Her Kind Of Doctor

Doctor Difficult and the nurse who can tame him

ER nurse Paige Winters has a knack for working with difficult Dr. Luke Sherman. But when the demanding physician oversteps one too many times, Paige snaps and gives the doctor a dose of his own bitter medicine, then transfers out of the ER. So why is she so miserable? And why can’t she stop thinking about handsome Luke?

Luke is stunned by Paige’s anger...and the truth in her words. Now that she’s gone, he’s missing his best nurse and teammate. Paige was the one person who could light up his days. And Luke realizes Paige is the only prescription he’s ever needed. But can the smitten doctor convince her that love really is the best medicine?

Suddenly he was smiling and the response felt good.

He felt good, and that didn’t make sense. None at all.

He said, “We’re all entitled to get angry once in a while.”

“Yes. Once in a while.”

He chuckled, and the sound caused her brows to arch with surprise. Her reaction made him realize she’d probably never heard him laugh before, and the idea stunned him.

She unexpectedly rose to her feet and carried her mug over to the cabinet area as though she was preparing to leave. Luke was promptly overcome with disappointment.

“There’s no need for you to be afraid and rush off, Paige. I do know how to laugh. I promise I’ve not taken some sort of Jekyll-and-Hyde potion.”

Even though there was a few feet of space between them, he could see a dark blush stain her cheeks. The idea that he’d caused the heat in her face reminded him of just how long it had been since he’d had any sort of personal exchange with a woman. For the past five years he’d been a dead man. But life had suddenly and unexpectedly started flowing through him again. All thanks to this redheaded goddess standing in front of him.

* * *

Men of the West: Whether ranchers or lawmen, these heartbreakers know how to ride, shoot—and drive a woman crazy…

Her Kind of Doctor

Stella Bagwell

www.millsandboon.co.uk

After writing more than eighty books for Mills & Boon, STELLA BAGWELL still finds it exciting to create new stories and bring her characters to life. She loves all things Western and has been married to her own real cowboy for forty-four years. The couple has one son, who teaches high school mathematics and is also an athletic director. Stella loves hearing from readers. They can contact her at stellabagwell@gmail.com.

To editorial assistant Megan Broderick

for all your hard work. It’s so appreciated.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

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

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“Nurse Winters! There is no place in the ER for tears. If you can’t control your emotions then get your things and go home! I’ll not have my patients’ welfare put in jeopardy over your foolish display of histrionics!”

Dr. Luke Sherman’s imperious voice sliced through Paige, just as it had many times before. Over the past three years, she’d grown accustomed to his barked orders and cutting remarks, his sneers and hateful attitude, but this was the end, she decided.

Not caring if there was a murderous expression on her face, she blinked at the moisture in her eyes and whirled to confront him. And even though she wanted to scream at him, she kept her voice tightly controlled.

“For your information, Dr. Sherman, I’m not having histrionics or any other sort of breakdown! I am in perfect control of my faculties and my emotions!”

One of his sandy brows arched upward, implying he found it incredible that she was actually daring to confront him. Paige desperately wanted to step forward and slap the supercilious look off his handsome face.

“Like hell you are!” His caustic retort caused something inside her to snap, releasing the fury she’d been struggling to rein in.

“You would view shedding a tear as criminal,” she said angrily. “You’re not human!”

His jaw clamped into a tight vise. “Are you finished? Or do you have more to say?”

Trying to explain anything to this man would be futile, she decided. He wouldn’t understand that the mist in her eyes had nothing to do with being a nurse and everything to do with being a woman. Earlier in the day, her best friend had given birth to a beautiful daughter and a few minutes ago Paige had held the precious, tiny life in her arms. As she’d gazed down at the baby’s face an empty longing had washed over her, reminding her of everything she’d been missing and all that she’d lost. She couldn’t expect any man to understand the feelings that were still tugging at her emotions. Especially Dr. Luke Sherman.

Through clenched teeth, she said, “I have plenty more to say. You, Dr. Sherman, have to be the most pompous, self-absorbed bastard that’s ever called himself a doctor!”

His nostrils flared and a swathe of red color washed up his neck. No doubt she’d infuriated him and burned her bridges in the process, but she was beyond worrying about the consequences. She was a nurse. Not a doormat or whipping post.

“You have the right to think whatever you like about me,” he said, in a voice cool enough to freeze Lake Tahoe. “It’s my duty to make sure my staff is capable of administering undivided attention to my patients. And right now you’re definitely not capable! I’m telling you to leave the ER! And I don’t expect to see you again until you take care of your problem.”

Her problem? He was the problem! She wanted to scream the words at him. Instead, she turned on her heel and hurried out of the treatment area before any of her fellow nurses could intercept her angry march to the main desk.

Helen, the head nurse of the Tahoe General Hospital emergency unit in Carson City, Nevada, was standing behind the counter with a phone jammed to her ear. Her steel-gray hair was always waved back from her face just as her full lips were a permanent ruby red. The only nurse on staff who stuck to age-old tradition in hospital fashion, a stiff nurse’s cap was pinned to the crown of her head, while a white dress uniform was buttoned over her ample curves. To the staff of the ER, Helen was affectionately known as the Iron Lady and at this very moment Paige wished she had just a fraction of Helen’s tough constitution.

