ The doctor’s mouth tilted into a smile.

That had to be positive, right?

‘Yes. Thank you.’ She got to her feet though her legs weren’t as steady as she needed them to be. Nonetheless she hurried down the corridor, powering hard to keep up with the great strides of a man who had to be at least six foot.

He stopped just outside the door of the Paediatric Intensive Care Unit, the last barrier between her and Simon, but an ominous one. Only the most poorly children would be on the other side and he was one of them. Not for the first time she wished she had someone to go through this with her.

‘Before we go in, I want you to be prepared. Simon has suffered severe burns along with some smoke inhalation. It’s not a pretty sight but everything we’re doing is to minimise long-term damage. Okay? Ready?’

She nodded, feigning bravery and nowhere near ready. Whatever the injuries, they would affect her and Simon for a long time but they were in this together.

‘He needs me,’ she said, her voice a mere whisper as she tried to pull herself together. She wondered if clinging to the hunky doctor’s arm for support was an option but he was already opening the door and stepping into the ward before she could make a grab for him.

They passed several cubicles but she couldn’t make out any of the faces as the small bodies were dwarfed by monster machinery aiding their recovery.

‘Oh, Simon!’ Her hand flew to her mouth to cover the gasp as she was led to the last bed on the row. She wouldn’t have recognised him if not for the glimpse of curly hair against the pillow.

The face of the little boy she’d left at the school gates only hours ago was now virtually obscured by the tubes and wires going in and out of his tiny form keeping him alive. His pale torso was a contrast to the mottled black and red angry skin of his right arm stretched out at his side. Lying there, helpless, he looked even younger than his meagre five years.

Quinn’s knees began to buckle at the enormity of the situation and the tears she’d been desperately trying to keep at bay finally burst through the dam.

Strong hands seemed to come from nowhere to catch her before she fell to the floor in a crumpled heap of guilt and manoeuvred her into a chair.

‘I know it’s a lot to take in but he’s honestly in the best place. Simon has severe burns to the face and arm and we have him intubated to help him breathe after the smoke inhalation. Once the swelling has gone down and we’re happy there’s no damage to his eyes, we’ll move him to the burns unit for further treatment.’

She blinked through her tears to focus on the man kneeling before her.

‘Is he going to be okay?’ That was all she needed to know.

‘The next forty-eight hours will be crucial in assessing the full extent of his burns. He’ll need surgery to keep the wounds clean and prevent any infection and there’s a good chance he’ll need skin grafts in the future. I won’t deny it’ll be a long process, but that’s why I’m here. I’m a reconstructive surgeon too and I will do my very best to limit and repair any permanent scarring. The road to recovery is going to be tough but we’re in this together.’ This virtual stranger reached out and gave her hand a squeeze to reassure her but the electric touch jolted her back into reality.

She was a mum now and following in the footsteps of her own amazing adoptive mum, who’d moved heaven and earth to do what was best for her. It was time for her to step up to the plate now too.

‘I’ll do whatever it takes. Simon deserves the best.’ And something told her that the best was surgeon Matthew McGrory.

CHAPTER ONE

Two months later

QUINN WISHED THEY did an easy-to-read, step-by-step guide for anxious foster mums going through these operations too. It was difficult to know what to do for the best when Simon resisted all attempts to comfort him pre-op.

He turned his face away when she produced the well-worn kids’ book the hospital had provided to explain the surgical process.

She sighed and closed the book.

‘I suppose you know this off by heart now.’ Not that it made this any easier. After the countless hours he’d spent on the operating table they both knew what they were in for—pain, tears and a huge dollop of guilt on her part.

She hadn’t caused the fire or his injuries but neither had she been able to save him from this suffering. Given the choice she’d have swapped places with the mite and offered herself up for this seemingly endless torture rather than watch him go through it.

‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked the back of his head, wishing there was something she could do other than stand here feeling inadequate.

The pillow rustled as he shook his head and she had to suppress the urge to try and swamp him into a big hug the way her mother always had when she’d been having a hard time. Simon didn’t like to be hugged. In fact, he resisted any attempt to comfort him. That should’ve been his real mother’s job but then apparently she’d never shown affection for anything other than her next fix. His too-young, too-addicted parents were out of the picture, their neglect so severe the courts had stripped them of any rights.

Quinn and Simon had barely got to know each other before the fire had happened so she couldn’t tell if his withdrawal was a symptom of his recent trauma or the usual reaction of a foster child afraid to get attached to his latest care giver. She wasn’t his parent, nor one of the efficient medical staff, confident in what they were doing. For all she knew he’d already figured out she was out of her depth and simply didn’t want to endure her feeble overtures. Maybe he just didn’t like her. Whatever was causing the chasm between them it was vital she closed it, and fast.

