Her Playboy's Proposal

Praise for Kate Hardy

‘Bound by a Baby moved me to tears many times. It is a full-on emotional drama. Author Kate Hardy brought this tale shimmering with emotions. Highly recommended for all lovers of romance.’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews

Bound by a Baby won the 2014 RoNA (Romantic Novelists’ Association) award!

‘When you pick up a romance novel by Kate Hardy you know that you’re going to be reading a spellbinding novel which you will want to devour in a single sitting, and A Christmas Knight is certainly no exception.’

—CataRomance

Sharing a room with Isla McKenna.

It was the sensible solution, Harry knew. The problem was, he didn’t feel sensible. He was already on edge about the wedding, and if they shared a bed it would be all too easy to seek comfort in her.

She’s your colleague, he reminded himself. Off limits. She wants a relationship just as little as you do. Keep your distance.

He’d just about got himself under control by the time he’d changed into the tailcoat, wing-collared shirt and cravat his father had asked him to wear. He left the top hat on the bed for the time being, took a deep breath and knocked on the bathroom door.

‘Isla, I’m ready whenever you are,’ he said, ‘but don’t take that as me rushing you. There’s plenty of time. I just didn’t want you to feel that you had to be stuck in there while I was faffing about in the other room.’

She opened the door. ‘I’m ready,’ she said softly.

Harry had never seen Isla dressed up before. He’d seen her wearing jeans and a T-shirt, and he’d seen her in her uniform at the hospital. On every occasion she’d worn her hair pinned back and no make-up, not even a touch of lipstick.

Today she was wearing a simple blue dress that emphasised the colour of her eyes, a touch of mascara, the lightest shimmer of lipstick—and she looked stunning. Desire rushed through him, taking his breath away. How had he ever thought that Isla would be safe? He needed to get himself under control. Now.

Dear Reader,

Her Playboy’s Proposal is all about trust—learning to trust again when someone’s let you down, and learning to trust yourself when you think you’re the one who’s let everyone down.

And how do you learn to trust? In Harry and Isla’s case, they discover that love is the answer. Except they take a while to realise it—and it takes a life-changing moment to make them both realise that they can trust each other and themselves.

The story’s set partly in Cornwall (if you’re thinking Poldark—absolutely!), partly in London and partly on the coast in Dorset. And there are weddings, best men, best women and a speech I really, really enjoyed writing.

I hope you enjoy Harry and Isla’s journey.

I’m always delighted to hear from readers, so do come and visit me at www.katehardy.com.

With love,

Kate Hardy

About the Author

KATE HARDY has always loved books, and could read before she went to school. She discovered Mills & Boon books when she was twelve, and decided that this was what she wanted to do. When she isn’t writing Kate enjoys reading, cinema, ballroom dancing and the gym. You can contact her via her website: www.katehardy.com.

Her Playboy’s Proposal

Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my fellow Medical authors—because you’re a really lovely bunch and I’m proud to be one of you. xxx

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Kate Hardy

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

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

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

ISLA TOOK A deep breath outside the staffroom door. Today was her second day at the emergency department of the London Victoria Hospital, and she was still finding her place in the team. She’d liked the colleagues she’d met yesterday, and hopefully today would go just as well—with new people who didn’t know her past and wouldn’t judge her. She pushed the door open, then smiled at the nurse who was checking the roster on the pinboard. ‘Morning, Lorraine.’

‘Morning, Isla. You’re on cubicles with Josie and Harry the Heartbreaker this morning,’ Lorraine said.

‘Harry the Heartbreaker?’ Isla asked.

Lorraine wrinkled her nose. ‘I guess that’s a bit of a mean nickname—Harry’s a good doctor and he’s great with patients. He listens to them and gives them a chance to talk.’

‘So he’s very charming, but he’s a bit careless with women?’ Isla knew the type. Only too well.

‘Harry dates a lot,’ Lorraine said. ‘He doesn’t lead his girlfriends on, exactly, but hardly anyone makes it past a third date with him.’