As Paige approached the desk, Helen hung up the phone and began scribbling something on a notepad. When she finally looked up, she tossed down her pencil and folded her arms across her breasts. “Okay, give it to me. What’s happened? You look like you could breathe fire!”

Paige sniffed and stuffed her trembling hands in the pockets on her scrub top so the matronly nurse couldn’t see them.

Struggling to keep her voice from cracking, she muttered, “If I could breathe fire right now, Dr. Sherman would be nothing more than a piece of charred flesh!”

The veteran nurse cocked her head to one side as she surveyed Paige’s red eyes and pale face. “That’s nothing new. What’s he done now? Don’t tell me you let him bring you to tears! I thought you were a better woman than that.”

Paige had believed she was a better woman, too. Before this morning, she’d always been strong enough to hang on to her self-control whenever she was on the receiving end of his wrathful tongue. But this time Dr. Sherman had finally pushed the right buttons and, unfortunately, she’d cracked.

“These tears have nothing to do with him,” Paige said curtly.

“Hmm. My mistake. I thought you said you just wanted to turn him into a grilled fillet.”

“That’s because—” She broke off and shook her head with frustration. “Oh, a few minutes ago while I was on my break I went upstairs to the maternity ward. To see Marcella’s new baby daughter. They’ve named her Daisy and trust me, it fits. She’s as pretty as a flower.”

Helen smiled. “I heard that Marcella had delivered a few hours ago. I’m so happy for her and Denver.”

Paige glanced around to make sure none of the nurses coming and going around the desk were lingering about to pick up their conversation. It was bad enough that Dr. Sherman had ordered her out of the ER, she didn’t want to give the gossip mill any more fodder.

“I’m terribly happy for Marcella, too. She’s wanted another baby for so long. And when I held little Daisy...well, I got a bit misty. So when I returned to the ER, Dr. Perfect spotted my teary eyes, instantly concluded I was unfit for duty and ordered me out. So I’m here to tell you I’m going home.”

Helen gave her a stern look, then turned her piercing blue eyes to the clock on a wall behind them. “There’s only two hours to go until your shift changes. Don’t worry about leaving. If we get real tight, I’ll go back and fill in for you.”

Worry? Paige had just called her superior a pompous bastard. She figured her days in the ER were over. Or at the very least, she wouldn’t be working the same shift as Luke Sherman.

“Uh, there’s a little more to it, Helen. I’m afraid I said some very nasty things to Dr. Sherman. This might be the last time you’ll be seeing me around here. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

Scowling, Helen promptly took Paige by the arm and led her over to a more secluded area of the nurses’ station.

“Paige, I don’t begin to know what’s going on between you and Dr. Sherman. And frankly, I couldn’t care less if you love him or hate him. But you’ve been a nurse in this ER for seven years. You’re one of the best we’ve ever had. I don’t want to lose you.”

To emphasize her words, the older nurse reached over and gave Paige’s hand a tight squeeze. Paige was grateful for her support, but she wasn’t at all sure that Helen could intervene on her behalf, or even if she wanted her to.

Leaning closer to Helen, Paige lowered her voice. “Even if Dr. Sherman doesn’t ask to have me kicked off the ER staff, I’m not sure I can continue to work with the man, Helen. He’s...impossible!”

To her surprise, Helen chuckled. “I thought all men were impossible.”

Before Paige could make any sort of retort, the telephone rang and Helen hurried off to answer it. Paige used the interruption to make a swift exit.

Five minutes later, after snatching her wallet and tote bag from her locker, she was out of the hospital, with Carson City fading in her rearview mirror as she drove east on Highway 50 toward Fallon.

The forty-minute drive to the farmhouse of her grandfather, Gideon McCrea, usually gave her plenty of time to unwind from work. Especially when she could watch the early morning sun crest over the mountains and spread a golden haze across the desert floor. However, this morning a bank of clouds blotted out the sunrise and her thoughts were far away from the rough, open landscape.

Darn it! After three long years of working under Dr. Luke Sherman, why had she let his nasty mouth get under her skin? He’d said just as bad or worse to her before and she’d always allowed the barbs to roll right off her back. But this time his words had stuck and sunk too deep to ignore.

It was just as well, she thought glumly. During the past few months the tension of working with the demanding doctor had grown to such a point she’d sometimes felt herself close to crumbling. Especially when she appeared to be the only nurse in the ER that caught the brunt of his wrath.

When she finally pulled her economy car to a stop in front of her grandfather’s farmhouse, the clouds had moved north and the morning sun was already painting pink and yellow fingers across the porch sheltering the front and one side of the structure. Just the sight of the old two-bedroom house, with its rusty tin roof and gray, graveled tar siding, comforted her. No matter what took place in her life, this place would always be her home.

She was pulling her tote from the backseat of the car when the bang of the screen door had her glancing around to see Gideon walking onto the porch. His tall, thin frame was clothed in faded overalls and an equally faded chambray shirt. A mug of coffee was in one hand and a piece of food, most likely bacon, was in the other. As he took a seat in a rusty motel chair, he tossed the food to the dog lying near the end of the porch.