As if on cue, their favourite surgeon stepped into the room. ‘Back again? I’m sure you two are sick of the sight of me.’

That velvety Irish accent immediately caught her attention. She frowned as goose bumps popped up across her skin. At the age of thirty-two she should really have better self-control over an ill-conceived crush on her foster son’s doctor.

‘Hi, Matt.’ An also enchanted Simon sat upright in bed.

It was amazing how much they both seemed to look forward to these appointments and hate them at the same time. Although the skin grafts were a vital part of recovery, they were traumatic and led to more night terrors once they returned home as Simon relived the events of the fire in his sleep. He’d been one of the most seriously burned children, having been trapped in his classroom by falling debris. Although the emergency services had thankfully rescued him, no one had been able to save him from the memories or the residual pain.

Matt, as he’d insisted they call him, was the one constant during this whole nightmare. The one person Simon seemed to believe when he said things would work out. Probably because he had more confidence in himself and his abilities than she did in herself, when every dressing change made her feel like a failure.

The poor child’s face was still scarred, even after the so-called revolutionary treatment, and his arm was a patchwork quilt of pieced together skin. Technically his injuries had occurred in school but that didn’t stop her beating herself up that it had happened on her watch. Especially when the fragile bond they’d had in those early days had disintegrated in the aftermath of the fire. Unlike the one he’d forged with the handsome surgeon.

Matt moved to the opposite side of the bed from Quinn and pulled out some sort of plastic slide from his pocket. ‘I’ve got a new one for you, Simon. The disappearing coin trick!’ he said with flare, plucking a ten pence piece from the air.

‘Cool!’

Of course it was. Magic was a long way away from the realities of life with second-and third-degree burns. Fun time with Matt before surgery offered an escape whilst she was always going to be the authority figure telling him not to scratch and slathering cream over him when he just wanted to be left alone.

Somehow Simon was able to separate his friend who performed magic tricks from the surgeon who performed these painful procedures, whereas she was the one he associated with his pain. It was frustrating, especially seeing him so engaged when she’d spent all day trying to coax a few words from him.

‘I need you to place the coin in here.’ He gave Simon the coin and pulled out a tray with a hole cut out of the centre from the plastic slide.

Concentration was etched on his face as he followed instructions and once Quinn set aside her petty jealousy she appreciated the distraction from the impending surgery. After all, that’s what she wanted for him—to be the same as any other inquisitive five-year-old, fascinated by the world around him. Not hiding away, fearful of the unknown, the way he was at home.

‘Okay, so we push it back in here—’ he slid the tray back inside the case ‘—and this is the important bit. We need a magic word.’

‘Smelly pants!’ Simon had the mischievous twinkle of a child who knew he could get away with being naughty on this occasion.

‘I was thinking along the more traditional abracadabra line but I guess that works too.’ Matt exchanged a grin across the bed with her. It was a brief moment which made her forget the whole parent/doctor divide and react as any other woman who’d had a good-looking man smile at her.

That jittery, girlish excitement took her by surprise as he made eye contact with her and sent her heart rate sky high. Since Darryl left her she hadn’t given any thought to the opposite sex. At least not in any ‘You’re hot and I want you’ way. More of a ‘You’re a man and I can’t trust you’ association. She wasn’t prepared to give away any more of herself—of her time or her heart—to anyone who wouldn’t appreciate the gift. All of her time and energy these days was directed into the fostering process, trying to make up for the lack of two parents in Simon’s life. Harbouring any form of romantic ideas was self-indulgent and, most likely, self-destructive.

She put this sudden attraction down to the lack of adult interaction. Since leaving her teaching post to tutor from home and raise Simon, apart from the drive-by parents of her students, and her elderly neighbour, Mrs Johns, the medical staff were the only grown-ups she got to talk to. Very few of them were men, and even fewer had cheekbones hand-carved by the gods. It was no wonder she’d overreacted to a little male attention. The attraction had been there since day one and she’d fought it with good reason when her last romantic interlude had crashed her world around her. Everything she’d believed in her partner had turned out to be a lie, making it difficult for her to trust a word anyone told her any more. She kept everyone at a distance now, but Matt was such a key figure in their days that he was nigh on impossible to ignore. As the weeks had gone on she found herself getting into more arguments with him, forcing him to take the brunt of her fears for Simon and the annoyance she should have directed at herself.