And lots of women saw him as a challenge and tried to be the exception to his rule, Isla guessed. ‘Uh-huh,’ she said. She certainly wouldn’t be one of them. After what had happened with Stewart, she had no intention of dating anyone ever again. She was better off on her own.

‘OK, so he’d be a nightmare to date,’ Lorraine said with a wry smile, ‘but he’s a good colleague. I’m sure you’ll get on well with him.’

So professionally their relationship would be just fine; but it would be safer to keep Harry the Heartbreaker at a distance on a personal level. Isla appreciated the heads-up. ‘Everyone else in the department has been lovely so far,’ she said, smiling back. ‘I’m sure it will be fine.’

Though she hadn’t been prepared for quite how gorgeous Harry the Heartbreaker was when she actually saw him. The expression ‘tall, dark and handsome’ didn’t even begin to do him justice. He would’ve been perfectly cast as one of the brooding heroes of a television costume drama, with dark curly hair that was a little too long and flopped over his forehead, dark eyes, a strong jaw and the most sensual mouth she’d ever seen. On horseback, wearing a white shirt, breeches and tailcoat, he’d be irresistible.

Harry the Heart-throb.

Harry the Heartbreaker, she reminded herself.

Luckily Josie had already triaged the first patient and was ready to assist Harry, which meant that Isla had enough time to compose herself and see the next patient on the list.

Harry was a colleague and that was all. Isla had no intention of getting involved with anyone again, no matter how gorgeous the man looked. Stewart had destroyed her trust completely, and that wasn’t something she’d be able to put behind her easily.

Harry finished writing up his notes and walked into the corridor to call the next patient through. He knew that Josie had gone to triage her next patient, so he’d be working with the newest member of the team, Isla McKenna. He’d been on leave yesterday when she’d started at the London Victoria and knew nothing about her, other than that she was a senior nurse.

He eyed the nurse in the corridor with interest. Even without the double giveaways of her name and her accent, he would’ve guessed that Isla McKenna was a Scot. She had that fine porcelain skin, a dusting of freckles across her nose, sharp blue eyes and, beneath her white nurse’s cap, dark red hair that he’d just bet looked amazing in the sunlight. Pure Celt. It was a long time since he’d found someone so instantly attractive. Not that he was going to act on it. For all he knew, she could already be involved with someone; the lack of a ring on her left hand meant nothing. ‘Isla McKenna, I presume?’ he asked.

She nodded.

‘Harry Gardiner. Nice to meet you. How are you settling in to the ward?’ he asked as they walked down to the cubicles together.

‘Fine, thanks. The team seems very nice.’

‘They’re a good bunch,’ he said. ‘So where were you before you moved here?’

‘Scotland,’ she said, her face suddenly shuttering.

Clearly she thought he was prying and she’d given him as vague an answer as she could without being openly rude. ‘Uh-huh,’ he said, lightly. ‘Just making polite conversation—as you would with any new colleague.’

She blushed, and her skin clashed spectacularly with her hair. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,’ she muttered.

‘Then let’s pretend we’ve never spoken and start again.’ He held out his hand. ‘Harry Gardiner, special reg. Nice to meet you, and welcome to the London Victoria.’

‘Isla McKenna, sister. Thank you, and nice to meet you, too,’ she said.

Her handshake was firm, and Harry was surprised to discover that his skin actually tingled where it touched hers.

Not good.

He normally tried not to date colleagues within his own department. It made things less complicated if his date turned out to have greater expectations than he wanted to fulfil—which they usually did. And instant attraction to the newest member of their team definitely wasn’t a good idea.

‘So who’s next?’ he asked. Hopefully focussing on work would get his common sense back to where it should be—firmly in control of his libido.

‘Arthur Kemp, aged seventy-three, suspected stroke,’ Isla said, filling him in. ‘The paramedics did a FAST assessment—’ the Face Arm Speech Test was used in cases of suspected stroke to check whether the patient’s face seemed to fall on one side or if they could smile, whether they could hold both arms above their head, or if their speech was slurred ‘—and they gave him some aspirin on the way here. I’ve done an initial assessment.’

‘ROSIER?’ Harry asked. Recognition of Stroke in the Emergency Room was a standard protocol.

