About the Authors

SCARLET WILSON wrote her first story aged eight and has never stopped. She’s worked in the health service for twenty years, having trained as a nurse and a health visitor. Scarlet now works in public health and lives on the West Coast of Scotland with her fiancé and their two sons. Writing medical romances and contemporary romances is a dream come true for her.

Having tried a variety of careers in retail, marketing and nursing, LOUISA GEORGE is thrilled that her dream job of writing for Mills & Boon means she gets to go to work in her pyjamas. Louisa lives in Auckland, New Zealand, with her husband, two sons and two male cats. When not writing or reading Louisa loves to spend time with her family, enjoys travelling, and adores eating great food.

Also By Scarlet Wilson

The Doctor She Left BehindA Touch of Christmas MagicThe Doctor’s Baby SecretOne Kiss in Tokyo…Christmas in the Boss’s CastleA Royal Baby for ChristmasThe Doctor and the PrincessThe Mysterious Italian HouseguestA Family Made at ChristmasThe Italian Billionaire’s New Year Bride

Also By Louisa George

Waking Up With His Runaway BrideThe War Hero’s Locked-Away HeartThe Last Doctor She Should Ever DateHow to Resist a Heartbreaker200 Harley Street: The Shameless MaverickA Baby on Her Christmas ListTempted by Her Italian SurgeonHer Doctor’s Christmas ProposalTempted by Hollywood’s Top DocThe Nurse’s Special Delivery

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk

Resisting the Single Dad/Reunited by Their Secret Son

Resisting the Single Dad

Scarlet Wilson

Reunited by Their Secret Son

Louisa George

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09572-3

RESISTING THE SINGLE DAD/REUNITED BY THEIR SECRET SON

Resisting the Single Dad © 2018 Scarlet Wilson Reunited by Their Secret Son © 2018 Louisa George

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Resisting the Single Dad

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Reunited by Their Secret Son

Back Cover Text

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

Resisting the Single Dad

Scarlet Wilson

A doctor looking to cure his son...

Does his own heart need fixing, too?

Dr. Gene Du Bois arrives at Geneva airport with more baggage than Cordelia Greenway expected—his adorable young son! She usually avoids reminders of the family she’ll never have, but there’s no escaping this devoted dad when they’re working and living together. Gene’s sexy Texas drawl soon weakens her defenses, leaving Cordelia wondering—could this little family be her future after all?

This book is dedicated to my editor, Sheila Hodgson.

Thank you for looking after me so well in the past year, and for being such a brilliant advocate for the Medical Romance line.

Love you, Sheila!

CHAPTER ONE

CORDELIA GREENWAY RELAXED back into the chair as she tried to ignore the palpitations and light-headedness that had started. She breathed deeply and put her fingers to the side of her neck, massaging gently and closing her eyes as she waited for the manoeuvre to take effect.

Sweat started to run between her shoulder blades—another symptom. People were chatting all around her—no one seemed to have noticed her little ‘turn’. And that was just the way she liked it. She hated fuss. She hated being under the spotlight.

So she stayed quiet, gently continuing to massage, and willing her heartbeat to steady. She probably should have glanced at her watch to time this—but she was so used to dealing with it, so used to keeping it under the radar, that it hadn’t even entered her brain until now. She’d just gone into self-protect mode.

Her other hand lifted the hair off the back of her neck, where it was sticking. Ugh. But things were finally starting to work. She could almost hear out loud the beat of her heart starting to slow. Thank goodness.

After a few minutes she took a deep breath and rested her head on the cool desk for a second. Better. She tugged at her shirt, pulling it away from her body to let the air circulate. First thing she’d do when she got back home was jump in the shower.

There was a noise to her left. She stuck her head up above her cubby hole. Several of the other researchers were doing the same—they looked like a family of meerkats.

Professor Helier was pacing with his phone. The noise had come from his office. His voice squeaky. She didn’t hesitate. She was at the glass door in seconds. ‘Franc?’

Now he was nodding, scribbling things frantically on a piece of paper. He looked so pale. He swayed a little. She walked inside and held out her hands protectively behind him, in case he fell over. Professor Helier was the whole reason she was here.

When she’d found out that he was heading up the cardiac research at this lab, she had to be here. She would have done just about anything to work with this famed researcher.

But in the end all it had taken had been a few phone calls. She’d been head of the zebrafish research in the UK—leading the pioneering work into discovering their ability to regenerate heart muscle and how that could be transferred to humans. Professor Helier had embraced her interest instantly, inviting her to come and meet him, and asking if she wanted to lead one of his teams. She hadn’t hesitated for a second.

The chance to work in Switzerland. The rich, clean air, snow-topped mountains, and a whole host of chocolates she should never touch. When she’d explained her reasons for working in cardiac research he’d just given her a beaming smile, and patted her hand. ‘Cordelia, we all have our reasons for being here. That’s what makes us all special.’ He’d winked. ‘That’s what gives us all heart.’ And the bad jokes had continued for the last three years.

He swayed a little again as he replaced the phone. She felt instantly protective. Franc must be approaching seventy and time hadn’t been too kind to him. He always had a kind of frazzled appearance about him, along with his sometimes white coat and mass of grey hair. ‘Franc, what is it? What can I do?’

No one knew exactly how old Franc Helier was. Even doing an internet search didn’t help. He’d had the same mad grey hair and slim frame for the last forty years. Some of the junior staff joked that he looked like a mixture of Albert Einstein and a mad professor from a time travel movie. But for Cordelia it didn’t matter. He was her friend. And she was his. That was all that mattered.

Franc put both hands on the desk. ‘It’s Emily,’ he said a little breathlessly.

‘Your sister?’ He nodded, his expression a bit glazed. ‘That was the hospital in Marseille. Apparently she collapsed at home and needs emergency surgery.’

Cordelia didn’t hesitate. She lifted Franc’s hat and coat from the hook behind her, thrusting them towards him. ‘Go. Go now.’ As he took them with slightly shaking hands she walked around his desk and opened his second drawer. She really did know him like family. ‘Here. Your passport. Do you want me to book you a flight and arrange a pick-up? I can book a hotel for you too.’ She glanced at the name of the hospital written in scrawled script on the note. ‘I’ll find one near there.’

He blinked. And she reached out and touched his cheek. Franc had no other family. His wife had died ten years ago and all he had left was his sister. ‘Go, Franc. Go be with your sister. Everything will be fine here. You know it will.’

He nodded nervously. ‘Of course. I trust you, Cordelia. You know I do.’

She pulled up the collar of his jacket. ‘I’ll email you the details of the flight, transport and hotel. Just go home and pack a few things.’

He still looked a little stunned. Just what had they told him on the phone?

‘Is there anything else I can do for you, Franc?’

It was almost as if she’d flicked a switch in his brain. ‘The Japanese investors are coming on Tuesday. Drug trials AZ14 and CF10 need to be monitored, with all data recorded by midweek. There are clinics to cover.’

She smiled and touched his arm. ‘I’ve got them. You know I’ve got them.’

His gaze met hers and it was the first time he’d looked a little more assured. Her illness had led her away from the traditional role of doctor. She’d spent years on wards dealing with her own symptoms, along with patients’. Long shifts and nights and nights of being on call had made her symptoms worse. When she’d finally realised she couldn’t do the job she loved, she’d picked the next best thing. Her role here was fifty-fifty. Fifty per cent researcher and fifty per cent doctor in a well-supported, controlled environment. It suited her. It let her be involved in research that could make a difference for millions of patients around the world—herself included.

Franc gave a little jolt. He waved his hand at the chaos that was his desk. ‘Oh, and we have a new doctor arriving. I’m supposed to pick them up at the airport.’

Cordelia winced and grabbed her notebook from her pocket. ‘Is it Geneva?’

He nodded. She had to check. They had staff flying in from all around the world, and they didn’t always arrive at the closest airport. ‘What’s the name?’

‘Jeanne DuBois. It sounds French but it’s American.’ Something must have flashed into his brain. ‘Oh.’

It was just the way he said it. ‘What?’ she questioned. ‘What’s “oh”?’

He pulled a face. ‘They’re supposed to stay with me. They were kind of a last-minute addition and hadn’t managed to sort out accommodation yet.’

Cordelia swallowed, then nodded her head appropriately. She gave a smile. ‘You’re turning into an old cat lady, Franc. Taking in every waif and stray.’

She shook her head. Her own apartment’s ceiling had collapsed last week after a neighbour upstairs had suffered a burst pipe. Franc had been gracious enough to let her stay in his own rambling mansion on the outskirts of Geneva. He often put up visiting researchers. Cordelia waved her hand. ‘Leave it with me. That probably makes things easier anyway. It means when I pick them up, I get to drive back home. Oops.’ She put her hand up to her mouth as she realised what she’d said.

But Franc just shook his head and gave her shoulder a squeeze. ‘My home is your home, Cordelia. It always will be. Here’s hoping they take more than a month to fix your ceiling.’ He closed his eyes for a second. ‘It could be that soon you’ll be the only family I have left.’

Her stomach flipped. This was serious. Part of her wished she’d heard that phone call. She reached over and gave Franc a bear hug. He felt so frail. So thin. Had he lost more weight and she hadn’t noticed?

She whispered in his ear. ‘I think of you as family too, Franc. Always remember that. You need something—I’m here.’

Franc nodded. ‘Thank you, Cordelia.’ He pulled himself free from her embrace and put on his hat and tucked his passport into his jacket. ‘I’ll call you.’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’ll message you. Go home and pack, and I’ll arrange the flights and transfers. Head straight to the airport and I’ll have things sorted by the time you get there.’

Franc nodded as he headed to the door. ‘What would I do without you?’ He gave a shake of his head. ‘Just glad I don’t need to find out.’

Her heart gave a little twist as he headed to the elevators. She’d have to send out an email to let everyone know Franc had been called away for a few days. And she’d do that—just as soon as she’d organised the flights, hotel and transport. She spent the next twenty minutes online then messaged Franc.

A little pink sticky note was sitting in the debris on Franc’s desk. She plucked it out and stared at it for a few seconds.

Geneva 20.00

She glanced at her watch. Please tell me that isn’t the flight for the visiting doctor. She rummaged amongst the papers on the desk. Franc’s desk had a notoriety all of its own. Some of the people who worked here thought that messages came to Franc’s desk to die. It certainly seemed like that. It was extraordinary. In all his research studies he was fastidious. Meticulous. Cordelia always joked that Franc’s desk was the one place he could leave his true mess behind.

Try as she might, she couldn’t find any other notes that resembled airport pick-up times. Darn it. She grabbed her purse. She’d barely make it.

The last thing she wanted to do was leave this poor doctor stranded at the airport.

If she hurried, she might just get there in time...

* * *

The first flush of passengers exited through the gates to screams and yelps from people waiting. Cordelia always felt a little like a voyeur at these times—intruding on private family moments. The joy on some of the faces was beautiful. There were obviously a few more painful reunions. People embracing and bursting into sobs as they hugged each other. It made her heart ache.

She looked down at her hastily scrawled black letters. Jeanne Du Bois. She didn’t even have any idea what age the doctor that was arriving from the US was. The only thing she was sure of was that they would be expecting Professor Helier, not a brunette in her thirties.

She people watched for a while. An elderly couple greeting adult children returning home. A woman dropping her bags and running towards a guy, almost knocking him flat with her embrace. A few tourists, walking out with maps in hand and heading to the taxi rank.

And a guy, complete with cowboy boots and Stetson, wearing jeans and a dark grey T-shirt. He travelled wearing a Stetson?

She watched in amusement as he glanced around arrivals. He was tall. He really didn’t need the Stetson to emphasise his height. As for those well-fitting jeans... She pulled her eyes away and focused on the door again, waiting to see if Jeanne Du Bois would appear. What would she look like? Probably tired. Most researchers who came from the US had to take two or three flights to get to Geneva.