Matt waved his hand over the simple piece of plastic which had transformed Simon’s body language in mere seconds.

‘Smelly pants!’ he shouted, echoed by his tiny assistant.

The magician-cum-surgeon frowned at her. Which apparently was equally as stimulating as a smile.

‘It’ll only work if we all say the magic words together. Let’s try this again.’

Quinn rolled her eyes but she’d go along with anything to take Simon’s mind off what was coming next.

‘Smelly pants!’ they all chorused as Matt pulled out the now empty tray.

‘Wow! How did you do that?’ Simon inspected the magic chamber, suitably impressed by the trick.

‘Magic.’ Matt gave her a secret wink and started her tachycardia again.

Didn’t he have theatre prep or intensive hand-scrubbing to do rather than showing off here and disturbing people’s already delicate equilibrium?

‘I wish I could make my scars disappear like that.’ Simon’s sudden sad eyes and lapse back into melancholy made Quinn’s heart ache for him.

‘I’m working on it, kiddo. That’s why all of these operations are necessary even though they suck big-time. It might take a few waves of my magic wand but I’ll do my very best to make them disappear.’

Quinn folded her arms, binding her temper inside her chest. He might mean well but he shouldn’t be giving the child false hope. Simon’s body was a chequered, vivid mess of dead and new flesh. He was never going to have blemish-free skin again, regardless of the super-confident surgeon’s skills, and she was the one who’d have to pick up the pieces when the promises came to nothing. Again.

‘You said that the last time.’ Not even Simon was convinced, lying back on the bed, distraction over.

‘I also said it would take time. Good things come to those who wait, right?’ It was a mantra he’d used since day one but he clearly wasn’t au fait with the limited patience of five-year-olds. Unlike Quinn, who’d had a crash course in tantrums and tears while waiting for the miraculous recovery to happen before her very eyes. Her patience had been stretched to the limit too.

‘Right,’ Simon echoed without any conviction.

‘I’ll tell you what, once you’re back from theatre and wide awake, I’ll come back and show you how to do a few tricks of your own. Deal?’

Quinn couldn’t tell if it was bravado or ego preventing the doctor from admitting defeat as he stood with his hand held out to make the bargain. Either way, she didn’t think it was healthy for him to get close to Simon only to let him down. He’d had enough of that from his birth parents, who’d given up any rights to him in favour of drugs, foster parents, who’d started the adoption process then abandoned him when they’d fallen pregnant themselves, and her, who’d sent him to get burned up in school. It might have failed her once but that protective streak was back with a vengeance.

‘We couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m sure you have other patients to see and we’ve already taken up so much of your time.’ She knew these extra little visits weren’t necessary. They had highly skilled nurses and play specialists to make these transitions easier for the children. These informal chats and games made her feel singled out. As if he was trying to suss out her capability to look after Simon outside of the hospital. The nurses had noticed too, remarking how much extra time he’d devoted to Simon’s recovery and she didn’t appreciate it as much as they probably thought she should. He wasn’t going to sneak his way into her affections the way Darryl had, then use her fostering against her; she’d learned that lesson the hard way. She could do this. Alone.

‘Not at all. I’m always willing to pass on my secrets to a budding apprentice.’ He held out his hand again and Simon shook it with his good arm, bypassing her concerns.

‘I just mean perhaps you should be concentrating on the surgery rather than performing for us.’ The barb was enough to furrow that brow again but he had a knack for getting her back up. Handsome or not, she wouldn’t let him cause Simon any more pain than necessary.

The wounded look in his usually sparkling green eyes instantly made her regret being such a cow to him when he’d been nothing but kind to Simon since the accident. His smile was quickly back in place but it no longer reached anywhere past his mouth.

‘It’s no problem. I can do both. I’ll see you soon, kiddo.’ He ruffled Simon’s hair and turned to leave. ‘Can I have a word outside, Ms Grady?’

As he brushed past her, close enough to whisper into her ear, Quinn’s whole body shivered with awareness. A combination of nerves and physical attraction. Neither of which she had control over any longer.

‘Sure,’ she said although she suspected he wasn’t giving her a choice; she felt as though she was being called into the headmaster’s office for misbehaving. A very hot headmaster who wasn’t particularly happy with her. Unsurprising, really, when she’d basically just insulted him on a professional level.

She promised Simon she’d be back soon and took a deep breath before she followed Matt out the door.

‘I know you’re having a tough time at the moment but I’d really appreciate it if you stopped questioning my dedication to my job in front of my patient.’

