Jennifer Labrecque - Highland Fling

TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON

AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG

STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID

PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND

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To Dr. David K. Monson, surgeon extraordinaire.

Thank you for “rescuing” my leg

and giving it a happy ever after.

You’re my hero.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

About the Author

Coming Next Month

KATE TRACED THE PUCKERED, rough edge of the scar that ran from his side across the smooth satin of his back. He was warm and—

“Dr. Wexford, could you take a look at Mr. Chesney’s x-ray before you leave?”

—he was a figment of her imagination. The intern’s question jerked her back to the present. It was a good thing her shift was ending, if she was daydreaming by the coffee machine again. She was officially off-duty, but she could spare the time to check an x-ray. Not only did she love what she did, it was off-duty dedication that had earned her the position of assistant head of ER at Atlanta’s prestigious Walker Medical Center.

“Absolutely.” Kate drained the rest of her double latte with the espresso shot, took the film and held it up to the fluorescent light. She shook her head. Work in a city ER was neither boring nor predictable. “Did Mr. Chesney give you any indication he has a small rodent in his rectal area?”

Dave Reddick, straight out of med school, nearly choked. “No, doctor, he didn’t.”

“My guess is a female hamster, three to four months old. I think Dyer’s on the surgical rotation. See when he wants to schedule Mr. Chesney to retrieve his friend.”

Kate handed the x-ray back to the fresh-faced Reddick and headed for the door.

“Uh, Dr. Wexford?”

She stopped and turned. “Yes?”

“How’d you know?”

“The pointy nose and long tail was a dead giveaway.”

“Uh, no ma’am. I meant how’d you know it was a female, three to four months old?”

“Oh that.” Kate shrugged and smiled at the earnest resident. “I made that part up.”

Reddick’s mouth dropped open and then he recovered and offered a stilted laugh. “Right.”

“But he does need to have it surgically removed so get him scheduled.” She walked out of the break-room and ducked into the staff bathroom.

Good. It was empty. She checked her watch. Forty-five minutes. She could still make it before the museum closed, even though she’d sworn she wasn’t going back again. She shrugged out of her white coat and hung it in the locker, knowing it was inevitable.

Tonight was the last night. After tonight it was a moot point. But all day she’d felt this odd compulsion, almost, as silly as it sounded, a calling to see him one more time. No. It was beyond silly. Kate had always prided herself on her practical, pragmatic nature. She didn’t do things like show up again and again to moon over a man in a portrait. But tonight was the last night. What harm could come of one more foolish trip?

She dragged a brush through her short hair. Hmm. Time to schedule a touch-up. She had major root action going on. She dug around in her purse and pulled out her lipstick.

The door behind her opened and two women strolled in. Oh, great. Dr. Torri Campbell, the Bitch from Hell and her underling who reminded Kate of Nurse Ratchett.

Kate ignored the two women and leaned into the mirror to smooth on her lipstick.

“Hot date tonight, Dr. Wexford?” Torri arched one perfect blond brow, her green catlike eyes alight with malice.

Kate and Torri had pulled ER rotations at the same hospital out of med school and then later found themselves at Walker Medical Center vying for the same position. They’d never particularly hit it off, but once Kate had been named assistant head of ER, Torri had all but declared war.

“Yes, I do have a hot date waiting, Dr. Campbell. Thanks for asking.”

Torri, a tall statuesque blonde who used a Palm Pilot to juggle her numerous dates and men, knew good and well Kate Wexford didn’t have a date. Why break a six-month dry spell?

“New man in your life? How in the world did I miss that?” If a person could expire from sheer bitchiness, Torri would’ve been six feet under long ago.

Kate, her wicked sense of humor fully engaged, decided in for a penny, in for a pound. She imbued her shrug with just the right amount of insouciance to pique the other woman’s curiosity. “Just someone who’s been in town a few weeks. He travels often and he’s leaving again tomorrow.” The truth was getting more and more elastic, but the stretch was worth the look on Torri’s perfect features.

“Ooh.” Torri slanted her a look rife with speculation. “Where’s he from?”

“He’s a world traveler, but he’s originally from Scotland.” Okay, so there was a good chance she’d burn in hell for this, but it was just too much fun.

“Well, aren’t you the secretive one. How’d you meet him?”

“A mutual friend introduced us.”

“Blind date?” Torri eyed Kate, who was fully two inches shorter and twenty pounds heavier, as if the guy would have to be blind to continue going out with her. At least Kate didn’t target married men. She’d spotted Torri and one very married surgeon lip-locking in the parking garage last week. Not that she was in the market for either, but Kate would take a blind date over a married man any day.

“Something like that.” She shrugged into her coat. It was ridiculous that one look could negate all her achievements and reduce her once again to the short, overweight girl who’d made the grades but not the social calendar. “Got to run. I don’t want to keep him waiting.” She slung her purse over one shoulder and headed toward the door.

“Hold on.” Torri reached into her locker, pulled out a handful of condoms and stuffed them into Kate’s purse. “Friends don’t let friends head into the weekend unprotected.”

She and her underling exchanged a glance that clearly stated Torri was hot, Kate was not and that she’d need a handful of condoms was a stretch. An even bigger stretch was that she and Torri were friends.

“Thanks.” Kate opened the door.

“Sure. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” Torri offered a brittle laugh. “And that leaves it wide open.”

Maybe it was the end of a grueling twelve-hour shift, maybe it was the caffeine surge from the espresso, or maybe it was because she was no longer a sixteen year old wallflower suffering from the digs the “popular” girls had thrown at her, but she gave in to the impulse she’d squelched more than once.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stick with unmarried men.” She smiled and let the door close behind her.

God that felt good. She bypassed the parking garage. Friday rush hour was still alive and near gridlock even at this late hour. Atlanta was a great city, but the traffic was abysmal. She could hoof it or forget about making it there before it closed.