She nodded. ‘His score pretty much confirms it’s a stroke. I checked ABCD2 as well, and the good news is that his score is nil on the D—he’s not diabetic. His blood sugar is fine.’

Harry picked up immediately what she was telling him—there was only one section of the test with a nil score. ‘So the rest of it’s a full house?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ she said. ‘He’s over sixty, he has high blood pressure and residual weakness on his left side, and the incident happened over an hour ago now.’

‘Which puts him at higher risk of having a second stroke in the next two days,’ Harry said. ‘OK. Does he live on his own, or is he in any kind of residential care?’

‘He has a flat where there’s a warden on duty three days a week, and a care team comes in three times a day to sort out his meals and medication,’ Isla told him. ‘They’re the ones who called the ambulance for him this morning.’

‘So if he did have a second stroke and the warden wasn’t on duty or it happened between the care team’s visits, the chances are he wouldn’t be found for a few hours, or maybe not even overnight.’ Harry wrinkled his nose. ‘I’m really not happy with that. I think we need to admit him to the acute unit for the next couple of days, so we can keep an eye on him.’

‘I agree with you. His speech is a little bit slurred and I’m not happy about his ability to swallow,’ Isla added. ‘He said he was thirsty and I gave him a couple of sips of water, but I’d recommend putting him on a drip to prevent dehydration, and keep him nil by mouth for the next two or three hours. Nobody’s going to be able to sit with him while he drinks and then for a few minutes afterwards to make sure he’s OK—there just won’t be the time.’

‘Good points, and noted.’

Mr Kemp was sitting on a bed, waiting to be seen.

Isla introduced him quickly. ‘Mr Kemp, this is Dr Gardiner.’

‘Everyone calls me Harry,’ Harry said with a smile. ‘So can you tell me about what happened this morning, Mr Kemp?’

‘I had a bit of a headache, then I tripped and fell and I couldn’t get up again,’ Mr Kemp said. ‘My carer found me when she came in to give me my tablets and my breakfast.’

Isla noticed that Harry sat on the chair and held the old man’s hand, encouraging him to talk. He was kind and waited for an answer, rather than rushing the patient or pressuring him to stop rambling and hurry up. Lorraine had been spot on about his skills as a doctor, she thought. ‘Can you remember, either before or after you fell, did you black out at all?’ Harry asked. ‘Or did you hit your head?’

Arthur looked confused. ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think I blacked out and I don’t remember hitting my head. It’s hard to say.’ He grimaced. ‘Sorry, Doctor. I’m not much use. My daughter’s husband says I’m an old fool.’

So there were family tensions, too. The chances were, if they suggested that he went to stay with his family for a few days, the answer would be no—even if they had the room to let the old man stay. ‘Don’t worry, it’s fine,’ Harry reassured him. ‘I’m just going to do a couple of checks now to see how you’re doing. Is that OK?’

‘Yes, Doctor. And I’m sorry I’m such a nuisance.’

Either the old man was used to being made to feel as if he was a problem, or he was habitually anxious. Or maybe a bit of both, Harry thought. He checked Mr Kemp’s visual fields and encouraged him to raise his arms; the residual weakness on Mr Kemp’s left side that Isla had mentioned early was very clear. And there was a walking frame next to the bed, he noticed. ‘Do you normally walk with a frame?’

‘Yes, though I hate the wretched thing.’ Arthur grimaced. ‘It always trips me up. It did that this morning. That’s why I fell. Useless thing.’

Harry guessed that Mr Kemp did what a lot of elderly people did with a walking frame—he lifted it and carried it a couple of centimetres above the ground, rather than leaving the feet on the floor and pushing it along and letting it support him. Maybe he could arrange some support to help the old man use the frame properly, so it helped him rather than hindered him.

‘Can you see if you can walk a little bit with me?’ he asked.

He helped Mr Kemp to his feet, then walked into the corridor with him, encouraged him to turn round and then walk back to the cubicle. Harry noticed that his patient was shuffling. He was also leaning slightly to the left—the same as when he was sitting up—and leaning back slightly when he walked. Harry would need to put that on Mr Kemp’s notes to be passed on to any carers, so they could help guide him with a hand resting just behind his back, and stop him as soon as he started shuffling and encourage him to take bigger steps.

