Jessica Matthews - Unlocking The Surgeon's Heart

JESSICA MATTHEWS’s interest in medicine began at a young age, and she nourished it with medical stories and hospital-based television programmes. After a stint as a teenage candy-striper, she pursued a career as a clinical laboratory scientist. When not writing or on duty, she fills her day with countless family and school-related activities. Jessica lives in the central United States, with her husband, daughter and son.

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Dear Reader

I’ve always wanted to write a cancer survivor story because so many of us have had our lives touched by this disease, whether from personal experience or through the experience of a friend or family member. Finally I sensed it was time to tell the story that had been waiting patiently for its turn.

Facing a life-threatening disease takes a lot of courage, and that became the main character trait of my heroine, Christy. Her courage, however, comes at a high price, which means she needs a hero who will be strong when she needs strength, compassionate when she needs compassion, and dependable when she needs someone to depend on. Linc is her perfect partner—although Christy has a difficult time believing …

Fortunately, love conquers all. I hope you enjoy being a part of Christy and Linc’s journey as they search for and find their own happy ending.

Until next time

Jessica

This book is dedicated to cancer survivors everywhere—especially my friend Carla Maneth, who so graciously shared her experiences and insights—and to the memory of those who fought hard but didn’t win the battle—especially my mother and my father-in-law.

IT WAS a shame, really. A man as handsome as Lincoln Maguire should have a personality to match, shouldn’t he? The good doctor—and he was more than good, he was exceptional when it came to his surgical expertise—was so completely focused on his work that he wouldn’t recognize a light-hearted moment if one landed in the middle of his operating field.

Christy Michaels peered sideways at the man in question. His long, lean fingers danced across the keyboard as he clearly ignored the hospital staff’s ideas and opinions regarding Mercy Memorial’s part in Levitt Springs’ upcoming Community Harvest Festival. Apparently, talk of craft booths, food vendors, and a golf tournament to benefit the cancer center and the local Relay for Life chapter didn’t interest him enough to join in the conversation.

It wasn’t the first time he’d distanced himself from the conversations swirling around him; he was the sort who came in, saw his patients, and left, usually with few people being the wiser. Today, though, his distant demeanor—as if these details were too unimportant for his notice—coupled with her own special interest in the center and the treatment it provided, irritated her.

“I have an idea,” she blurted out, well aware that she didn’t but it hadn’t been for lack of trying. She’d been considering options—and discarding them—for weeks, because none had given her that inner assurance that “this was the one”.

Yet as voices stilled and all eyes focused on her—except for one midnight-blue pair—she had to come up with something unusual, something noteworthy enough to shock Dr Maguire into paying attention. With luck, he might even come out of his own little world and get involved.

“Make it snappy, Michaels,” Denise Danton, her shift manager, said as she glanced at her watch. “The festival committee meets in five minutes and it takes at least that long to walk to the conference room.”

Acknowledging Denise with a brief nod, she began, “It’s something we haven’t done before.”

One of the nurses groaned. “If you’re going to suggest a bachelor auction, it’s already been mentioned. Personally, I think we need a newer idea.”

Darn it, but that had been her suggestion. Rather than admit defeat, she thought fast. “We could create our own version of Dancing with the Stars . Only we would call it Dancing with the Doctors .”

Instantly, his hands slowed, and she was immensely pleased. And yet he didn’t look away from the digital pages in front of him, so maybe he was only thinking about Mrs Halliday’s chest tube and her antibiotic regimen.

“How would that work?” someone asked her.

She ad-libbed. “We’d sell tickets for the public to watch the doctors and their partners perform. People could vote for their favorite pair—making a donation for the privilege, of course—and at the end, one lucky team is crowned the winner and all proceeds benefit the hospital.”

Denise looked thoughtful. “Oh, I like that. We’d have to strong-arm enough physicians to participate, though.”

“I’m sure any of them would jump at the opportunity to raise money for a good cause. Right, Dr Maguire?” she asked innocently.

If she hadn’t taken that moment to glance directly at the side of his face, she might have missed the weary set to his mouth as well as the barely imperceptible shadow on his skin that suggested his day had begun far earlier than hers. The wisps of walnut-brown hair appearing out from under his green cap were damp, and perspiration dotted the bridge of his chiseled nose. His scrub suit was wrinkled and his breast pocket had a frayed edge at the seam.

Funny thing, but she hadn’t noticed he’d looked quite so frazzled when he’d sat in the chair.

Instantly, Christy felt guilty for distracting him. In hindsight, she realized it wasn’t his scheduled surgery day, which meant he was obviously filling in for one of his partners. It also meant he was rushing to finish the paperwork so he could see his private patients. From the volume of cases he brought to the hospital, his waiting room was probably packed and growing more so by the minute.

“Sure, why not,” he answered without any real emotion, his attention still focused on his computer screen.

“Okay, then,” she said brightly, ready to leave him to his work. “Denise, you can mention this at your meeting—”

“Dr Maguire,” the other woman said boldly, “you wouldn’t mind participating, would you?”

This time, his hands froze. To Christy’s surprise and dismay, his dark blue gaze met hers instead of Denise’s and she was sure she saw exasperation in those depths. He clearly held her responsible, not only for being interrupted but also for having to field Denise’s request.

However, when he addressed Denise, his tone was as pleasant and even-tempered as ever. “I’ll forego the spot to make room for someone who’s more capable.”

“Ability has nothing to do with it,” Denise retorted. “This is all for fun and as Christy said, it’s for a good cause.”

“But—” he began.