It was the first time Quinn had seen him riled in all of these weeks. He was always so calm in the face of her occasional hysteria, so unflappable through every hurdle of Simon’s treatment. Although it was unsettling to see the change in him, that intense passion, albeit for his work, sent tingles winding through her body until her toes curled, knowing she was the one who’d brought it to the fore. She found herself wondering how deep his passions lay and how else they might manifest...

He cleared his throat and reminded her she was supposed to speak, to argue back. She questioned what he was doing, he pulled her up on it and claimed rank when it came to Simon’s health care—that was the way this went. It kept her from going completely round the bend imagining the worst that could happen when she’d be the one left dealing with the consequences on her own. She was supposed to be the overprotective mother voicing her concerns that everything being done was in her son’s best interests, just as he was the one to insist he knew what he was doing. Fantasising about Matt in any other capacity, or his emotions getting the better of him, definitely wasn’t in their well-rehearsed script.

‘Yeah...well...I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give Simon false hope that everything will go back to normal. We’ve both had enough of people letting us down.’ Not that she knew what normal was, but although he deserved a break, they had to be realistic too.

‘I’m not in the habit of lying to my patients...’

‘No? What about this miracle spray-on skin which was supposed to fast-track his recovery? It’s been two months and his burns are still very much visible. I should’ve known it was too good to be true when you would only use it to treat his facial burns and not the ones on his arm. I mean, if it was such a wonder cure it would make sense to use it everywhere and not make him go through these skin grafts anyway.’ She was aware her voice had gone up a few decibels and yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself when something good she’d believed was going to happen hadn’t. This time it wasn’t only her hopes that were being dashed.

Matt simply sighed when Quinn would’ve understood if he’d thrown his hands up and walked away. Deep down she knew he’d done his best, and yet, they were still here going through the same painful process.

‘I can only reiterate what I told you at the start. It will take time. Perhaps the progress we have made isn’t as noticeable to you because you see him every day, but the scars are beginning to fade. It’s as much as we can hope for at this stage. As I explained, this is a new treatment, not readily available everywhere in the UK, and funding is hard to come by. The burns on Simon’s arm are full thickness, not suitable for the trial, otherwise I’d have fought tooth and nail to make it happen. But he’s young—his skin will heal quicker than yours or mine. Besides, I’m good at what I do.’ There wasn’t any obvious arrogance in his words or stance. It was simply a statement of fact. Which did nothing to pull her mind out of the gutter.

‘So you keep telling me,’ she muttered under her breath. However, despite his conscientious efforts, Simon no longer resembled the child she’d been charged with minding, either physically or mentally.

‘I meant what I said. I’m not in the habit of lying to sick kids, or their beautiful mothers.’ His forehead smoothed out as he stopped being cross with her.

The renewed smile combined with the reassuring touch of his hands on her shoulders sent those shivers back Irish dancing over her skin. She was too busy squealing inside at the compliment to correct him again about being Simon’s foster mother.

Unfortunately, in her experience she couldn’t always take people’s word as truth. It wasn’t that long ago Darryl had sworn he was in this thing with her.

‘I hope not,’ she said, the cold chill moving to flatten the first fizz of ardour she’d felt since her ex abandoned her and the future they’d planned together.

Simon’s fate was entirely in this man’s hands. Matt’s skills on the operating table would determine his long-term appearance and probably his self-esteem along with it. It was too much to expect her to put her faith entirely in the word of a virtual stranger. Especially when the men closest to her had littered her life with broken promises and dreams.

* * *

Quinn Grady was a grade-A pain in the backside. In the most understandable way. Matt had seen his fair share of anxious parents over the years. His line of work brought people to him in their most fragile, vulnerable state and it was only natural that emotions ran high, but she’d spent most of the last couple of months questioning his every decision, seemingly doubting his ability to get Simon through the other side of his injuries. It was exhausting for all of those concerned. Normally he outlined his treatment plan and got on with it but somehow this case had drifted off course.

The spray-on skin was a relatively new treatment. Instead of these painful skin grafts, a small sample of healthy skin was removed from the patient and placed in a processing unit where it reproduced in a special suspension solution which was then sprayed over the damaged area where it continued to grow and multiply. There was no risk of the patient’s body rejecting it because it was from the patient’s own cells. The regenerative nature of this process meant the wounds healed rapidly in comparison to traditional techniques, such as the one he was performing now. If it wasn’t for the extensive burns on Simon’s arm, where he’d defended himself from the flames, he wouldn’t have to go through the skin grafts or worry about scarring because the spray-on skin would stretch with him as he grew.