She leaned against the barrier and tried not to dream of coffee and takeout food. She hadn’t had time to eat before she’d left the research centre. Her stomach gave a growl just as the click of the cowboy boots came towards her.

A pair of deep brown eyes fixed on hers as he tipped his hat at her. He gestured towards the sign. ‘I think you might be waiting for me.’

She blinked and looked down at her sign as if it might have changed while she wasn’t looking.

He was close enough that she could smell his woody aftershave and see his sun-kissed skin. But it was the accent that threw her.

It was a thick American drawl. Like treacle. Or maple syrup. Something that smothered you in gorgeousness and just made you go...whoa.

She frowned as she tried not to let her herself be distracted by those very chocolaty eyes. Why was she associating everything with food? She was obviously hungrier than she’d thought.

‘I’m waiting for a woman.’ She looked down at her sign again, checking she hadn’t been secretly pranked. Nope. It was still her writing. ‘Jeanne Du Bois.’

The guy gave a lazy kind of smile and put his hand on his chest. ‘I’m Jeanne Du Bois. Except it’s GENE. You know? Like Gene Kelly? Or Gene Hackman?’

She blinked. She still couldn’t get over that accent. She wrinkled her nose. It reminded her of her favourite US TV series. ‘Are you from Texas?’

He tipped his hat again. ‘My mother was French, but I’m a Texan through and through.’ He held out his hand towards her. ‘Pleased to meet you, ma’am. You’ve obviously dyed your hair, Professor Helier. And had a sex change,’ he added with a wink.

Her brain sparked back into gear. ‘Oh, yes. I’m sorry.’ She shook his hand swiftly, the warm touch sending a little pulse up her arm. ‘I’m Dr Cordelia Greenway, Professor Helier’s second in command. I’m so sorry. He’s had a family emergency, literally in the last few hours. I asked him who I was collecting at the airport and when he told me Jeanne Du Bois. I just assumed it was a woman.’

The guy shrugged. ‘You’re in Switzerland. I guess I can live with being mistaken for a woman.’

She wanted to laugh out loud. There was no chance of this guy being mistaken for a woman. Not when he looked, smelled and sounded like that.

She gestured around him. ‘Where’s your luggage? My car is in the car park just a few minutes from here. I can take you back to Professor Helier’s house. I’m staying there too.’

For the briefest of seconds something flashed across his face. ‘Oh.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Right. Yes...that’s great.’

She felt heat rush into her cheeks. He was making assumptions. She shook her head frantically. ‘Oh, no. No. Professor Helier and I are...friends. He’s helping me out too. The ceiling in my apartment collapsed last week.’

Gene’s eyebrows rose. ‘Oh, no. What a nightmare.’

She nodded and smiled. ‘Yip. And my upstairs neighbour is off on a round-the-world cruise for a month. And still doesn’t know about her leaking pipe, or the fact the factor had to break down her door to get in and switch her water off.’

Gene glanced over his shoulder, then looked back at her. ‘So where does that leave you?’

‘Homeless. Wet. With water pouring down my walls and ruining my carpets and electrics.’ She raised her hand and shook her head. ‘No, really, the water might have been turned off, but until my neighbour is back and our insurance companies can battle it out together...’ She let her words trail off.

He nodded. ‘You’re kind of stuck?’ He took off his cowboy hat to reveal short brown hair that he ran his hand through. ‘I guess that means that Professor Helier doesn’t really have a lot of room.’

She held up her hands. ‘It’s fine. Really it is. Honestly, his house isn’t a house—it’s a kind of rambling mansion. It’s the kind of place they read you fairy stories about when you’re a kid. He has plenty of space.’ She wiggled her hand. ‘Not all of it habitable. But there are rooms next to mine that are comfortable. You’ll be fine.’ She looked back at the doors. ‘Do you want to collect your luggage and we’ll go?’

He gave her a nod and stuck his hat back on his head. ‘Are you okay to help me with the cases?’

She was a little surprised. ‘Just how many did you bring?’

He smiled. ‘Just one each.’

She blinked and looked behind him. ‘One each? There’s someone else with you?’

A wave of concern swept his face. ‘You mean Professor Helier didn’t tell you?’

She felt her stomach flip over. She was so looking forward to getting home, eating something takeout and climbing into her pyjamas. She didn’t need any more unexpected turns right now. Not when she needed to be up at six a.m. to prepare for the patients attending clinic tomorrow. She almost didn’t want to say the words out loud. ‘Tell me what?’

‘That I wasn’t coming alone?’ He sounded nervous.

She half expected some beauty queen to emerge from the arrivals hall with a stunning full-length gown, silver heels and blonde hair tumbling down her back. After all, he looked like a guy who would inevitably be dating some kind of beauty queen.

She swallowed. Wine. Maybe she’d have some wine instead of coffee when she got back.

‘No.’ She tried to sound friendly. ‘He didn’t mention it.’ She looked around him again. ‘Is your wife just freshening up?’

He gave her a quizzical glance. ‘Oh, he really didn’t tell you. It’s not my wife. I don’t have a wife. It’s my son, Rory. He’s sleeping. One of the airline staff is minding him while I checked to see if our pick-up was here. I guess that’s you.’

‘Your son?’

She couldn’t help it. She hadn’t meant it to sound like that. Of course some of the visiting doctors brought their partners or families when they came to stay. It just wasn’t like Professor Helier to miss such an important detail. It just let her know how distracted he’d actually been.

Gene gave her a little frown. ‘Is that going to be a problem? I’m happy to call a cab and check into a local hotel. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’

It was the tone of his voice. He was annoyed. And no wonder. He’d been travelling for hours to a strange city, a new job—and she wasn’t exactly being welcoming.

She held up her hand. ‘It’s no problem. If you want to get your son, I can manage the cases.’

For a few seconds he just stared at her, almost as if he was trying to decide whether to believe her or not. But she could see the fatigue on his face. She had a cheek to feel tired when he’d just crossed the Atlantic to get here. No wonder his son was sleeping. Gene Du Bois probably wanted to be sleeping too.

He gave a nod and headed back to the doors. A perfectly groomed stewardess met him with the child in her arms. Gene took the sleeping little figure easily, letting him snuggle into his shoulder, with one arm under his legs. He grabbed a large navy blue case with one hand as the stewardess brought out another—bright green with a lion on front.

Cordelia smiled as she felt a little pang. Kids. She normally managed to circumvent them. Having an ongoing cardiac condition wasn’t exactly conducive to having kids, and the older she got, the more she thought about it.

She’d learned to distance herself. It was easier that way. There was less chance of seeing what she’d miss out on. Less chance of becoming bitter about what could never be hers.

But she couldn’t exactly circumvent a kid in the same house as her.

She hurried over and grabbed the bright green suitcase, trundling it behind her, and tried to keep up with Gene Du Bois’s long strides.

‘Dr Du Bois, Professor Helier didn’t let me know what programme you’ll be contributing to. I’ll need to make some introductions and ensure everything has been put in place for you. Can you let me know what research you’re involved in?’

Gene gave her a sideways glance and slowed his steps. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if this was a good idea. I came here because the Reuben Institute is supposed to be at the forefront of cardiac research. I’m here for a month, to take the lead on the cardiomyopathy studies.’

She couldn’t help but pull a face. ‘Listen, I know this might seem chaotic, but the only thing that’s normally chaotic at the Reuben Institute is Professor Helier’s desk. Everything else is ruthlessly efficient, I assure you.’

They crossed the road towards the car park. ‘What project do you lead on?’

She winced as her stomach grumbled loudly. ‘The zebrafish studies.’ She opened the car door. ‘How about we put aside cardiac studies for this evening? I have to confess to not being much of a cook. Would the little guy eat pizza if I picked some up for us on the way back to the house?’

Gene settled the little boy into the car and strapped him in, with barely a murmur from his son. He ruffled his son’s hair. ‘Rory happens to be a big fan of pizza. After nearly twenty hours’ travelling, I’m willing to do takeout.’

Cordelia gave a thankful nod and climbed into the car. ‘Great. We should be home in twenty minutes. Settle in. The scenery is outstanding.’

She paused for a second and couldn’t help but ask the question that had been swimming around her head since she’d first seen him. ‘So, Dr Du Bois, do you always do full cowboy when you travel?’

He took off his hat as he climbed into the car and gave her a wink. ‘What can I say? I’m from Texas.’

* * *

Gene wasn’t quite sure what to think. He was beginning to regret dragging his little guy halfway across the planet to be involved in this research project. Professor Helier had guaranteed everything would be in place—including a suitable day-care arrangement for Rory.

Gene leaned back in the comfortable seat and closed his eyes for a few seconds. Maybe he should be watching the gorgeous scenery, but twenty hours of jet-lag was rapidly catching up with him. It had already made him more than a little short with his hostess. His momma would be spinning in her grave and slapping the back of his head right now.

No one could believe when his French scientist mother had fallen for a Texas cowboy—least of all her. Moving from Paris to Houston, Texas had been a culture shock for her. And after ten years and still no wedding ring, she’d finally bailed.

So Gene had spent his life between two continents. And he’d considered himself lucky. Flitting between a ranch in Texas and the city of Paris hadn’t exactly been hard. As a child he’d excelled in living on two continents. And even though his father had been disappointed his son wanted to study medicine instead of ranching, he knew his dad had still been secretly proud.

The only thing that had really swept the feet from under him had been the message three years ago from the fellow doctor he’d had a fling with at a cardiac conference. Mindy had suffered from congenital hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. Pregnancy should never have been on her life plan. But when she’d found herself pregnant with Rory after a few passionate nights together in Istanbul, she’d chosen to go ahead with the pregnancy.

She’d only contacted Gene when things had got desperate. Everyone had advised her not to go ahead, knowing exactly what the strain of a pregnancy would do to her. Sure enough, soon after Rory had been born, she’d ended up on the heart transplant list.

And when she’d gone into complete heart failure, she’d finally contacted Gene to let him know about his son.

He’d been angry. He’d been furious. But how furious could a guy be at someone who was clearly dying?

His life had turned upside down in an instant. One look at the nine-month-old cheeky little blond baby, pulling himself up on wobbly legs to the side of his mother’s bed, had been all the time he’d needed to make a decision.

It didn’t help that in the interim since the conference he’d actually met someone. Karen. An anaesthetist at Boston General where he was working. They’d moved in together. Had had tentative talks about the future. He’d even considered buying a ring.

But the unexpected son had been a bolt out of the blue that Karen could never have expected. She’d been shocked—and then walked away. And he couldn’t blame her. They’d discussed the fact they might like a family in the future—but Karen wasn’t ready to deal with one that had been thrust on her. So after a year of being in a settled relationship he’d found himself alone.

Mindy had died three weeks later. And Gene had immediately set about turning his life around.

A single dad working in a hospital environment wasn’t exactly conducive to good parenting.

He’d never considered working in research up until that point. But knowing that his son carried the gene for cardiomyopathy was enough to put his priorities in order. He’d spent the last three years with his dad joking about Gene looking at genes.

But that was fine, because he’d spend the rest of his life looking at genes if it could help his son and any future grandkids.

He smiled to himself. Rory had just turned four. Four. And he was thinking about grandkids. But he was a doctor, he had to plan ahead. And every plan in his life now included Rory.

He opened his eyes and glanced at the woman driving the car. Cordelia Greenway. He was sure he’d seen her name on some of the research papers published by the Reuben Institute. She’d said she was Professor Helier’s second in command.

Gene had learned to take things in his stride. He’d had to. Life frequently threw curve balls. He didn’t mind curve balls. What he did mind was feeling as if his son was an unwanted extra. Maybe he was just being too sensitive? Or maybe he was being overprotective. But he was sure there had been a look of...something flash across Cordelia’s face when he’d mentioned his son.