Once Mr Kemp was seated safely again, Harry said, ‘I’m going to send you for an MRI scan, because you had a headache and I want to rule out anything nasty, but I think Sister McKenna here is right and you’ve had a small stroke.’

‘A stroke?’ Arthur looked as if he couldn’t quite take it in. ‘How could I have had a stroke?’

‘The most likely cause is a blood clot that stopped the blood supply to your brain for a little while,’ Harry explained. ‘It should be cleared by now because you’re able to walk and talk and move your arms, but I’m going to admit you to the acute medical unit so we can keep an eye on you for a day or two.’ He decided not to tell Mr Kemp that his risk of a second stroke was higher over the next day or two; there was no point in worrying the poor man sick. Though his family would definitely need to know. ‘Has anyone been in touch with your family?’

‘Sharon, my carer—she should have rung my daughter, but Becky’ll be at work and won’t be able to come right away.’ He grimaced. ‘I feel bad about taking her away from her job. Her work is so important.’

‘And I bet she’ll think her dad is just as important as her job,’ Isla said reassuringly.

‘Too right,’ Harry said. Even though he didn’t quite feel that about his own father. Then again, Bertie Gardiner was more than capable of looking after himself—that, or his wife-to-be Trixie, who was a couple of years younger than Harry, could look out for him.

He shook himself. Not now. He wasn’t going to think about the upcoming wedding. Or the fact that his father was still trying to talk him into being his best man, and Harry had done that job twice already—did he really need to do it all over again for his father’s seventh wedding? ‘We’ll have had your scan done by the time your daughter comes to see you,’ Harry said, ‘and we’ll be able to give her a better idea of your treatment plan.’

‘Treatment?’ Mr Kemp asked.

‘The stroke has affected your left side, so you’ll need a little bit of help from a physiotherapist to get you back to how you were before the stroke,’ Harry said. ‘I’m also going to write you up for some medication which you can take after your scan.’

‘Is there anything you’d like to ask us?’ Isla asked.

‘Well, I’d really like a nice cup of tea,’ Mr Kemp said wistfully. ‘If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.’

‘We can sort that out in a few minutes, after you’ve had your scan,’ Isla said. ‘At the moment you’re finding it hard to swallow and I don’t want you to choke or burn yourself on a hot drink, but we’ll try again in half an hour and you might be able to swallow better by then. And I’ll make sure you get your cup of tea, even if I have to make it myself.’

‘Seconded,’ Harry said, ‘though I’ll admit my tea isn’t the best and you’d be better off with coffee if I’m the one who ends up making it.’ He smiled at the old man. ‘We’ll get things sorted out and make sure your daughter finds you.’ He shook the old man’s hand and stood up. ‘Try not to worry. We’ll make sure you get looked after properly.’

‘I’ll be back with you in a second, Mr Kemp,’ Isla said, and followed Harry out of the cubicles.

‘Can you organise a scan and then transfer him to the acute unit?’ he asked quietly when they were outside the cubicle.

She smiled at him. ‘Sure, no problem.’

Her smile transformed her face completely. Harry felt the lick of desire deep inside his gut and had to remind himself that his new colleague might be gorgeous, but she was also off limits. ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘I’ll write everything up.’

It was a busy morning, with the usual falls and sprains and strains, and a six-month-old baby with a temperature that wouldn’t go down and had then started having a fit. The baby’s mother had panicked and asked a neighbour to drive them in rather than waiting for an ambulance, and the triage team had rushed her straight into the department.

The baby’s jaws were clenched firmly together, so Harry looked at Isla and said quietly, ‘Naso-pharyngeal, I think.’

Almost as soon as he’d finished talking, she had an appropriately sized tube in her hand and was lubricating the end. Between them, they secured the baby’s airway and gave her oxygen, and Isla was already drawing up a phial of diazepam.

Clearly she’d come across convulsions in babies before.

Between them, they checked the baby’s blood glucose and temperature.

‘Pyrexia,’ Harry said softly. ‘I’m pretty sure this is a febrile convulsion.’