He’d expected Quinn to be wary; he’d had to convince her as well as the board that this was worth trialling, but the constant clashing had tested him. Naturally, she wanted instant results, for the burns to fade and heal overnight, but that wasn’t how it worked. Almost every day she demanded to know ‘Why?’ and he couldn’t always give her the answer she wanted. He knew the results were favourable compared to some he’d seen, and indeed, Simon’s facial burns were exceptionally better healed than those on his arm but he was still disfigured. For now. Until the boy resembled his pre-fire self, Matt was going to take the flak, and so far he’d been happy to do so.

He knew he’d probably become too involved with Simon’s case, more so than the other children he’d seen at Paddington’s as a result of the fire at Westbourne Grove Primary School. Perhaps it was because his burns had been so extensive, or perhaps the reason was closer to home. The single foster mum reminded him a lot of himself and the hand he’d been dealt once upon a time.

Although he assumed she’d voluntarily agreed to take on the responsibility for other people’s children. His role as a stand-in father had been thrust upon him when his dad had died and left him in charge of his younger siblings.

Matt recognised the fear in Quinn’s brilliant blue eyes, even when she was giving him grief. He’d spent over a decade fretting about getting his sisters through their childhood in one piece with much the same haunted expression staring back at him in the mirror.

It was only now that Bridget, the youngest of the brood, had gone off to university he was able to relax a little. Of course, that didn’t mean he wasn’t still handling relationship woes or doling out crisis loans, but at least he could do most of his parenting over the phone these days, unless they came to visit him in London.

It meant he had his life back, that he’d been able to leave Dublin and take this temporary contract. When his time was up here he would have no reason to feel guilty about moving on to somewhere shiny and new and far from Ireland.

Quinn wouldn’t have that luxury for a long time with Simon being so young. As his foster mother, she was probably under even more pressure to get him through his injuries, and naturally, that had extended to his surgeon. If fostering authorities were anything like social services to deal with, she’d have to jump through hoops to prove her suitability as a parent.

Life was tough enough as a substitute parent without the added trauma of the fire for her and Simon. Especially when she appeared to be doing this on her own. He hadn’t spotted a wedding ring, and to his knowledge there hadn’t been any other visitors during Simon’s hospitalisation. When the cancer had claimed his father, Matt had been in much the same boat and being a sounding board for Quinn’s frustrations was the least he could do to help. Unless her comments were in danger of unnecessarily upsetting Simon.

A boy needed a strong mother as much as a father. Matt’s had been absent since shortly after Bridget’s birth, when she’d suddenly decided family life wasn’t for her. With his father passing away only a few years later, there had been no one left for them to turn to. For him to turn to. He’d had to manage the budget, the bills, the parent/teacher meetings and the numerous trips to A&E which were part and parcel of life with a brood of rambunctious kids, all on his own. Most of the time it had felt as though the world was against him having a life of his own.

He knew the struggle, the loneliness and the all-encompassing fear of screwing up and he would’ve gone out of his way to help anyone in a similar situation. At least, that’s how he justified his interest. It wasn’t entirely down to the fact he enjoyed seeing her, or the sparks created every time they had one of their ‘discussions.’ Attraction to single mothers wasn’t something he intended to act upon and certainly not with the parent of one of his patients.

He’d only just gained his freedom from one young family and he wasn’t ready, willing or able to do it again. As it was, he would be in young Simon’s life for a long time to come. Perhaps even longer than Quinn. There were always going to be more surgeries as the child grew and his skin stretched. Treatments for scar tissue often took months to be effective and new scar contractures, where the skin tightened and restricted movement, could appear a long way down the line in young patients who were still growing.

‘He’s out.’ The anaesthetist gave the go-ahead for the team to begin.

Time was of the essence. Generally they didn’t keep children under the anaesthetic for more than a few hours at a time in case it proved too much for their small bodies to cope with. Hence why the skin grafts were still ongoing months later. Before they could even attempt the graft they had to clean the wound and harvest new skin from a separate donor site.

And Quinn wondered why recovery was taking so long.

‘Saline, please. Let’s get this done as quickly and accurately as we can.’ Despite all the support in the operating theatre from the assisting staff, Matt had never borne so much responsibility for a patient as he did now.

Simon was completely at his mercy lying here, lost among the medical equipment surrounding the operating table. The slightest slip and Matt would have to face the wrath of the Mighty Quinn.