It could just be that she’d been taken unawares. But his gut told him something else. His gut could almost sense her take about ten steps back. And he didn’t like that. He didn’t like that at all.

He wasn’t crazy. He didn’t expect the whole world to love his son the way he did. Some folks just didn’t do kids. He got that. But he would never tolerate anyone making his four-year-old feel unwelcome. Long journey or not, if he had to, he’d jump on the next flight back to Texas. Getting a job was never a problem. Getting the right job was more important than anything.

He gave himself a shake as she pulled the car up outside a pizza parlour. She turned around and gave him a nervous kind of smile. ‘What’s your poison?’ she asked. ‘This place is great. Everything’s fresh and their pizzas are to die for.’

He drew in a deep breath. She was making an effort, and it was clear he made her a bit nervous. He dug into his pocket for his wallet, but she shook her head and waved her hand. ‘Don’t be silly. You just got here. This is on me.’ She bit her bottom lip and nodded towards the sleeping figure in the back seat. ‘What about Rory?’

Gene glanced at his son again and felt his heart swell. This little guy was his life. One look of that cheeky little face could brighten the darkest day.

‘Just cheese and ham for him. I’ll have whatever the Swiss equivalent of a meat feast is.’

Cordelia gave him a nod and ducked out of the car. ‘No problem. Give me five minutes.’

She walked into the pizza parlour and he leaned back in the seat again, watching as she interacted with the servers. She seemed at home here—it was obvious that they knew her. She leaned on the counter, giving him a prime view of her curves visible in her pink fitted shirt and black trousers. He gave a small smile. She’d probably look great in a pair of jeans.

Her fingers toyed with a strand of chestnut-brown hair as she chatted. For the first time he looked at her left hand. No ring. Nothing. She’d said they would all be staying in Professor Helier’s mansion. Did she have a partner already there? Or would she be there alone with him and Rory?

His stomach gave a little clench. Maybe that was part of her discomfort. She’d clearly expected a woman to arrive at Geneva airport. Maybe being alone with a strange guy and kid had completely thrown her.

After another five minutes she slid back into the car with the pizza boxes. ‘Do you mind holding these until we reach the house? It will only be another five minutes.’

He nodded and started to pay attention to the scenery as they drove through the outskirts of Geneva. The buildings and architecture were stunning, a mixture of Gothic spires and brand-new glass towers. All this with a backdrop of snow-topped mountains against a darkening sky.

The road gradually became a little more rural and Cordelia indicated and turned through a pair of elaborate iron gates and continued on down a long driveway. Thick green trees lined the driveway, with extensive grounds all around them. After a few minutes a dark house seemed to emerge out of nowhere.

Gene couldn’t help but smile. It was like a real Gothic-style mansion—straight out of a Dracula-style movie. Gargoyles adorned some of the dark grey stonework around the myriad thin windows lining the front of the house. A huge, imposing double door, painted black with a large knocker, was right in front of them.

Cordelia pulled up directly outside and turned to face him. It was the first time she’d looked a little more relaxed since they’d met.

She held out her hand towards the house. ‘Here it is. And I’ll say it before you do. Dracula’s mansion. The inside is much more welcoming than the outside. You’ll love it.’ She glanced nervously over her shoulder towards Rory again. ‘And I’m sure he will too.’ She shot him a big smile. It only seemed a little forced. ‘Welcome to Switzerland, Dr Du Bois.’

CHAPTER TWO

SHE WAS BABBLING AGAIN. It was ridiculous. She was a thirty-one-year-old experienced doctor. She had absolutely no reason to be nervous. But somehow the cowboy from Texas with the blond kid had totally knocked her sideways.

She unlocked the front door and switched off the alarm. Rory was tucked up on his dad’s shoulder again. ‘Do you want to put him straight to bed?’ she asked, praying that the beds in the guest quarters were made up.

Gene shook his head. ‘No. I want to wake him up and feed him before letting him sleep right through. I always find it’s best to try and acclimatise as soon as possible.’

She blinked. ‘You move about a lot?’

He shrugged as he glanced around the wide entranceway and huge staircase leading to the upper floors. ‘I have done. Rory will be going to school next year, so I’ll need to have a rethink. But so far he’s been in nursery in the US, the UK and France. He seems to have loved them all.’

She gave a careful nod of her head. ‘Wow. That’s a lot.’ She hesitated then pointed towards the rooms to the right. ‘The formal kind of sitting rooms are that way. But how about we grab the pizzas and go through to the kitchen? The bedrooms are all upstairs, I’ll show you them soon.’

Gene glanced back out to the car. She waved her hand. ‘I can grab the cases.’

‘No way.’ His Texas drawl almost stopped her in her tracks. ‘There’s no way I’m letting you get them. Let me sit Rory down at the table. He’s waking up anyway. Can you get him a drink of water while I grab the cases?’

She nodded quickly and showed him through to the extensive black and white kitchen, with old-fashioned wooden table in the middle, pulling out the high-backed chairs for him to settle Rory.

The little boy watched her with suspicious eyes as she opened the cupboard and nearly pulled out a glass, before changing her mind at the last moment and swapping the glass for a mug. She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge then filled the mug and sat down next to him. She couldn’t help but feel nervous. What did you talk to a four-year-old about? And the truth was she was a little curious about this little kid. Would he have an accent like his father? ‘Hi, Rory, I’m Cordelia. I’m going to be working with your daddy.’

She flipped open the lid of the smallest pizza box. ‘We got you ham and cheese pizza. Your dad said you’d like that. Would you like some?’ She pulled a slice of the pizza free and left it for him to grab himself.

Rory watched her with dark eyes for a few moments. It was unnerving what the gaze of a four-year-old could do to her. She didn’t blame him. He’d literally just woken up, and was in completely strange surroundings. And she’d seen those big brown eyes before. Rory definitely had his father’s eyes.

She could hear Gene rolling the suitcases inside then closing the main door behind him. He strode through to the kitchen and sat down next to Rory, ruffling his hair again as he looked at the pizza boxes. ‘Which one is mine? Come on. Eat up, little guy. You must be starving.’

Rory stared at him. ‘Where’s the French fries?’

Cordelia almost laughed out loud—there was a definite hint of a Texan accent, but there was also a little bit more. Gene said they’d stayed in France and the UK too. It seemed the little boy had picked up a little of everything. She stood up and flicked the switch on the kettle and glanced over at Gene. ‘Do you want a cup of tea or coffee?’

Gene shook his head. ‘I’ll stick to water, thanks. I want to try and sleep a little tonight.’

Rory stopped staring at her suspiciously now his dad was back and picked up a slice of pizza. He leaned his head on one hand. ‘Where’s my bed?’

Gene glanced at her and Cordelia answered quickly. ‘It’s upstairs. There are two rooms, so you can either go in a room on your own or you can go in with your dad.’

Her stomach gave a little flip. She still didn’t know if the rooms were ready or not. Franc had a housekeeper who kept the place tidy. If he’d told her in advance she would have the rooms ready.

‘Give me five minutes,’ she said, bolting down a bite of pizza and running up the stairs.

She flicked on all the lights as she ran down the corridor, past her own rooms and on to the other guest bedrooms. The door were already open—always a good sign. She checked the first. The bed had been made up in pale blue, with a pile of white towels, some soap and a toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom next door.

The second room had been made up in pale green. There was a teddy sitting on the bed next to the pillow. It was slightly threadbare, but it was something. She sighed in relief. At some point Franc must have remembered—even if he hadn’t this afternoon. At least the rooms were ready. She could sort out everything else tomorrow.

By the time she got back down the stairs, Rory was back in his father’s arms, a half-eaten slice of pizza on the table.

‘Is he out for the count again?’

Gene nodded. ‘Everything okay upstairs?’ he asked warily.

She nodded. ‘Yes, just checking the rooms. Everything is perfect. I was just worried in case Franc hadn’t mentioned to the housekeeper about your arrival. But he must have remembered. The rooms are fine.’

Gene followed her up the stairs and laid Rory down on the green bed. He sat for a few seconds, stroking his blond hair and just watching him.

It felt like she was intruding. Watching a moment that should be shared just between a parent and child.

He turned to face her. ‘What time are we going to the institute tomorrow? I need to know so I can get us up and ready in time.’

Her brain automatically revised her usual plans. If she told them she was usually there from six a.m. until seven at night they would think she was crazy. Or sad. Or both. ‘I normally go in around eight a.m. I like to be available to check on any of the patients involved in the trials before they get started for the day. Would you be okay if we had breakfast just after seven?’

He nodded. ‘That’s fine. We’ll probably be up early anyway. Your morning will be our afternoon.’

She felt a wave of panic. ‘Rory—what does he eat for breakfast?’

Gene shrugged. ‘Whatever you’ve got. Cereal, toast, eggs. He’s happy with just about anything.’

‘If you write a list tomorrow, the housekeeper will get you whatever you need for him. I’m not sure just how many child-friendly foods we’ll have in the house right now.’

Gene looked over at her in the dim light. She could see the shadows under his eyes. He must be just as tired as Rory was.

A million questions were burning in her brain. Where was Rory’s mother? Why hadn’t he mentioned her at all?

There was a hint of bristle along his jawline. She watched as he leaned over Rory and kissed him gently on the head, the muscles on his chest and arms visible beneath the thin soft cotton T-shirt.

Her skin prickled. It wasn’t like her to notice things like that. Of course she wasn’t blind. Of course she’d had a few relationships in the past. But she’d never been the kind of girl to really notice a guy. To look at his eyes. To look at his build. To notice the way he looked at his son.

She gave herself a shake. She was being ridiculous.

It looked like Gene could be a while, so she backed out of the door into the corridor.

She had work to do. Plenty to distract her in the meantime. Cardiac research could easily stop her thinking about the man with the accent as thick as syrup and his equally cute young son.

She gave herself a shake and hurried back to the kitchen, pulling a stack of paperwork from her bag.

Work. That’s where she was always safest. She should concentrate on that.

* * *

Rory had snored peacefully all night while Gene had slept fitfully. It always took him a few days to be comfortable enough in his surroundings to sleep well. It didn’t help that his mind had kept drifting to the chestnut-haired woman with the bright green eyes.

He still wasn’t sure about her. If Professor Helier wasn’t going to be around he’d give her a day, then decide if he was staying or not. He’d learned not to waste time in this life.

Rory got ready eagerly, jumping into a pair of bright green shorts and his favourite baseball shirt and hat while Gene showered. He generally liked to dress a little more informally at work, but first impressions always lasted, so he left his Stetson on the dresser and pulled on work clothes more fitting for a cardiac physician.

By the time they reached the kitchen, Cordelia was already there, humming to herself as the coffee percolated and she popped some bread in the toaster. The kitchen table was set with cutlery, some cereals, a jug of milk and some butter, jam and marmalade. She even had a little pad and pen with ‘Shopping list’ written across the top.

She smiled as they appeared. ‘Good morning. Hi, Rory, did you sleep well last night?’

Rory started. It was almost as if he’d forgotten that he’d met her last night. Gene pulled out a chair for him. Cordelia had the sides of her hair pulled back in a clip and she was wearing a red dress and black suit jacket. The dress ended just on her knees and he blinked in surprise at her red baseball boots.

She laughed at his expression. ‘I know. I know. I had a problem with my feet a few years ago. I find baseball boots comfiest.’ She pointed to a pair of medium-heeled black shoes at the side of the kitchen, ‘But I promise I’ll change before we leave.’

‘What happened to your feet?’ Rory asked immediately, while Gene cringed.

There was the briefest uncomfortable blink from Cordelia then she gave a small shrug. ‘A very long time ago I was a ballet dancer. And when you’re a ballet dancer you go right up on your tippy-toes.’ She opened one palm and put the tips of the fingers of her other hand in the centre. ‘But when you do that when you’re still young it does damage to your toes.’ She pulled a face. ‘So my feet are quite ugly. But...’ she waved down at her shoes ‘...it gives me a chance to wear my favourite baseball boots.’