‘So we need to cool her down and check for infection,’ Isla said. At his nod, Isla deftly took off the baby’s sleep-suit and sponged her skin with tepid water while Harry checked with the baby’s distraught mother when she’d last given the baby liquid paracetamol. Once the fit had stopped and the baby’s temperature spike had cooled, Isla prepared everything for an infection screen.

‘I’ve never seen anything like that before. Is Erin going to be all right?’ the baby’s mother asked.

‘She’s in the best place and you did the right thing to bring her in,’ Harry reassured her. ‘I think the fit was caused by her high temperature, but we need to find out what’s causing that—if it’s a virus or a bacterial infection—and then we can treat her properly.’

‘Will she have any more fits?’ Erin’s mother asked.

‘Very possibly,’ Isla said, ‘but that doesn’t mean that she’ll develop epilepsy. Having a high temperature is the most common cause of fits in children between Erin’s age and school age. We see this sort of thing a lot, so try not to worry.’

Worry, Harry thought. Parents always worried themselves sick over small children. And so did their older siblings—especially when they were supposed to be taking care of them and things went badly wrong.

He pushed the thought away. It was years ago, now, and he was older and wiser. Plus nowadays Tasha would give him very short shrift if he fussed over her too much; she was fiercely independent. And you couldn’t change the past; all you could do was learn from it. Harry had most definitely learned. He never, ever wanted to be responsible for a child in that way again.

‘I’m going to admit her,’ Harry said, ‘purely because she’s so young and it’s the first time she’s had a fit. Plus I want to find out what’s causing the infection. We’ll keep an eye on her in case she has more convulsions. But you can stay with her.’

‘I’ll take you both up to the ward and introduce you to the team,’ Isla said.

‘And she’s going to be all right?’ the baby’s mother asked again.

‘Yes,’ Harry said, and patted her arm. ‘I know it’s scary, but try not to worry.’

Ha. And what a hypocrite he was. He knew that panicky feeling all too well. Would the baby be all right? The overwhelming relief when you knew that the baby would survive. And then the guilt later on when you discovered that, actually, there was a problem after all … Harry’s mistake had come back to haunt him big time.

‘Is there anyone we can call for you?’ Isla asked.

‘My mum.’ Erin’s mother dragged in a breath. ‘My husband’s working away.’

‘OK. As soon as Erin’s settled on the ward, we’ll get in touch with your mum,’ Isla promised.

Harry worked with Isla on most of his list of patients that morning, and he liked the fact that his new colleague was incredibly calm, had a sharp eye, and her quiet and gentle manner stopped patients or their parents panicking. The perfect emergency nurse. He had no idea where she’d trained or where she’d worked before—Scotland was a pretty big area—but he’d just bet that she was sorely missed. She’d certainly be appreciated at the London Victoria.

They hadn’t had time for a coffee break all morning and Harry was thirsty and ravenous by the time he took his lunch break—late, and he knew he’d end up grabbing something fast in the canteen so he could be back on the ward in time. When he walked into the staffroom, Isla was there.

‘Hi, there. Do you want to come and grab some lunch with me?’ he asked.

She gave him a cool smile. ‘Thanks, but I don’t think so.’

He frowned. ‘Why not?’

Her expression said quite clearly, do you really have to ask? But she was polite as she said, ‘It’s nice of you to ask me, but I don’t think we’re each other’s type.’

He blinked, not quite following. ‘What?’

She looked uncomfortable. ‘I, um, might be new here, but that doesn’t make me an instant addition to a little black book.’

Then the penny dropped. She thought he was asking her out? Some of the other staff teased him about being a heartbreaker and a serial dater, but that was far from true. He always made sure that whoever he dated knew it was for fun, not for ever. And he hadn’t been asking her out on a date anyway. Obviously someone had been gossiping about him and she’d listened to the tittle-tattle rather than waiting to see for herself. ‘Actually,’ he said quietly, ‘as you’re new to the team, I was guessing that you hadn’t had time to find your way around the hospital that well yet and you might not have anyone to sit with at lunchtime, that’s all.’