He smiled beneath his surgical mask at the thought of her squaring up to him again, her slight frame vibrating with rage as the mama bear emerged to protect her cub. She was a firebrand when she needed to be, not afraid of voicing her opinion if she thought something wasn’t right. Matt didn’t take offence; he was confident in the decisions he made on his patient’s behalf and understood Quinn’s interference came from a place of love. That didn’t mean he wanted to give her further reason to berate him or challenge his authority.

He was as focused as he could be as they debrided Simon’s wounds, cleaning and removing the dead tissue to clear the way for the new graft so it would take. As always, he was grateful for his perfect eyesight and steady hands as he shaved the thin slices of tissue needed for the graft. His precision as he prepared this skin before placing it on the wound could impact on Simon for the rest of his life.

No pressure.

Just two vulnerable and emotional souls relying on him to work his magic.

CHAPTER TWO

IF WAITING WAS an Olympic event, Quinn would never make it through the qualifying rounds.

Although she’d had enough experience to know to come prepared, she hadn’t been able to sit still long enough to read her book or make any lesson plans for her tutored students. She’d even added an extra body to the picket line outside to save this hospital from closure in the hope it would take her mind off Simon going under the knife again. It was hard to believe anybody thought it was a good idea to merge this place with another outside the city when so many walked through the doors every day, and she was happy to wave a placard if it meant Simon’s treatment continued here without any disruption.

The kids called it the Castle because of the beautiful architecture, and the story-like turrets and spires certainly gave it more character than any modern glass building could hope to replicate. Quinn had actually found it quite an imposing place at first but that could have been because of what she’d had to face inside the walls. These days it had almost become their second home and the people within were now all so familiar she didn’t want anything to change.

‘How’s Simon?’

‘You poor thing...’

‘And you’re out here? With us?’

‘Have you heard how Ryan Walker is?’

‘He’s still an inpatient. I don’t think there’s been any real improvement. Even if he gets to go home I think the family are going to need a lot of help.’

‘And they have a toddler to look after too. It’s such a burden for them. For you too, Quinn, with Simon.’

The other Westbourne Grove Primary parents on the picket line had been well-meaning but the chit-chat hadn’t helped her paranoia. Ryan, who’d suffered a serious head injury during the fire, was still critical and he and Simon were among the last of the children still receiving treatment. The raised eyebrows and exchanged glances at her presence anywhere other than Simon’s bedside made her wonder if she had done the right thing in participating in the event and she’d abandoned her post in a hurry. Perhaps a real mother would’ve acted differently when her son was in surgery and she worried people would think she wasn’t compassionate when that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

That little boy meant everything to her. He might only be with her for a short time but she was as invested in him as if he was her own flesh and blood. All she wanted was for him to feel safe and loved and she’d failed on both accounts, if his continued apathy towards her was anything to go by. Perhaps when these operations became less frequent, and without the constant disruption of hospital appointments, they might actually find the time and space to bond.

She tossed her uneaten, soggy ham sandwich back into the crumpled aluminium foil. Not even the chocolate biscuit nestled in her pre-packed lunchbox could tempt her into eating. She had no appetite for anything other than news on Simon’s condition. It might be a standard procedure for the staff but she knew there were risks for any surgery under general anaesthetic—breathing difficulties, adverse reaction to medication, bleeding—she’d done her Internet research on them all. Of course, none of these had occurred thus far but that didn’t mean they couldn’t happen.

In a world so full of danger she wondered how any parent ever let their offspring over the doorstep alone. It was taking all of her courage just to let Simon get the treatment recommended by the experts. At the end of the day, parental responsibility had been handed over to her and it was her job to keep him safe until adoption took place with another family.

That permanent knot in her stomach didn’t untangle even when she saw him safely wheeled back onto the ward.

‘How did it go?’ she asked the first person who walked through the doors towards her. Of course that person had to be Matt.

Deep down she was grateful; the surgeon was the best person to keep her informed. It was just...he was always here, disturbing her peace of mind, reminding her he was doing a better job of taking care of Simon than she was.

Matt saw no reason to prolong Quinn’s misery any longer. ‘It all went well. No complications or unforeseen problems. Now we just have to wait for this young man to come around again.’

It had been a long day for him with surgery and his outpatient clinic but Quinn had every right to be kept in the loop and he’d wanted to end the day on a high for all of them by coming to speak to her. He wanted to be the one to smooth out the worry lines on her brow. Besides, he’d rather she torture him for information than take out her frustrations on the rest of the staff. He could handle it better because he understood it better. After being thrown in at the deep end and having to learn on the job, he hadn’t exactly been a model parent either when he’d fought his siblings’ battles.

‘Thank goodness.’