Gene felt a bit warmer. She seemed a little more relaxed this morning. More amenable. Maybe she’d got her head around sharing this house with a stranger and his kid.

Rory stared at her. ‘I like them,’ he said as he shot a glance at his dad. Gene almost laughed out loud. He knew exactly what was coming.

‘I wanted red baseball boots, but my dad wouldn’t get me any.’

Cordelia grabbed the toast as it popped and put it on a plate, carrying it over to the table with the coffee pot. She raised her eyebrows and gave Rory a conspiratorial glance. ‘He wouldn’t? Why ever not?’

She sounded easy. She sounded comfortable around them, but Gene noticed a tiny twitch at the side of her eye. She might be acting as if everything was fine, but she was still a little nervous. Why?

He picked up a piece of toast for Rory and started buttering it for him, smiling at his son the whole time. ‘I didn’t buy him a pair of red baseball boots because we already have a pair of blue and a pair of green.’

‘You have?’ Cordelia ducked her head under the table.

She frowned as she sat up. ‘But those aren’t baseball boots.’

Rory smiled as he picked up his toast. ‘Yeah. I put on my runners today. I decided I might need to be real quick.’

Gene poured some of the coffee into the mugs on the table. ‘Why would you need to be quick, Rory?’

Rory bit his toast and chewed for a few seconds before he answered in a whisper. ‘Because there might be...girls.’

Cordelia choked at the other side of the table, putting her hand over her mouth, her cheeks getting pinker and pinker. Gene watched in amusement. ‘Okay?’

She nodded and jumped up, grabbing a glass for some water. ‘Yes. Sorry.’ She smiled as she looked back at Rory. ‘I just wasn’t expecting that one.’

Gene leaned forward on the table, looking between his son and Cordelia. He ruffled Rory’s hair again. ‘Dad,’ said Rory, trying to shake him off, ‘stop that.’

Gene pulled his hand back and shrugged at Cordelia. ‘Apparently, it doesn’t matter what nursery or day care Rory goes to—his blond hair makes all the girls say he is cute.’

‘I’m not cute. I’m four,’ said Rory quickly.

Cordelia grinned as she sat down again. ‘I think four is kind of cute.’

Rory rolled his eyes. ‘Oh, not you too.’

Gene pulled a face at her and bent down to whisper in Rory’s ear. ‘Watch out, Rory. She might be like those other girls. She might want to kiss you.’

Rory gave a shudder and Cordelia laughed out loud. It was almost as if he could see the knot in her shoulders start to loosen.

They finished breakfast quickly and Gene scribbled a list for the housekeeper. ‘Remember red apples, Dad. And ’nanas.’ Gene added bananas to the list as Rory stuck his arms into his jacket. He was proud at how articulate his little boy was, but there were still some words that seemed like tongue-twisters to a four-year-old.

He swung Rory up into his arms. ‘Ready?’

Rory held up his fist and Gene bumped his against it. It was their move. Their superhero move.

Cordelia’s brow was wrinkled as she watched them. She had kind of a bewildered smile on her face as she stood next to the alarm, ready to punch in the code. ‘Let’s go then, guys.’

* * *

For the last week she’d breakfasted with Franc. It had been a much more genteel and sedate experience. This morning had been entirely different.

And it made her feel...odd.

She was getting to the stage in life where most of her friends had kids. Those who knew her best had enough awareness to realise that she occasionally found things tough. It wasn’t that she completely avoided kids. Of course she couldn’t. She just didn’t generally have them under her nose.

So this was different.

And even though part of her stomach twisted and turned, it was also nice. And that was unexpected.

This morning’s breakfast had been noisy, chaotic and maybe even a little fun.

They travelled the distance to the institute easily. It was close enough to the city centre for public transport but far enough away to be spacious and have adequate parking.

The institute employed more than three hundred staff. Physicians, nurses, researchers and admin staff. There was also a small day-care centre, which she prayed that Franc had remembered to book Rory into.

Helene, the woman in charge, gave the briefest of pauses when they entered, before putting a beaming smile on her face. ‘Ah, yes. Professor Helier mentioned that we might be getting a new recruit.’ She gave Gene a questioning smile. ‘I think he said for a month?’

Gene nodded. ‘Yes, my contract is just for a month.’

It was odd. Cordelia could tell he was a little nervous—but Rory clearly wasn’t. He might say he didn’t want to play with girls, but he wandered off straight away to go and join a group of kids. Helene walked quickly over to a desk and pulled out some paperwork and a pager. Gene smiled as he took it. ‘Haven’t had one of these since I was a hospital physician.’

Helene gave him a nod. ‘It’s just for the first few days. It means I can get hold of you quickly if Rory doesn’t settle.’ She ran through the paperwork, requesting medical history, allergies, immunisations and any special requirements. Rory was already babbling away in French to his counterparts. The kids in Switzerland spoke a whole variety of languages. It was fortunate that Rory had already spent some time in France.

Cordelia put her hand on Gene’s shoulder. ‘You okay?’

His eyes were fixed on Rory. He gave a nervous laugh as his dark brown eyes met hers. ‘Sure I am. The little guy never seems to have any problems fitting in. I just worry.’

Cordelia was curious. ‘Rory never stays with his mum?’

The look he gave her made her want to pull back the inquisitive words. What was it with her and this guy? He bit his bottom lip and put his head down, completing the paperwork, checking his pager was working and finishing with Helene.

Her skin prickled at the awkwardness of it all. He was new. They had visiting fellows at the Rueben Institute all the time. The institute was renowned. Their last Professor had won a special prize for his research. They had many joint projects with university hospitals across the globe. People wanted to work here. She counted herself lucky that she’d managed to secure a permanent position. If Gene Du Bois was going to be here for a month he’d have to lose a little of his prickliness.

She walked him out across the granite-floored, glass-fronted foyer. Above them was a glass atrium, showing the four floors of the institute.

She ignored the earlier hiccup and held out her hands. ‘Okay, Dr Du Bois, welcome to the Rueben Institute. Now that Rory is settled, let me show you around.’

* * *

Darn it. For some reason his tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth and he’d been unable to answer her question. Last time he’d been tongue-tied he’d been around fourteen. This was ridiculous.

But what was even more ridiculous was the thought that had shot into his head when she’d asked about Rory’s mother.

He literally had the story off pat. He’d been asked on numerous occasions where Rory’s mom was. It was a sad story. But lots of kids all over the world had only one parent. It wasn’t the biggest deal in the world.

But this time, when he’d been asked, he’d just frozen. Maybe it was those green eyes. Maybe it was the shiny brown hair and the way it looked so good with her red dress. Maybe it was those darned curves in that red dress that seemed to make a swishy kind of noise every time she took a step—daring him to look at the swing of her hips.

Or maybe it was the tiny freckles running across the bridge of her nose.

Whatever it was, it was something.

He was tired. That was all. Probably jet-lagged too. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to start straight away. Perhaps he should have given them a few days to settle in. But, then again, Rory looked like he’d settled already. And Gene couldn’t help but be proud of the way his son had naturally babbled away in French to the other kids.

He pulled his eyes away from the swinging hips in front of him and looked up at the impressive foyer. He’d seen pictures of the institute before. But he hadn’t really expected this.

Cordelia had walked over to the back of the institute—or what should be the back wall of the institute. Instead of brick, there was a wall entirely of glass, letting the bright morning light stream in and giving a picture-perfect view of the Alps in the distance. It was like capturing a holiday snap. Or picking up a picture postcard.

The view was breathtaking. And unexpected. She gave him a nod as she stood alongside him. She sucked in a deep breath. ‘Whenever I get exasperated at work, or fed up, I always like to remember how lucky I am to work here.’

He stood for a few minutes, his eyes scanning the horizon. It was like taking a chill pill. He’d been on edge, agitated about the arrangements and worried about how they might affect Rory. But standing here, watching this, it was almost as if someone had just put his head on a lavender pillow and told him to relax and calm down.

He’d wanted to come here. He’d wanted to work with Professor Helier. And even if Professor Helier wasn’t here, the rest of his team was.

He glanced sideways at Cordelia. She was smiling, drinking in the scenery that she obviously saw every day. ‘It never gets old,’ she said quietly. ‘Every day is a new day, with a world of possibilities.’

He pressed his lips together and asked the question that was burning in his mind. ‘You said you’re Professor Helier’s second in command. What’s your background?’

She turned to face him with an amused expression. ‘What is this? An interview?’

She gestured towards the glass staircase leading up to the next floor.

‘Maybe.’ He shrugged.

She nodded her head thoughtfully. ‘Okay, then. But it works both ways. Deal?’

He held his hand out towards her. ‘Deal.’ The warmth from her fingers almost made him shudder, especially as they brushed against the inside of his wrist.

Cordelia walked up the stairs ahead of him. He had to tell himself not to focus on her legs. Or her hips. Or her...

She started talking and broke into his wayward thoughts. ‘I’m a physician. I trained in the UK.’

‘I take it your speciality was cardiology.’

She nodded. ‘Of course. And yours?’

He gave the briefest of smiles. ‘The same.’

She hesitated for a second. ‘I always had a special interest in cardiology.’ She gave a nonchalant wave of her hand. ‘Family stuff. So I decided to get into research.’ She hesitated once again and he was instantly curious as her eyes went up to the left for a second. Wasn’t that supposed to be a sign of thinking or processing?

They reached the top of the stairs and she took them down a different wing of the building. ‘This is the research labs.’ She gave a little smile. ‘This is where I get lost in the wonder of zebrafish and what incredible creatures they are.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘If only us humans had the power of healing and regeneration like they do.’

He stopped at the front doors of the lab and looked inside. As expected, it was white and pristine. There were several rooms. Laboratories where clinical scientists were processing blood tests. A vast room filled with computers where information was obviously being processed and analysed. In the middle of the room was an unusual spiral-shaped fish tank. Even from here he could see the tiny zebrafish swimming around.

He tilted his head to the side and looked at Cordelia curiously. It was almost as if she expected the question. ‘They teach us so much. And they give us hope. Professor Helier thought it was important that people didn’t just watch them in a lab. He wanted us all to appreciate them. That’s why he commissioned the special tank for right in the middle of the room.’

Gene nodded thoughtfully. ‘So many people are against research involving animals.’

‘And so many people would be right. Here, we don’t harm the zebrafish in any way. But we watch them. We learn from them and their DNA. And we try to replicate what they can do in a lab environment.’

He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. ‘I like the ethics here. I knew that before I came. It was one of the things that made me want to be part of the team—even if it is just for a short spell.’

Her phone pinged and she pulled it from her pocket, frowning.

‘What’s wrong?’ Her skin had paled and when she looked up her eyes were kind of watery.

She pressed her lips together. He could tell she was trying to keep it together. ‘Professor Helier’s sister has terminal cancer. She’s his only living family. He’s going to stay with her. He’s going to look after her.’

Gene felt his heart clench. It was selfish—he knew it. But part of the reason he’d come here had been to work with this man—to learn from him.

‘What does that mean?’

She blinked back the obvious tears as she tucked her phone back into her pocket. ‘It means that I’ll have to email everyone in the institute. Franc—he wants to call you tonight.’ Her bright green eyes met his. There was something in them. A wariness, but also a tiny hint of desperation. ‘The monitoring of the cardiomyopathy patients is at a really crucial stage. I suspect he’s going to ask if you’ll take over as head of the trial.’ Her voice was a little shaky.

He reached over and touched her arm. ‘Cordelia? Are you okay?’

