His Made-to-Order Bride. Jessica Matthews

was well aware of the other man’s habits. His colleague had tried to include him on some of his evenings around town, but J.D. had never taken him up on his offers. Curiosity prompted him to ask, ‘You went on a date with him, too?’

      She appeared affronted. ‘I said nearly every woman. I wasn’t his type. In any case, it’s an insult for Allan to lump you in the same category as that Romeo.’

      J.D. straightened a paperclip, then reshaped it into a square. ‘I’ll admit I wasn’t flattered by the comparison. Renting my house is also a point against me. I could skip town at a moment’s notice.’

      Her expression became thoughtful. ‘Owning property does imply a certain amount of stability. It’s also a good long-term investment.’

      ‘Yeah, I suppose,’ he said, thinking of the inherent worries associated with such a major purchase. He hadn’t avoided purchasing a house—it was just that he was satisfied with the one he had. Nor did he have any complaints against his landlord—if something needed to be fixed, Mr Hepplewhite took care of it almost immediately.

      As an added bonus, the location of his home was within walking distance of the hospital and a neighbourhood elementary school. As far as J.D. was concerned, he had an ideal arrangement.

      ‘Next you’ll tell me that I need something along the lines of a five-acre estate.’

      ‘At the very least,’ she said, a teasing glint in her eyes. ‘You could even add a few horses, a couple of cows, a dog and a family of cats, too. My neighbour has a few kittens ready to wean. Daniel would love taking care of a kitty or two.’

      ‘A dog, maybe. A cat? Forget it.’

      She chuckled. ‘Rambunctious little boys and playful puppies go together better than little boys and cats, I guess.’

      Her smile died and her voice became tentative. ‘What are you planning to do?’

      An unholy thought occurred to him. ‘Other than perform a sigmoidoscopy on Allan without anaesthetic?’

      Her grin returned. ‘Yeah. Other than that.’

      ‘I’m willing to do what I can to improve the emergency services department. I’ll buy a house, or build one if need be, but getting married is out of the question.’

      Katie turned away to rummage through a drawer. ‘You’re right. That would be the ultimate sacrifice.’

      Oddly enough, her voice sounded cool.

      ‘You’ve always been honest with me,’ he began, fearing he’d offended her in some way. ‘Surely you can see my point. My proposal should stand on its own merits and nothing else.’

      She straightened to meet his gaze. ‘I won’t argue with you. However, a few of the more conservative members may agree with Allan. You should be prepared for that eventuality.’

      ‘The board is composed of intelligent people,’ J.D. said. ‘They’ll see how much more efficient and cost-effective the ER will be if they approve my idea.’

      ‘Are you willing to gamble that your personal life won’t influence their decision?’

      Part of him was, but a small voice warned him of the perils associated with assuming how people would think. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt if he conducted a little PR of his own before his report appeared on the next board meeting’s agenda.

      The first phase of his plan included paying a visit to Dr Robert Casey, the medical director. Unfortunately, J.D.’s medical skills were constantly called for as the day unfolded and he shelved his idea for the time being.

      Around three o’clock, Katie caught him in the hallway before he could see his next patient and handed him a packet of radiology films. ‘After you’re through looking at these, I have two more kids with high temps and sore throats waiting. Can I put them in one of the trauma rooms?’

      He hated the idea of tying up their triage facilities in case a life-threatening situation arrived, yet he couldn’t accept making sick people wait unnecessarily.

      In the end, he decided to play the odds. ‘OK, but keep one available in case we get an ambulance call. Maybe I should give Yates a call so he can actually see what we deal with on a daily basis.’

      ‘Good idea, but he plays golf on Wednesday afternoons. You’ll have to catch him tomorrow.’

      ‘It figures. Must be nice to take off whenever you want.’

      ‘I’d settle for the opportunity to leave when my eight-hour shift is over.’ With that parting statement, she disappeared.

      Carrying the X-rays, J.D. strode into the cubicle where fifteen-year-old Alyssa Ford, still cradling her bandaged left hand in her lap, was waiting with her mother.

      ‘Let’s see what the pictures show,’ he said as he thrust the films into the wall-mounted viewbox. He studied them for a few minutes, then gave his diagnosis.

      ‘Your wrist is sprained, but not broken,’ he informed the teenager. ‘No volleyball for several weeks, I’m afraid.’

      ‘But the season ends next week,’ the girl protested. ‘It doesn’t feel bad if it’s wrapped. Can’t I play in the last game? I’m going to be one of the starters.’

      He shook his head. ‘I know it’s tough to be on the injured list, but if you don’t take care of yourself now you could do irreparable damage. Unless, of course, you don’t ever want to play volleyball again?’ He raised one eyebrow.

      The girl’s Cupid’s-bow mouth formed a resigned pout. ‘All right. If I have to sit out, I will.’

      ‘Check with your family physician in a few weeks to get your medical release in case you want to participate in other sports. Any questions?’

      The Fords’ negative responses came simultaneously.

      He gave Alyssa a sympathetic glance. ‘It won’t be for ever. If you play your cards right, there might be some young man who’s interested in carrying your book bag for a while.’

      Alyssa’s eyes brightened and her cheeks turned pink as she obviously considered the possibilities.

      Glad to see the teenager’s spirits had lifted, he said his goodbyes, then left. Before he reached the nurses’ station, Dr Casey intercepted him.

      ‘J.D. I’m glad to have caught you. Can you spare a few minutes?’ The slim, fifty-year-old chief of staff delivered his question in such a way that J.D. didn’t dare refuse.

      ‘Sure. I wanted to talk to you, anyway.’ J.D. thrust his hospital-issue pen into the left breast pocket of his green scrub shirt, tucked the medical record under his arm and waited expectantly for his superior to speak first.

      Dr Casey motioned towards the ambulance dock. ‘Do you mind if we step outside? I’d rather get away from listening ears.’

      Puzzled over the request, J.D. glanced at Katie who was standing behind the desk. Her wide eyes and the shrug of her shoulders suggested she knew as much as he did, which amounted to nothing.

      He placed the Ford girl’s chart on the counter. ‘Fine with me. I could use a breath of fresh air.’

      He strode alongside the other physician, comparing his shapeless scrubs to Robert’s expertly tailored herringbone tweed suit, grey shirt and multicoloured silk tie. Funny thing how ever since Katie had made the comment about power suits, he’d become keenly conscious of his colleagues’ attire.

      His own closet was filled with similar apparel, but he had little occasion to wear them. Then again, he didn’t feel the need or have the desire to impress people. In an emergency, no one cared what he wore; it was his expertise that counted.

      The cool October breeze, the fresh scent of wood smoke from someone’s fireplace and the open space was the perfect tonic to counteract the stuffy, crowded, sterile confines of the ER.

      Taking