The fleeting relief across her face and the glimpse of the pretty, young woman beneath the mask of combative parent was Matt’s reward for a job well done.

She followed the bed into the private cubicle with him, never letting go of Simon’s hand although he was still drowsy from the anaesthetic.

‘Once he comes around and he’s ready for home, we’ll make sure you have painkillers to take with you. If there’s any further problem with itching or infection let us know.’

‘I think I’ve got the number on speed dial,’ she said with the first sign of humour of the day.

Matt knew they’d been through this routine countless times but it was part of his duty to make sure the correct treatment was followed up at home. Quinn’s co-operation was just as important as his in the recovery.

‘As usual, we’ll need you to try and keep the dressings dry until you come back to have them changed. You’ve got an appointment with the child psychologist too, right? It’s important that Simon has help to process everything he’s going through.’ Never mind the fire itself, the surgery alone could be traumatic enough for someone so young to get past. He already seemed so withdrawn and Matt wanted to make sure they were doing all they could as a team to make him better.

‘The psychologist, the physiotherapist, the dietitian—we’ve got a full house in appointment bingo.’ Her voice was taking on that shrill quality which was always an indication of an impending showdown.

‘I know it’s a lot to take on but it won’t be for ever. It’s all to ensure Simon recovers as quickly and effectively as possible so you can both go back to your normal routine outside of these hospital walls.’ He didn’t know what that included since she seemed to spend every waking moment here. Almost as if she was afraid to go home.

These days he had an entirely different outlook on his personal time. There was nothing he loved more than reclaiming the peace and quiet of his apartment and the freedom of doing whatever he felt like without having to fit around other people’s schedules.

‘Don’t.’ Her small plea reached in and squeezed his insides, making him wonder how on earth he’d managed to upset her in such a short space of time.

‘Don’t what?’ He didn’t understand the sudden change in her body language as she let go of Simon’s hand to wrap her arms around her waist in self-comfort.

‘Don’t make any more promises you have no way of keeping.’

Matt frowned. He was supposed to be the harbinger of good news, not enemy number one. ‘Ms Grady, Quinn, I’ve assured you on many, many occasions we are doing everything in our control—’

‘I’ve heard it all before but there always seems to be one thing after another—infections, fevers, night terrors, haemo-wotsit scars—’

‘Hemotrophic.’

‘Whatever. Life is never going to be normal when every surgery creates further problems.’ Her voice, now reaching levels only dogs and small unconscious children could hear, brought a murmur from Simon before he drifted off to sleep again.

This wasn’t the time or the place for one of her dressing-downs about how nothing he did was good enough. Venting or not, Simon didn’t need to hear this.

He placed a firm hand under Quinn’s elbow and, for the umpteenth time since they’d met, he guided her out of the room. Whatever was going on he couldn’t continually let her undermine him in front of his patient. If Simon didn’t believe he could help him he might lose hope altogether.

Quinn dug her heels in but it only took a pointed glance back at the bed and an extra push to get her moving again.

‘I’m not a child,’ she insisted, shaking him off.

‘Then stop acting like one. This is a conversation that needs to be held away from impressionable young ears.’ His own temper was starting to bubble now. Why couldn’t she see he would do anything to help them? She seemed determined to make this situation more difficult than it already was. Perhaps it was time he did back off if his presence here was partly to blame for getting her riled. Once he’d said his piece today he’d go back to his official role of reconstructive surgeon and nothing more.

She huffed into the corridor for another round of their battle of wills. He waited until the door was firmly closed behind them and there was no audience to overhear what he was about to say.

‘The graft was a success. That’s what you should be focusing on here.’

‘That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one he runs away from crying when it’s time to bathe him, or the one who has to rock him back to sleep when he wakes from the nightmares, screaming.’ Quinn’s eyes were shimmering with tears, the emotions of the day clearly coming to a head.

He kept an eye out for a female member of staff who’d be in a better position to comfort her. For him to hug her was stretching the boundaries of his professionalism a tad too far. Whilst he sympathised, at the end of the day, she wasn’t one of his siblings and not his direct responsibility.

‘Perhaps it would help to talk to one of the other parents? I know they’re bound to be going through the same struggles right now.’ He didn’t doubt she was having a tough time of it personally but he really wasn’t the one to guide her through it.

This was why he should treat all patients exactly the same and not let sentiment, or physical attraction to a parent, cloud his judgement.

‘They probably are but I’m not part of the clique. I’m the new kid on the block as much as Simon. Most of them have known each other for years through the Parent Teacher Association and I haven’t even been around long enough to organise a playdate for Simon, much less myself. Even if I did, I’d probably have to make sure they all had background checks done first. Not the way to start any budding friendship, I’m sure you’ll agree. No, we’ve managed this far on our own without inviting strangers in to witness our misfortune. I think we can persevere a little longer.’