She nodded and brushed the side of her eye. ‘Of course I am. I’m just being silly. I’m worried about Franc and how he’ll cope with nursing his sister.’ She held out her hands. ‘This place is virtually his life.’ She gave her head a shake. ‘I just don’t want to let him down in his absence. The work here is so important to so many people.’

It was the way she said the words. Everyone who worked here would be passionate about what they did. But there seemed to be a real emphasis on her words. As if there was something that he was missing.

And he got it. He got it better than anyone. Because the work on cardiomyopathy could end up being a lifeline for his son.

He watched her carefully. He could almost see her shaking off the overspill of emotions, tidying them back up and putting them in a box. His stomach roiled a little. It was the weirdest thing, but it was almost the same expression she’d had on her face at one point last night. He just couldn’t understand why.

And he definitely couldn’t understand why he was so curious.

She licked her lips and looked at him again. ‘My turn to ask the questions. I’m sure that Franc knew all this back to front. But I don’t. What’s your background?’

For a second he felt himself move into self-protect mode. The bit where he only gave the edited version of his life.

But he turned around as she led him back from the research wing and he was faced with the picture-postcard landscape again. The world was so vast out there. He was only a tiny bit of it. Why on earth did he feel he had something to hide?

He stopped walking and his fingers brushed against her elbow. She turned to face him. He almost laughed.

Yip. He was currently in a movie of his life. Cordelia was the heroine in this movie and she was standing in front of a green screen. Because this background was just too perfect to be real.

And as he stood a little longer, she began to look too perfect too. She was sharply in focus. Now he could appreciate the long, dark lashes. Now he could appreciate the smudge of red lipstick still on her lips.

Now...he was definitely losing his mind.

It was almost like hovering above and watching, instead of really taking part.

He shook his head. ‘I trained as a physician in Texas but lived my life between France and Texas. My mom—ma mère—was a French scientist. Somehow she managed to meet my rancher father and I lived between two continents.’

She tilted her head to the side. ‘Wow. That’s some childhood.’

He nodded. ‘I was lucky. I had barrel loads of love on both sides of the Atlantic. I had friends in Houston and in Paris.’

‘So what made you become a doctor?’

They walked along the corridor towards the other wing. ‘Oh, I always wanted to be a doctor. Right from when I was a little kid. My dad wanted me to take over the ranch and while I love it, my heart was never in it. Thankfully I’ve got a stepbrother who has ranch blood running in his veins.’

‘Oh, okay.’ He could see the obvious question running around in her head. He could avoid it—or ignore it—like he had before. But he had a reason for being here. He was invested in this research. And there was almost an ethical responsibility to say why.

He stopped walking. ‘Rory’s mom was a fellow doctor I met at a conference. We had a few nights together and then didn’t keep in touch. I met Rory when he was nine months old. Mindy had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. She was already in a degree of heart failure when she became pregnant and was advised not to continue with the pregnancy. I had no idea she was unwell and she didn’t listen. And she only contacted me when she’d been on the heart transplant list for a few months.’

Cordelia’s eyes were wide. He just kept going. It was easier to have it out there. ‘Three weeks later Mindy died. And it’s been just me and Rory ever since.’ He slowed down as the edges of his lips turned upwards. ‘My world.’

She didn’t speak for a few seconds, just stared at him. ‘That’s how you came into research?’

He nodded. ‘I was already in cardiology. But, you’ll understand, the clinical side is tough.’ He hadn’t asked her for her reasons for leaving her clinical role, but he’d understood the implication. People who’d spent years training to be a doctor didn’t walk away unless they had no real choice.

‘It didn’t work for me with no real help at home, covering emergencies and on calls with a baby. Research was the natural place. Find out what I needed to know, while still keeping a clinical role—in more manageable hours.’

She nodded as he continued. ‘And with the potential for Rory...’ He let his voice tail off.

The realisation didn’t take long to hit her. She worked in research. She knew exactly what he was getting at. Cardiomyopathy was a hereditary condition.

‘Rory has the gene?’

‘Rory has the gene,’ he repeated.

She didn’t hesitate. She reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘Oh, Gene. I’m so sorry.’

He drew in a deep breath. ‘So am I. But that’s life. You’ll know the odds. He had a fifty per cent chance of inheriting the gene—and he has. But so far there are no symptoms. No indication that there’s anything to worry about. That’s what I need to keep inside my head. But it doesn’t stop me making this my life’s work.’

He didn’t need to say any more. She’d know the potential. She’d know that hypertrophic cardiomyopathy was the condition frequently undetected then associated with young sportsmen suddenly dying.

That was why the ‘no symptoms’ was so important to keep in his head. Because late at night, when he looked at that gorgeous little mop of blond hair, every worst-case scenario in the world wound its way through his head.

Her voice had a sympathetic tone and he could see the understanding her eyes as she looked at him. ‘So you’re committed. You want to be here. You want to do the work.’

He could tell she was almost relieved. If he’d turned and walked out today because Professor Helier wasn’t going to be around, it could have potentially brought the research to a halt. But he’d never do that. He repeated those words. ‘I want to do the work. It’s important to me. It’s important to Rory. And it’s important to a whole host of other people all around the world affected by this disease.’ He didn’t have a single doubt about what he was saying.

She gave a nod of approval and held her hand out towards the next wing. ‘Well, in that case, Dr Du Bois, come and meet your fabulous team. And your fabulous patients.’

* * *

Her head was swimming as she pasted a smile on her face. Her heart ached for him—literally.

Now she understood—probably a whole lot better than he expected her to.

The thought that his gorgeous little son could have a ticking time bomb in his chest—similar to her own—was heart-wrenching. How must it feel to look at that little guy every day and wonder if at some point he would develop symptoms or become unwell? As a medic, one thing was crystal clear in her head. Parents shouldn’t outlive their kids. They just shouldn’t. There was something so wrong about that. Unbearable. And she wasn’t even a mother.

She’d worked with families who’d lost kids due to cardiac defects and anomalies and there was something so wrong about it all.

They walked down to the east wing—where all the patients were seen and monitored. The Rueben Institute was like many other cardiac research centres. They monitored patients with certain conditions, seeing if small lifestyle changes could have impacts on their lives, along with dietary changes and alternative therapies. They also monitored certain new medicines, making sure that patients didn’t have any side effects and comparing the differences between them and the existing medicines. There was no point introducing a new medicine to the world if it didn’t really make any improvements for patients.

There were similar institutes all over the world, but in the land of cardiac conditions, with or without any trials, patients’ conditions could change in an instant. The staff here were highly trained and the institute well equipped to deal with any emergency. Cordelia showed him from room to room.

‘We have twenty monitoring bays for the clinical trials. We also have overnight beds available with monitoring, too, for anyone feeling unwell.’

‘Who covers that?’

Cordelia dabbed an electronic tablet next to one of the doors and grabbed hold of one his hands. She pulled up a page and pressed his forefinger to the pad, shooting him a smile. ‘As quick as that—your fingerprint will open any of these. It gives a complete list of all patient details, contacts and staff on duty. At any time we have two doctors on—day and night—along with four nursing staff. We never fall under that ratio and are frequently above it.’

He frowned a little. ‘Do those numbers include you and me?’

She shook her head. ‘Oh, no. We’re supernumerary—along with all the research staff. Around fifty per cent of our researchers have a clinical background. And working here helps them maintain their clinical registrations. You’ll frequently see our researchers doing the clinical monitoring of patients.’ She tried to choose her words carefully. ‘Quite often, our clinicians have had to go into research because of health conditions of their own. Working here helps them still have the patient contact that they love, as well as contributing to improving things for patients.’

He nodded thoughtfully. ‘So, what will be expected of me while Professor Helier isn’t here?’

She tried not to pull a face, hoping that nothing she would say would make him bolt for the door. She really didn’t know much about Gene Du Bois at all. He might seem like a stand-up guy, but some people couldn’t handle pressure, and he might not like what came next.

‘Professor Helier was very hands on. Every morning he would review every patient—usually around twenty, who would be involved in research in that day. The nursing staff would highlight any issues or concerns to him, and he might end up ordering cardiac echoes, ECGs, chest X-rays and listening to chests. He frequently adjusted medications for heart failure, arrhythmias, and so on. We do have protocols for all this,’ she added quickly. ‘You wouldn’t be doing it blind.’

He gave a quick shake of his head and a wave of his hand. ‘That all sounds fine. I like patient contact.’ He gave a smile and raised his eyebrows. ‘Some people might say I even crave it. Just a check, though—what if someone needs an intervention? Do we have links with a local hospital?’

Cordelia nodded and pulled up some more information on the tablet. ‘Here’s the contact details and private consultants we deal with. If, for some reason, someone had an aneurysm or needed a bypass, we have a red-button service with a private ambulance service here, and our patients would get seen right away.’

She looked at him warily. ‘How long since your last cath lab session?’

He pulled back in surprise. ‘Two weeks. Why?’

She frowned. It wasn’t quite the answer she was expecting, even though she was secretly relieved. ‘Why two weeks?’

He shrugged. ‘I covered sessions for doctors on annual leave at my last job. It was all daytime, scheduled theatre time, so I didn’t need cover for Rory. It worked out fine. Why?’

She smiled and led him to another door. ‘Because we have our own cath lab here. It was built for emergencies but has been used on a number of occasions. Our own doctors are perfectly proficient, but it’s best if you’re up to date too. We also have an anaesthetist on call, and all our usual cardiac technicians are available whenever required.’

He stepped into the white cath lab. All the equipment was state of the art and practically sparkling. He walked around, taking slow steps, checking it out, running his fingers over the monitors before finally giving an approving nod. He opened a few drawers, looked where equipment was stored and then had a final check, familiarising himself with the contents of the cardiac arrest trolley. ‘Emergency code?’

‘Code red.’ She pointed to a phone on the wall. ‘Pick up any phone, say the words “Code red” and an announcement will come over the Tannoy. You don’t even need to give your location. It automatically identifies where you are and gives the location in the call.’

He folded his arms as he turned to face Cordelia. ‘Everything seems very well organised.’

‘I hope that it is.’

He stepped a little closer. ‘So, what will you be doing?’

She gave a nod. ‘Overseeing the whole place. Dealing with the drug companies and investors. Meeting the Japanese investors due in a few days. All the while mirroring what you’ll be doing here for cardiomyopathy in my own department for heart failure and heart regeneration studies. My clinics run in parallel with yours. We have two separate teams.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘And if I get half a chance, I might even clear Franc’s desk.’

He laughed. ‘Is it that bad?’

She shook her head as she led him back out of the cath lab. ‘Oh, no. It’s worse. Now, come along and I’ll introduce you to your team. I’ll warn you in advance. The secretary for the project, Marie, is the scariest, most organised, ruthlessly efficient human being you will ever meet.’ She bent over and whispered in his ear. ‘I think she might actually be a cyborg. But that’s another story.’

He tipped his head back and let out a hearty laugh. It was the first she’d heard since he’d got there. Her insides had been churning for a little while, hoping he wouldn’t say he didn’t want to take over Professor Helier’s clinical responsibilities. Not everyone would. But Gene Du Bois seemed completely comfortable. It was like water off a duck’s back to him. She grinned as she pushed open another door.

‘Don’t let it be said we’re not welcoming.’ A delicious smell met them. ‘This is the coffee lounge. Or the tea lounge. Or the natural fruit water lounge. Whatever your preference is—we’ll have it. And if we don’t? Let us know and we’ll order it in. We like staff to be comfortable. And well nourished. If you have dietary requirements—or if Rory has dietary requirements in day care—just let the kitchen staff know. They aim to please.’

He looked around at the comfortable red sofas, the TVs mounted on walls, the work stations with computers, and the large white tables and chairs for dining.

Cordelia kept watching him. ‘We like people to be comfortable,’ she reiterated. ‘Not everyone thrives in an office environment. Professor Helier doesn’t care where people work—just as long as they do.’

