Maggie Kingsley - A Nurse to Tame the Playboy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover Page

Title Page A Nurse to Tame the Playboy Maggie Kingsley www.millsandboon.co.uk

About the Author MAGGIE KINGSLEY says she can’t remember a time when she didn’t want to be a writer, but she put her dream on hold and decided to ‘be sensible’ and become a teacher instead. Five years at the chalk face was enough to convince her she wasn’t cut out for it, and she ‘escaped’ to work for a major charity. Unfortunately—or fortunately!—a back injury ended her career, and when she and her family moved to a remote cottage in the north of Scotland it was her family who nagged her into attempting to make her dream a reality. Combining a love of romantic fiction with a knowledge of medicine gleaned from the many professionals in her family, Maggie says she can’t now imagine ever being able to have so much fun legally doing anything else!

Dedication For my father, who was always my severest critic, and who I very much hope would have enjoyed this book.

Praise for Maggie Kingsley: Praise for Maggie Kingsley: A BABY FOR EVE ‘Maggie Kingsley is a superb writer of romantic fiction…Her breathtaking storytelling prowess ensures that all of her books sparkle with terrific characterisation, nail-biting drama and outstanding emotional punch, and A BABY FOR EVE is certainly no exception! I’ve been reading category romances for a very long time, but I’ve never come across a novel that has moved me so much. A BABY FOR EVE is extremely well-written, intelligent, sensitively told, heartwarming and heartbreaking, and destined to become one of the classics of category romance.’ — Cataromance.com THE PLAYBOY CONSULTANT ‘Maggie Kingsley brings to life a heroine and a hero to cheer for, along with a host of other captivating characters.’ — RT Book Reviews

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Copyright

MAGGIE KINGSLEYsays she can’t remember a time when she didn’t want to be a writer, but she put her dream on hold and decided to ‘be sensible’ and become a teacher instead. Five years at the chalk face was enough to convince her she wasn’t cut out for it, and she ‘escaped’ to work for a major charity. Unfortunately—or fortunately!—a back injury ended her career, and when she and her family moved to a remote cottage in the north of Scotland it was her family who nagged her into attempting to make her dream a reality. Combining a love of romantic fiction with a knowledge of medicine gleaned from the many professionals in her family, Maggie says she can’t now imagine ever being able to have so much fun legally doing anything else!

For my father, who was always my severest critic, and who I very much hope would have enjoyed this book.

A BABY FOR EVE

‘Maggie Kingsley is a superb writer of romantic fiction…Her breathtaking storytelling prowess ensures that all of her books sparkle with terrific characterisation, nail-biting drama and outstanding emotional punch, and A BABY FOR EVE is certainly no exception! I’ve been reading category romances for a very long time, but I’ve never come across a novel that has moved me so much. A BABY FOR EVE is extremely well-written, intelligent, sensitively told, heartwarming and heartbreaking, and destined to become one of the classics of category romance.’

— Cataromance.com

THE PLAYBOY CONSULTANT

‘Maggie Kingsley brings to life a heroine and a hero to cheer for, along with a host of other captivating characters.’

— RT Book Reviews

Monday, 10:05 p.m.

IT WAS a truism known to every woman over the age of twenty-five, Brontë O’Brian thought wryly as she gazed down through the large observation window at the man standing below her in the forecourt of ED7 ambulance station. There were two types of men in the world. There were the dependable men, the reliable men, the men who—if you had any sense—you settled down with, and then there were men like Elijah Munroe.

‘He’s quite something, isn’t he?’ Marcie Gallagher, one of the callers from the Emergency Medical Dispatch Centre, observed wistfully as she joined her.

‘So I’ve heard,’ Brontë replied.

And not just heard. She knew exactly how tall Elijah Munroe was—six feet two—how his thick black hair flopped so endearingly over his forehead, how his startlingly blue eyes could melt ice, and how his smile always started at one corner of his mouth, then spread slowly across his face, until every woman—be she nineteen or ninety—was lost.

‘Unfortunately, Eli doesn’t do long term,’ Marcie continued, and Brontë nodded.

She knew that, too. She knew that for a couple of months every woman Elijah dated walked around on air, completely convinced he was The One, until one morning with a smile—always with that smile—he was gone.

‘I’m surprised one of his ex-girlfriends hasn’t skewered him with a surgical instrument,’ she observed, and Marcie shrugged.

‘What reason could you give? It’s not like he promises he’ll stay. He’s always upfront about not being into commitment.’

‘Very clever.’

‘Honest, surely?’ Marcie protested.

No, clever, Brontë thought firmly, as she noticed that Elijah Munroe had been joined by the head of ED7 ambulance station, George Leslie. Very clever indeed to always be able to get exactly what he wanted by appearing to be upfront and on the level, but then she’d never thought Elijah was a stupid man.

‘Only a leopard who never changes his spots,’ she muttered under her breath, but Marcie heard her.

‘You know him?’ she said, curiosity instantly plain on her lovely face, and Brontë shook her head quickly.

Which wasn’t a lie. Not a complete lie. Elijah having dated three of her ex-flatmates before just as quickly dumping them hardly qualified as knowing him, especially as the one time they’d met in Wendy’s hallway he’d walked straight past her without a word. A fact which still rankled considerably more than it should have done.

‘We’re all eaten up with curiosity, wondering who he’s been dating for the past couple of months,’ Marcie continued. ‘Normally we find out within twenty-four hours, but he’s been remarkably coy about his current girlfriend.’

Coy wasn’t a word Brontë would have used to describe Elijah Munroe. Rat fink, low-life, scumbag…Those were the words she would have used but she had no intention of telling Marcie Gallagher that.

‘It’s quarter past ten,’ she said instead. ‘I’d better get down to the bay.’

‘Can you find your own way there?’ Marcie asked. ‘I’d take you myself, but…’

‘You need to get back to EMDC for the start of your shift.’ Brontë smiled. ‘No problem.’

And Elijah Munroe wouldn’t be a problem either, she told herself as Marcie Gallagher hurried away. So what if she was going to be shadowing him around the Edinburgh streets for the next seven nights, watching his every move? She was thirty-five years old, knew exactly how he operated, how many hearts he’d broken, and that knowledge gave her power.

Oh, who was she kidding? she thought as she turned back to the observation window in time to see Elijah smile at something George Leslie had said and felt her heart give a tiny wobble. Knowing his reputation didn’t make her any less susceptible to his charm, and he had charm by the bucket load.