She was insisting she could go it alone but those big blue eyes said otherwise and prevented Matt from walking away when he knew that was the best thing he could do to save himself.

‘The staff here will always be available for you and Simon but I do think perhaps our personality clash isn’t helping your stress levels. Unless there are any complications I’m sure the nurses can take care of you until the next scheduled surgery. I’ll make sure I keep my promise to him today though. I will come back when he’s awake and show him that magic trick.’

This time he did manage to move his feet, but as he took a step away, Quinn took one closer.

‘Oh, yeah. It’s so easy for you to gain his trust. A few stupid magic tricks and he thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread, but me? He hates me. I’ve given up my job, lost my partner and abandoned any hope of a social life so I could focus on fostering, and for what? I’ve failed at that too.’

The thing he’d been dreading most finally happened. The dam had burst and Quinn was weeping onto his scrubs. There was no possibility of him leaving her now. She needed a shoulder to cry on and it was simply rotten luck for both of them—he’d been the wrong person at the wrong time.

‘He doesn’t hate you. You’re in a...transition period. That’s all. After all of the trauma it’s going to take a while for him to settle down.’ He heard the chatter of passers-by and took it upon himself to reposition Quinn so she was against the wall and his body was shielding her from view. She was so slight in his arms, so fragile, it was a natural instinct to want to protect her.

As if he didn’t have enough responsibilities in his life.

She shook against him, her sobs wracking so hard through her petite frame he was afraid she might break.

‘I. Wish. I. Was. More. Like. You,’ she hiccupped against his chest.

‘I’ve never performed a sex change and I think it might be weird if I started making clones of myself.’ He wanted to add that it would be a shame to tamper with the beautiful body she’d been given but it sounded inappropriate even in a joke. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her soft curves pressed against him right now in anything other than a sympathetic and completely professional manner.

The sobbing stopped and she lifted her head from his chest, either because she’d rediscovered her sense of humour or he’d completely creeped her out. He held his breath until he read her face and exhaled when he saw the wobbly smile start to emerge.

‘I mean, you’re a natural with Simon, with all the kids. I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for parenthood.’ Her bottom lip began to quiver again in earnest and Matt made it his personal mission to retrieve that smile.

He tilted her chin up with his thumb so she stopped staring at the floor to look at him instead. She needed to believe what he was telling her. Believe in herself.

‘I’ve picked up a few child-wrangling tips along the way. Parenting isn’t easy and that parent/child bond simply needs a little nurturing. I have a few short cuts I can share with you if you promise never to breathe a word of my secrets. I would hate to dent my reputation as the resident child-whisperer.’

‘Heaven forbid. I’m sure that would break the hearts of many around here who worship the ground you walk on.’ She blinked away the tears and for a split second it would be easy for Matt to forget where he was and do something stupid.

If they weren’t standing in a hospital corridor he might’ve imagined they were having ‘a moment.’ She’d made it clear she wasn’t one of his devoted followers and yet her body language at present said entirely the opposite.

Matt’s stomach growled, a reminder he hadn’t eaten anything substantial since mid-morning, and distracted him from her dilated pupils and those swollen pink lips begging him to offer some comfort. He couldn’t go back on his word to help but he did need a timeout to regain his composure and remember who he was. That definitely wasn’t supposed to be a man prepared to cancel a hot date in order to spend some unpaid overtime counselling families.

‘Listen, there’s a pub across the road—the Frog and Peach. Why don’t I meet you over there in ten minutes to talk things over? We can grab a drink or a bite to eat and come straight back here the minute Simon wakes up.’ There was nearly always a contingent from the hospital propping up the bar at the end of their shift and he was counting on someone else to jump in and come to Quinn’s aid before he committed to something else he’d come to regret. The phone call he was going to have to make would end his most recent love interest before it even began.

She gave a wistful glance at the room behind her before she answered. The sign of a true mother thinking of her son before herself, even though she didn’t realise it.

‘I’ll leave word to contact us the second he opens his eyes.’ He wasn’t going to beg but he did want to fulfil his obligations ASAP so he could finish his working day and head home. Alone.

‘Only if you’re sure...’ Her hesitation was as obvious in her doe-like eyes as it was in her voice.

Matt wasn’t any more certain this was a good idea than Quinn but a chat in a pub had to be infinitely safer than another five minutes with her in his arms.

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