Gene nodded in approval and put his hands on his hips. ‘This sounds like a good work ethic. I could get comfortable here.’ Little crinkles appeared around his eyes as he smiled and she felt a little warmth spread throughout her belly. He was happy. Good. She wanted things to go well while Professor Helier was away. The last thing she wanted to do was phone him with some kind of disaster.

Gene strolled over to a glass jar stuffed with tiny sweets wrapped in gold foil. ‘And what are these? Some kind of treasure?’

She smiled as she joined him and stole one from the jar. ‘Gene, you’re in Switzerland. What are we famous for?’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Alps. And the Geneva Convention.’

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. ‘You Americans. Chocolate, Gene. That’s what Switzerland is famous for. Chocolate.’

She held up her little sweet and started to unwrap it. Within a few seconds the dreamy cocoa milky smell had reached them both. He even started to lean a little towards it.

His eyes started to glaze. ‘Is this really a good idea for a place that specialises in cardiac research?’

She gave a broad smile. ‘That’s why they’re tiny. Just enough to give you the magical sensation of chocolate hitting every taste bud, without sending your blood glucose spiralling and your weight out of control.’ She gave her best intelligent nod. ‘You know, research has proved that if you just take a little of what you crave, it makes management much easier.’

He made a grab for the chocolate. ‘I’ll take your word for it.’

For some reason, even though she wasn’t entirely sure of Gene, there was something very amicable about him. She felt quite safe around him. And while that might not be what some guys would want to hear, it was important to her.

She was very used to erecting walls around herself. But, after his initial reaction of ignoring her question about Rory’s mother, he’d told her—in his own time—what had actually happened. Most people probably felt sorry for him. He could easily take on the widower persona. But he didn’t. Not at all. Instead, he’d been straight about his story. There had been no great love between him and Mindy. He hadn’t even really had the chance to be angry with her. Cordelia didn’t have a single doubt that most guys would have been totally blindsided by all of it.

But Gene seemed to have taken the news about his son well. He loved his son. And whilst she was sure he wished he could change his genetic heritage, he seemed to have accepted it for what it was.

She met a lot of patients who hated what their genes meant for them. Something they could never control. Her own were the same. And she’d long since known that accepting what you couldn’t change was the biggest part of the process for some people.

Like her. Like Gene. And, eventually, hopefully like Rory.

She gave him a sideways glance as she led him down towards the offices for the clinics.

‘Maybe I should have recommended that you take a handful of chocolates to get you through the next part of the day.’

He gave her a suspicious glance. ‘What do you mean? Aren’t I just reviewing the patients and taking care of the clinic work and trial?’

She licked her lips and gave a little sigh. ‘You make it sound so simple.’

He stopped walking. ‘Isn’t it?’

She couldn’t help herself. She winked at him as she reached the doors. ‘Oh, Dr Du Bois, you have a lot to learn. Welcome to the Reuben Institute. Now, come and meet your master.’

* * *

Gene was sprawled across the sofa. Rory was also sprawled across him, sleeping, with his mouth open and drool landing on Gene’s shirt. He hadn’t even had a chance to change since they’d got home.

Cordelia appeared and took in the scene, leaning against the doorjamb and crossing her arms. At some point in the day she’d changed back into her red baseball boots. He couldn’t get over quite how quirky and cute she looked with her business-style dress and jacket, coupled with flat red baseball boots.

‘You survived?’ she asked.

He raised his eyebrows and held out his hands. ‘If I could jump off this sofa right now and chase you down, I would.’

She shook her head. ‘That’s fighting talk.’

He nodded. ‘It is. But now I’ve met your lethal weapon—Marie.’

Cordelia couldn’t pretend not to laugh. ‘I did try to warn you.’ Then she shook her head, ‘And, oh, no. She’s not mine. She’s yours. I did tell you might need chocolate to see you through.’

‘But you didn’t tell me why,’ he quipped.

She sighed and shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t. You’d just lulled me into what could be a false sense of security. You’d told me you would stay. I didn’t want to frighten you off.’

‘You just left that to Marie?’

Cordelia laughed again. ‘What can I say? She’s chewed up tougher guys than you.’ She walked over and perched on the edge of the sofa, her eyes on the sleeping figure of Rory. ‘I’m sorry. But Marie has been at the institute since the day it opened. She’s almost like the institute herself. She knows every patient. Every trial. She has the scariest but most brilliant encyclopaedic brain in the world.’

He nodded. ‘She certainly doesn’t let anyone get around her.’

Cordelia nodded. ‘And it’s not worth the energy even trying. And whatever you do—don’t use her mug. It’s the one thing that will absolutely tip her over the edge.’

He wrinkled his brow. ‘Seriously?’

She nodded. ‘Completely.’

‘Then thanks for the warning. What mug is hers?’ She could see him picturing the jam-packed cabinet in the staff kitchen.

‘Why, Dr Du Bois, couldn’t you tell just by looking?’

He narrowed his gaze. ‘I’m going to like this, aren’t I?’

She nodded again. ‘It’s Glinda. The Good Witch from the Wizard of Oz.’

His shoulders started to shake and he lifted his hand to the sleeping Rory on his chest, trying not to disturb him. ‘No way. It should be Darth Vader, or at the very least the Wicked Witch.’

Cordelia smiled. He seemed to have settled. On a few occasions she had actually been worried that Marie might chase some of the visiting doctors away. Her manner was...brusque, to say the least.

‘I agree. Now, what would you like for dinner?’

He placed his hands on Rory’s back and swung his legs around so he was finally sitting up on the sofa. ‘It’s my turn to sort out dinner—you bought pizza last night.’

‘But you’ve got your hands full.’

He shook his head. ‘But that doesn’t mean I can’t take a turn.’ He looked down and gave Rory a little shake. ‘He’s worn out from day care today. But, thankfully, he loved it.’

‘That’s great. I thought he would.’

He nodded again. ‘And you’ll see the hire company dropped off a car for me so you don’t need to ferry us around. I didn’t want to be an extra burden to you this month when you have an institute to run.’

She waved her hand. ‘It was fine. It was no problem.’ But secretly it was. She was glad he’d been thoughtful enough to hire a car. It meant she could head in early to the institute, or stay late if she needed to.

He looked up. ‘Why don’t you let me get changed and I’ll take us all to dinner. I’ll drive. You can suggest somewhere that suits.’

She looked down at her baseball boots. ‘I should change too. Shouldn’t really go anywhere dressed like this.’

‘Don’t. You look great.’ It came just a little too easily and she felt heat rush into her cheeks.

Rory started to wake up. ‘I’m hungry,’ he murmured.

Gene set him down on the floor. ‘Then it’s decided. Let’s go for dinner. And...’ he gave Cordelia a cheeky smile ‘... I may even tell you how I plan to conquer the mountain that is Marie.’

* * *

An hour later he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and sitting in one of the local restaurants that Cordelia had recommended. ‘The staff are great and there’s a good kids’ menu. It always seems to be full of families.’

That was recommendation enough for him and the service was quick.

She hadn’t changed. She’d kept on her red dress and her baseball boots. And even though he noticed a few raised eyebrows, Cordelia seemed immune to them. She was comfortable in her own skin. He liked that about her.

He could tell she was still a little wary around Rory. But that was fine. She didn’t have any kids of her own and some people just weren’t natural around kids. It wasn’t as if she ignored him. Or didn’t bother. It was just he could almost sense her nerves. They almost seemed to jangle when she had to interact with the little boy.

It almost felt as if there was something he just couldn’t put his finger on.

But tonight things were fine. They’d eaten dinner and, as he’d offered to drive, Cordelia had drunk a glass of wine. As they waited for Rory to eat his ice cream, he gave her a nod. ‘I know how to win her around.’

She wrinkled her nose. ‘Who?’

‘Marie.’

He could tell she was instantly amused. Marie was a hard nut to crack. From what he’d heard, Marie had broken more than a few researchers who’d dared to challenge her on something.

She folded her arms across her chest. ‘And how, exactly, are you going to win Marie around? Tell me. I’m fascinated.’

His eyes twinkled. ‘It’s simple really. She loves my accent. She’s told me more than once.’

‘But that still doesn’t mean she likes you.’ She ran her fingers up and down the stem of the wine glass.

He gave a conciliatory nod. ‘No, it doesn’t. But she will.’

Now she looked really intrigued. ‘How?’

‘I have a secret weapon.’

For a second she didn’t say anything but her eyes rested on Rory, who was busy almost examining the bottom of his ice-cream bowl to make sure he hadn’t missed any ice cream. ‘Is that fair?’ The tone of her voice was a little strange.

He didn’t push her on the tone. He just leaned back in his chair. ‘I’m bringing out my secret weapon. I’m going to go full cowboy on her.’

‘What?’ Several people in the restaurant turned around at the rise in her voice.

He laughed ‘Yip. I’m wearing my Stetson tomorrow. Probably the boots, maybe even the jeans. What do you think?’

‘You’re serious?’ She had the strangest expression on her face.

He leaned forward a little, catching a whiff of her orange-scented perfume. ‘Of course I’m serious. What did you think I meant?’

She gave a little shrug but she didn’t meet his gaze. ‘Oh, I don’t know. I thought you might have been using Rory.’ She pointed across the table. ‘I mean, one look at his gorgeous little face and...’

Gene followed her gaze across the table, where by this point Rory had ice cream on his face, his hands and his T-shirt. But you’d never know, because he was still concentrating so completely on the tiniest bit of ice cream at the bottom of the bowl.

‘Everyone’s a sucker,’ he finished for her.

His heart squeezed. Even though she wasn’t that easy around Rory it was clear she could see the appeal that made him thankful every single day that he’d found this little boy.

He turned to Rory and lifted the bowl away from him. ‘Give me that before you start licking the bowl.’ He wiped Rory’s face and hands with a napkin. ‘Time to go home, champ.’ He raised his fist and Rory bumped his against his dad’s.

‘What is that?’ asked Cordelia.

‘The fist bump? That’s just us. That’s our move.’

‘Your move?’

Rory wriggled out of his seat and Gene followed, picking up the bill from the table. ‘You know, everyone has a move, or a saying, something like that.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘They do?’

He nodded. ‘Of course. Don’t you?’

She frowned for a second. ‘I don’t think so.’

He nodded as he settled the bill. ‘Leave it with me. I bet you’ve got one. I’ll figure it out.’

They walked out to the car and Gene strapped Rory in before making a grab for something in the back seat before Cordelia had even managed to climb in.

His Stetson. He plonked it on his head with a cheeky wink. ‘Is that fair? Going full cowboy on her? Like I said, I’ll even wear my boots and jeans if you think it will help.’

Cordelia laughed out loud. ‘You really are going to wear that to the institute tomorrow?’

He tipped his Stetson towards her. ‘I told you, it’s my lethal weapon.’

He watched her suck in a breath as his eyes connected with hers. He was joking. Of course he was joking. So why had his heart rate just quickened? Ridiculous. It was like being a teenager again.

He shook his head as he took off his Stetson and climbed back into the car. He was only here for a month. He had work to do. And a child to look after. He couldn’t afford any distractions.

But as Cordelia hitched up her dress to climb into the car, he had a distinct flash of toned, tanned leg.

And try as he may, he couldn’t get it out of his head on the drive home.

CHAPTER THREE

CORDELIA SIGHED AND leaned against the wall as she checked the chart again. One of her patients was failing. Truth was, most of the patients in the heart failure study were failing—that was why they were here.

But Jonas Delphine was one of her favourites. He was an old sea captain, eighty-six, and had smoked for forty years. His chest complaints, along with his cardiovascular disease and heart failure, made him a difficult candidate to manage.

Some trials only wanted ‘perfect’ candidates. Ones who had no other health complaints but who had unhealthy lifestyle issues that could be changed and monitored then assessed to within an inch of their lives. But the Reuben Institute didn’t work with unrealistic patients. What was the point of that? More complicated patients meant more bias for the trials. Some people didn’t like that. Some drug companies definitely didn’t like it. But Professor Helier had always been clear. The institute was here to help real patients. Not perfect ones who didn’t really exist.

Now, after listening to Jonas’s heart and lungs, she’d just ordered another chest X-ray and echo cardiogram.

‘Something wrong?’ Gene’s voice made her jump.

She couldn’t help but grin at the sight of him. He’d been a man of his word and had come to the institute this morning full cowboy.

The patients loved it. The staff loved it. The Stetson, cowboy boots and jeans had certainly made their mark. Even the normally frosty Marie had seemed to like his unusual appearance.

Gene was still wearing his Stetson and tipped it towards her. ‘Cordelia?’

She held up the electronic tablet. ‘Nothing that a new heart won’t cure.’ She straightened up. ‘Actually, now that you’re here, you can give me a second opinion on someone.’

He held up his electronic tablet. ‘Great minds think alike. I was just coming to get you to do the same.’

A tiny surge of pride welled in her stomach. She was pleased. Pleased that he’d came to her for a second opinion on one of his patients. Hopefully, that meant he thought she might be a good clinician.

They swapped tablets. ‘You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine.’

‘Aryssa Maia, forty-seven, hypertrophic cardiomyopathy. She’s had unsuccessful ablations for atrial fibrillation and she can’t tolerate the usual drugs. She also has a permanent pacemaker in place. I’ve checked her previous scans and just listened to her chest. I think her ventricle is getting to the stage it is barely functioning. She’s symptomatic, breathless and tired, with swollen extremities.’

She nodded. ‘I have a similar case. Jonas Delphine is eighty-six, with existing COPD and chronic heart failure. I think I’m going to have to take him off the study and put him on IV steroids and diuretics. In the space of one day he’s gone downhill fast.’

Gene nodded slowly. She knew he understood. The patient’s welfare was always their prime concern. But the regulations for any research study were strict. They didn’t want any findings skewed. If they used certain other drugs on patients then they were taken off the study programme. It was important that any improvement in a patient’s current condition was only attributed to the drug being studied—not to any other intervention made.

Cordelia sighed as she looked at Aryssa’s chart. ‘She was doing so well,’ she said sadly. ‘I really thought that this might be the one drug that could make a difference for her.’

Gene ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I get that. But my gut is telling me that something else is going on. I almost feel as if her pacing wire has moved. Her heart just isn’t functioning the way it should be.’

He glanced at Jonas’s chart and smiled. ‘Why do I feel as if this guy could teach me everything I need to know about life?’

‘He probably could. I’m not ashamed to say I love him and have a completely unnatural bias towards him.’ She lifted her hand. ‘That’s why I’m checking for a second opinion. I need someone who can just look at the clinical signs.’ She gave a slow nod and handed back Aryssa’s notes. ‘And as for your patient, I agree, she needs an ECG and a cardiac echo. I suspect her pacing wire has moved too. That’s what fits the symptoms, rather than anything happening within the trial.’

He gave a nod. ‘I ordered the tests. Just wanted to double check.’ He kept a hold of Jonas’s tablet. ‘Now, let’s go meet your patient, while mine has her investigations.’

* * *

Things moved so swiftly here. He was secretly pleased that Cordelia had come to him for a second opinion. By the time he’d sounded Jonas’s chest and looked at his hands and ankles, the nurse from his part of the clinic had brought along Aryssa’s ECG. It couldn’t be clearer. The pacing wire definitely wasn’t capturing, meaning Aryssa’s heart rate was erratic and low. Both he and Cordelia nodded.

‘I’ll come back and speak to her. But can you attach her to a portable cardiac monitor in the meantime and ask them to put a rush on that cardiac echo?’

The nurse gave a nod. ‘I’ll take her for the echo now.’

He gave Cordelia a nod and walked through to the treatment room. ‘It looks like we’re both about to lose patients from our trials. Jonas needs some IV steroids and diuretics.’

Her eyes were downcast for a moment. It probably wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But he knew she would always put the patients first. That’s the way it should be. Research work always brought these challenges and any medic who worked on the trials knew that.

She looked back up, nodding and opening the drug cupboard. ‘I’ll draw them up. Can you prescribe them on the tablet? Thanks.’

He gave her a nod and checked the bottles with her as she drew up the medicines. He couldn’t pretend not to notice the slight shake of her hands. ‘How about I do this for you? You can distract Jonas and persuade him this is a good idea.’

She sucked in a deep breath and let her hands rest back down on the counter top. ‘Do you know what? I’d like that. Thank you.’ She gave him a small smile and his insides clenched. He got the distinct impression that Cordelia Greenway didn’t normally let anyone help her. But from the way her jaw had been clenched and the shake in her hands he knew she was emotional about this. He knew she felt connected to this old guy. She’d worked here for four years. She might even have known him that long.

It was hard not to get attached to patients you saw on a regular basis, let alone nearly every day. It was harder still if those patients condition got worse—which inevitably frequently happened to doctors.

He understood. He’d been there and felt it himself. For the last few years he’d moved from place to place. All of his emotional investment had been in Rory. That’s the way it had to be. He’d had to learn to be mom and dad to the little guy. He’d always done a good job by his patients, but he hadn’t been around long enough to form lasting relationships.

And he missed that. He couldn’t pretend that he didn’t.

He moved his hand to lift the tray with the syringe and Venflon but Cordelia’s was still there. His first instinct was to pull away, but instead he put his hand over hers and left it there as she gave a little sad sigh.

She didn’t object. She didn’t jerk away. The heat of her hand filled his palm in a way he hadn’t expected.

It had been a long time since he’d touched a woman—held a woman. Of course he touched patients every day. But relationships in the last three years just hadn’t been possible. He didn’t want to be the guy who introduced Rory to a new girlfriend every few months so it had been easier just to let that part of his life slide.

So...this was different. Not new exactly, but just different. And up until this moment he hadn’t realised how much he’d missed connecting with someone.

She gave the briefest nod of her head and he knew it was time to pull away. He lifted his hand and let hers slide out from underneath his, picked up the tray, and gave her a conciliatory nod. ‘Let’s go and make Jonas feel better.’

* * *

It was the little things that made you realise how thoughtful someone could be. Her insides had twisted and turned at the thought of being the person who would deliver the treatment to end Jonas’s time on the trial. She knew it was essential. She knew it was the right thing to do. But part of her had ached, knowing she would have to be the one to do it.

The thought of not seeing him five days a week made her sad. After four years she was sure Jonas still had a world of stories to tell her. His cheery nature in the face of his heart failure made her feel more positive about her own condition.

She had to have hope. She had to feel as if one day her Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome wouldn’t cause some odd arrhythmia that would send her heart into a whole host of problems. For some people with her condition it could lead to death.

Five years ago her physician had sat her down and given her the news she’d known would be coming. She should look at a permanent contraception choice. Her Wolff-Parkinson–White syndrome was progressing. Her condition was unpredictable. What was certain was that the extra stress and increase in pressure of a pregnancy would cause huge strain on her already struggling heart. Pregnancy was out of the question. She’d never have a family of her own.

She’d been living with a fellow researcher then. Han. They’d been working together in London and their relationship had just developed slowly. She’d liked that. He’d known about her condition and had helped her through difficult spells.

But the news from the consultant had been a turning point. Han had backed off, slowly but surely. Never with malice. But his plans for the future included a family. And as he’d drifted away she’d felt more and more hurt. More and more like less of a woman. Less of a partner.

She’d had to learn to accept that a family wouldn’t be in her future. She’d had to accept that any potential relationship would have to be one where she had that difficult up-front conversation. The one where she’d have to admit she was unsure what the future with her cardiac condition would look like.

In the meantime, she’d thrown herself into work. Her almost safe place. But every now and then, when a patient’s condition worsened at the clinic, it always brought home to her the fact that one day that could be her.

So she was grateful to Gene for the offer. And he’d been true to his word. He’d charmed Jonas and given him time to express his sadness at having to leave the trial before graciously accepting the other treatment that he needed. Gene kept him distracted with cowboy-type stories as he slowly administered the medicine to Jonas.

They’d just finished up when one of the other nurses came rushing in. ‘Dr Du Bois? We need you now. Aryssa has become unwell during her cardiac echo.’

Both of them moved at once, walking down the long white corridor rapidly. Gene reached the room first. He moved swiftly around Aryssa and examined her, taking in her vital signs. ‘She’s bradycardic,’ said Cordelia, moving to the other side of the bed.

The sonographer was pale-faced next to the bed. ‘She just seemed to fade while we were doing the echo,’ he said.

‘What did it show?’ asked Gene.

The sonographer gave him a serious look. ‘What you expected. The pacing wire has moved.’

Gene frowned as Aryssa’s eyes flickered open. ‘It’s odd. That’s unusual. A pacing wire shouldn’t move.’

Cordelia put her hand on Aryssa’s shoulder. ‘Aryssa, how are you feeling?’

The heart rate on the monitor seemed to rise for a few seconds. ‘Not good,’ she whispered.

Cordelia nodded. ‘Don’t worry. We’ll look after you. But has anything happened in the last day or so that could have dislodged your pacing wire?’

Aryssa lifted her hand to her chest. ‘I had an accident in the car on the way to the institute this morning. It was only a small bump, but the airbag exploded.’

Gene shot Cordelia a look. ‘Did the airbag hit you?’

Aryssa winced. ‘Yes. But I got more of a fright because of the noise. And the powder.’ She closed her eyes again, obviously exhausted just answering those few questions.

They moved outside into the corridor.

Gene didn’t hesitate. ‘That’s enough for me. We need to insert a new pacing wire. She’s too symptomatic to move her elsewhere.’

It was the weirdest feeling. All of a sudden she almost felt as if she were a spectator instead of part of the situation. As if she were dangling up somewhere in the corner of the room, watching everything.

She couldn’t remember the last time there had been an emergency in the clinic. Not like this anyway.

Everything she’d ever learned at medical school decided to fly out of her head in an instant. She couldn’t tell a clavicle from a femur, or an atrium from a liver lobe.

Crap. She’d never panicked as a medical student. She’d always been one of the calmest in the class. While others had fainted at the sight of blood, or any other body fluid, Cordelia had just wondered why on earth they wanted to be doctors.

So what was wrong with her now?

One of the clinic nurses appeared at her side. ‘Are we pacing?’

Simple words. And that was all it took. Her brain shifted gear.

Gene walked into the next-door cath lab. His actions were automatic. It was clear he’d dealt with this situation before. He pulled over a trolley and set out the equipment. He nodded to the nurse. ‘Can you bring the patient in, please, and we’ll explain what we need to do.’

Cordelia moved over to the sink and started scrubbing her hands. A temporary pacing wire wasn’t performed in a traditional operating theatre, but the cath lab was as good as it got around here. The wire went straight into a central vein, and everything had to be done aseptically to protect the patient from infection.

The nurse wheeled Aryssa in. She was lying on her back, her face pale and sweating. She was already attached to a portable cardiac monitor showing her very slow heartbeat and low blood pressure.

Gene gave Cordelia a nod. He moved over and took Aryssa’s hand. He mouthed one word to her. ‘Cold.’

Cordelia pressed her lips together. Cold extremities meant that the blood flow just wasn’t getting enough power to circulate properly. She dried her hands and held them out in front of her to where the nurse was holding out a disposable surgical gown. Next came the gloves then she checked the equipment on the trolley.

‘Percutaneous sheath, bipolar pacing catheter and bridging cables and pacing box.’ She murmured the contents out loud, mentally ticking them off in her head.

Gene spoke quietly to Aryssa. ‘Aryssa, I know you might be feeling light-headed. We’re sure that your pacing wire has moved. We’re going to insert a temporary pacing line to get your heart back on track. You’ll probably be a little woozy until we get this sorted. But trust us. We’ve got this.’

Aryssa’s eyes were closed but she tossed her head from side to side. ‘But I’ll be flung off the trial. I don’t want that. The drug is the only thing that’s worked for me.’

Gene met Cordelia’s gaze. Her heart gave a little flutter inside her chest and that made her freeze. Oh, no. Not now. Not here.

He spoke smoothly. ‘Aryssa, with a heartbeat of around forty we couldn’t let you stay in the trial. We’ve got to keep you healthy. This isn’t something we can debate. You need this procedure.’

A tear trickled down Aryssa’s cheek and Gene clasped her hand tightly while looking at Cordelia. It was awful. Aryssa had been doing so well on the trial. The new drug seemed to be having a good effect on her. Her symptoms had diminished over the last few weeks and up until the last day her heart function had looked a little better.

Hypertrophic cardiomyopathy could throw up a whole host of problems, depending on which part of the heart was most affected. Right now, they had no way of reversing the condition, but this drug had actually looked as though it could slow and stabilise the condition, optimising the output of the heart.

Gene looked so conflicted. She could almost see what he was seeing—Rory on the bed instead of Aryssa. It must be breaking his heart.

For a few seconds his dark brown gaze intersected with hers. He wasn’t a doctor right now, he was a parent. It was like seeing the window to his soul. His hopes and fears all tumbling over and over. She gave him the briefest nod of acknowledgement and it was almost like flicking a switch.

His doctor face fell back into place.

‘What site?’ asked Gene.

Cordelia breathed deeply, focused and ran her eyes over her patient as the sonographer appeared. She gave him a grateful smile and a nod as he moved into position without even speaking.

She looked at Aryssa’s neck. There was a small white scar at her neck—obviously the place of the last insertion. The right internal jugular vein was the preferred option due to the ease of positioning the wire into the right ventricle. But since it had already been used there was a risk of scar tissue. She wanted this procedure to go smoothly.

She could see Gene’s eyes following hers. ‘Looks like the left subclavian is our best option,’ she said.

The nurse gave a nod and eased Aryssa’s gown down from her left shoulder, giving easy access to her left clavicle and covering around the area with sterile drapes. Cordelia picked up a swab and cleansed the area, feeling with her fingers for the identifying features. She then nodded to the sonographer, who placed his probe just under the clavicle, allowing her to identify the artery and vein on the screen. As the artery and vein were so close it was important to familiarise herself with the patient’s anatomy.

She waited until the arterial wave form was shown, to differentiate between the artery and vein, then injected some local anaesthetic into the site.

Gene’s voice was low and reassuring in the background. He talked to Aryssa the whole time she lay with her eyes closed, keeping a soft grip of her hand.

Cordelia threaded the dilator into the catheter, attaching it to the needle and inserting it, waiting for the flash of blood, before continuing. She held the needle steady while advancing the wire into the vein. She then removed the needle, made a little cut with the scalpel and inserted the sheath, with the dilator in place, over the wire.

‘Almost done,’ she said quietly to Aryssa. ‘I’m just removing the wire and testing the balloon on the pacing wire.’ That only took a few minutes then she completed the procedure by inserting the wire into Aryssa. The wire was attached to the pacing box and it turned on. They watched on the screen as the balloon allowed the wire to be positioned. A few seconds later the pacing spikes appeared on the monitor, showing them that the wire was in the correct position.

Cordelia still marvelled at the technology they had these days that allowed them to do relatively complicated procedures in such a quiet and controlled environment. They waited another few minutes, watching the monitor for any potential changes. It only took a few seconds for Gene to smile and nod and for Aryssa’s cheeks to start to pink up. Her heart rate was now sitting at around seventy beats per minute. The pacing wire was doing its job.

They held steady. Waiting to ensure that everything was in place.

That was when it started. The noise like horses’ hooves in her ears. That feeling of a runaway train in her chest.

No. Please, no.

She stared down at her gloved hands, wanting to lift one to her neck. But she couldn’t. This was a sterile procedure.

She tried to take some long, slow, steadying breaths. But it was useless. She knew that. She’d dealt with this condition too long.

She kept her voice as steady as it could be. ‘Dr Du Bois, would it be possible for you to stitch the line in place for me, please?’

The nurse next to her turned her head in surprise, and Gene looked up. He gave her the strangest look. Stitching only took a matter of minutes—minutes that she didn’t feel like she had right now. It seemed odd to ask another doctor to scrub and get sterile. It would take him longer to do that than it would for her to do the stitching. But her head was starting to swim. She had to get out of here. Now.

She didn’t wait for his answer. She just turned to the nurse next to her, who was already gowned and wearing sterile gloves. ‘Could you hold this for me until Dr Du Bois is ready, please? I need to get a little air.’

The nurse moved swiftly, sliding her hands over Cordelia’s so there was no change in position. Cordelia didn’t hesitate. She turned and left as the thudding in her chest threatened to overtake her. She heard someone call her name. But she couldn’t afford to wait.

Her legs were shaking almost as much as her head. Heat swamped her and she tugged the sterile gown from her throat and sterile gloves from her hands as she staggered the last few steps to her office.

It was like a sanctuary. She didn’t even have time to close the door but slid down the wall, automatically putting her fingers to her neck to start massaging.

It was all she could think about. All she could concentrate on. Every molecule in her body had to think about those fingers. It was her own fault. She’d never left it this long before. She always dealt with the arrhythmia as soon as she’d felt it. As soon as she’d had symptoms.

She counted in her head. Slowly. One...two...three. It was impossible. Counting wouldn’t slow her heart rate. Or stop the wooziness in her head. Or the tightness in her chest.

She pictured something else. Green meadows. For as far as the eye could see. Flat green meadows. Dotted with daisies and dandelions. She sucked in a long, slow breath.

This was the place she liked to see when she needed to. It normally helped to centre her. Keep her calm. Keep her feeling in control, even though her body revolted. But this time there was a difference. This time something else was in her place. A blond-haired kid. And a broad-chested father. Smiling, laughing together. The father picking the kid up and swinging him in the air and the little guy screaming with joy.

It startled her. She’d never visualised things like this before. Her hands slid from her neck.

Her heart rate had slowed and she hadn’t even noticed. She put her fingers on her wrist and counted her pulse. Old-fashioned but effective.

She let her head sag back against the wall. The tightness in her chest eased. Thank goodness. She pulled her shirt from her body. Cold sweat was uncomfortable. She’d need to change. Just as soon as she checked on Aryssa.

Her stomach clenched.

Patient. She had to check on her patient.

* * *

Gene was dumbfounded. Had she really just left?

The nurse met his gaze. ‘She was paler than Aryssa,’ she whispered in a voice only he could hear.

He nodded and swapped sides, moving to the sink to scrub. Another nurse appeared, holding out a disposable gown for him. Within a matter of minutes he was scrubbed and gloved and talking away to a much more alert Aryssa as he placed a couple of stitches to hold the pacing wire in situ.

If the rest of the staff thought it strange that Cordelia had left in mid-procedure they didn’t say anything. But she hadn’t really left in mid-procedure. He was being hard on her. She’d completed about ninety per cent before she’d bailed. But it still didn’t make him feel any easier.

He kept talking, finished up, all the while keeping an eye on Aryssa’s ECG readouts before asking the nurse to keep her on the monitor for the next few hours. It was routine after a procedure like this and Aryssa already looked better. They would transfer her to another facility later. The pacing wire was only a temporary measure. She’d need a new permanent pacemaker in the next few days.

She reached over and touched his arm. ‘Thank you, Dr Du Bois. I feel much better. But I can’t pretend to be happy about getting flung off the trial. I’d finally found a drug that had actually improved my other systems, and probably my heart function. I feel as if—even though you’ve given me a new pacing wire—it will go downhill from here. I’ll miss the effects of that drug.’

He understood exactly what she was saying. ‘Cardiomyopathy is a complicated disease. Even when you have the gene, things can be different for every patient. You think the drug might already have helped. And those effects might last.’

Aryssa shook her head sadly. ‘I don’t think so, Doc.’ She sighed and leaned her head back against the pillows. ‘I’m just sorry this happened. All because some stray cat ran on the road in front of us.’

He wanted to tell her she could stay on the trial. He wanted to tell her there was a way around this. She’d had a pacing wire from the start. Who needed to know it had been replaced?

But Gene was far too ethical for that. The trial conditions had to be strictly adhered to. Trials were always strict—for good reason. They had to be absolutely crystal clear that any side effects or changes in a patient’s condition were caused by the new trial drug and not by anything else.

He put his hand over Aryssa’s. ‘I’m sorry, Aryssa. You know there’s nothing we can do about the rules of the trial. We have to follow them.’

A million thoughts were racing through his brain. This could be a drug that could help thousands of cardiomyopathy sufferers throughout the world. This could be the drug that could one day make a difference for his child.

He had to push all his personal feelings aside and think purely like a doctor, purely like a researcher. It was like being a coin, balancing on its edge. One tiny push could see him campaigning to keep Aryssa on the trial. And even though every professional bone in his body knew that was the wrong thing to do, the parent in him would always wonder if he should.

Aryssa was wheeled out to Recovery and Gene pulled off his gown and washed his hands again, running his fingers through his hair.

Cordelia. He had to find her. He had to ask her what on earth was going on.

He walked down the corridor towards her office, trying to play down the whole host of emotions currently circulating in his head. She was standing in front of the mirror, pulling her hair back into a ponytail. It looked a little damp. And she’d changed. She was wearing a green shirt instead of a pink one.

‘Everything okay?’

She jumped at the sound of his voice, spun around to face him and glanced down, pulling at her shirt to straighten it.

‘Have you quite finished titivating yourself?’ He wasn’t quite sure where the words had come from.

Her face fell, then he saw a sweep of anger flare in her eyes. ‘Titivating myself? Is that what you think I’m doing?’

It had been a poor choice of words. He knew that. But now he’d started, it seemed like he couldn’t stop. It was almost as if his mouth went into overdrive. ‘Well, what are you doing? You were in the middle of a procedure on a patient. I had to finish for you. I think I have a right to know.’

A scowl creased her face. Her reaction was immediate. ‘No. You don’t have any right to know anything. The pacing wire was in place and Aryssa’s heart rate had improved. I stepped out because I felt unwell for a second. That’s all. I got changed because I was uncomfortable.’

It was a plausible enough explanation. But for some reason he just didn’t buy it. He was an experienced doctor. He knew when someone was hiding something from him. And that’s exactly how he felt.

She took a deep breath. ‘How is Aryssa? I was just about to come and see her.’

He spoke carefully, trying to maintain a hint of the composure that had already slipped. ‘She’s fine. I completed the stitches and she’s in Recovery. She is still upset that she can’t stay on the trial—just like Jonas was.’

Cordelia nodded solemnly. ‘I’ll talk to them both.’

‘Shouldn’t you sit down or something if you didn’t feel well? Maybe you should eat something. Or drink something.’ It was snappy. He knew that. But he also sensed she wasn’t being up front.

She paused for a second. And he knew she was searching for something to say. It made his insides coil. Cordelia didn’t strike him as someone who would be untruthful. And if she wasn’t being untruthful? Then she was definitely hiding something from him.

‘I’m fine,’ she said quickly. ‘I feel better now.’

He couldn’t help himself. ‘So quickly?’

She nodded and picked up some papers from her desk. ‘Yes. Thank you for finishing up the procedure on Aryssa. I appreciate it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some work to do.’

She gave him a smile.

And somehow he knew she was resisting the temptation to say, ‘As do you.’

She was second in command at the institute and he’d do well to remember that.

She swept past and strode down the corridor in front of him and he couldn’t help but watch.

What did a woman like Cordelia Greenway have to hide—and why did he care?

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