As she approached the house, she called out, “Grandfather, how many times have I told you not to feed Samson table scraps? They’re not good for him.”

“They’ve been pretty good to me for the past seventy-five years,” he argued. “And don’t be thinking Samson is stupid. He knows a piece of crispy fried bacon tastes a darn sight better than a chunk of hard dog food. That stuff isn’t much more than a corn dodger with a few vitamins thrown in.”

Paige wearily climbed the steps to the porch, then walked over and dropped a kiss on Gideon’s leathery cheek.

“Okay. Next time, we’ll buy canned dog food for Samson,” she told him.

As if on cue, the collie mix lifted his head and whined, which in turn made Gideon laugh. The interaction was enough to put a wan smile on Paige’s face.

“So did you leave any of that bacon for me?” she asked.

Gideon narrowed his faded blue eyes at her, then pulled a pocket watch from the bib of his overalls. “Am I mixed up this morning? Or have you come home early?”

He opened the watch and, after a careful check of the hands, snapped it closed.

“I’m early, Grandfather.”

“You’re usually an hour or two later. What happened? No sick folks coming in today?”

Paige could’ve told him there were plenty of ailing folks in the hospital. Including her. She was sick of Dr. Sherman’s endless demands and hateful attitude. She was fed up with looking at his face and wondering whether a nice guy had ever lived behind his handsomely carved features.

Sighing, Paige dropped her duffel and sank into the chair next to Gideon’s. “The ER was very busy. I, uh, had a little run-in with one of the doctors and decided it best I leave early.”

As he weighed her words, he passed a hand over waves of thick hair that had once been auburn but had grayed to a mixture of white and rust. At one time Gideon McCrea had been a young handsome man, working as a welder for the Virginia and Truckee Railroad. But once time had begun to catch up with him, he’d retired and contented himself with growing small crops of timothy and alfalfa to sell to the local ranchers. The profit he made wasn’t large, but that hardly mattered to him. He didn’t want much. Especially since his beloved wife, Callie, had died ten years ago.

“You going to quit being a nurse?” he asked.

Wow, she must really look stressed out, Paige decided. Or maybe Gideon was picking up some negative tone in her voice. Either way, she didn’t want him to worry about her.

“Oh, no, Grandfather. I’d never quit being a nurse. I just think it’s time for me to work in a different section of the hospital. I’ve decided I’m going to talk with Mr. Anderson about getting myself transferred out of the ER.”

Just speaking the thought out loud left her feeling empty and lost. The ER was her life. It was where she felt needed the most. Leaving it behind was going to be difficult. But not nearly as painful as trying to deal with another minute of Luke Sherman.

“When?”

Gideon’s question prompted Paige to refocus her attention on his weather-beaten features. Thankfully he didn’t appear overly concerned, but then he wasn’t a man who always wore his emotions on his sleeve. Mostly, she tried to gauge his feelings about a matter by how many words he spoke. More meant he was angry. Less meant worried.

“Later this afternoon. After I’ve had a little sleep.”

“Hmm. This doctor you had the run-in with, you don’t like him?”

Like him? She couldn’t associate such a meek word with Dr. Sherman. A person either admired him or detested him. During the past three years she’d worked with him, she’d forced herself to ignore his abrasive demeanor and focus on his skills. Because he was one of the best doctors she’d ever been associated with, she’d tried to overlook his shortcomings as a person.

Holding back a rueful sigh, she said, “He’s a super doctor. A stickler for details. And he genuinely cares about his patients. But to answer your question, no. I don’t like the man. He’s an ass.”

“Maybe he has to be that way.”

Paige frowned. “Why? Why would anyone have to behave in such a way? It’s just as easy to be nice as it is to be hateful.”

Gideon slanted her a pointed smile. “Not for a man. We’re wired different. You ought to know that by now.”

Oh, yes, she’d learned the hard way that a man’s behavior wasn’t always guided by his morals or conscience. Seven years ago, Paige had divorced her cheating husband and moved from a luxurious house in Reno to live here with Gideon. Most of her friends and coworkers found it hard to believe that she preferred living so far away from her job, with an elderly grandfather, in a small house that had seen very little changes since it had been built in 1940. None of them understood that being close to her grandfather meant more to her than anything. He loved her and needed her. That was more than her own father had ever felt for her and certainly more than her ex.

“Grandfather,” she gently scolded, “you could never be anything but nice.”

He chuckled. “You didn’t know me when I was a young bull and my fist was ruled by the fire in my hair. The years have mellowed me.”

Paige figured Luke Sherman’s age to be at least five years older than her thirty years. And though there wasn’t any fiery red in his sandy hair, she’d seen plenty of sparks in his green eyes. If he lived to be ninety, she couldn’t imagine him ever mellowing into a nice guy.

Rising from the chair, she placed her hands against the small of her back and rolled her shoulders in an effort to ease the taut muscles. “You could tack a half century to Luke Sherman’s age and he still wouldn’t be good-humored.”

Gideon didn’t say anything to that and Paige was glad. She was tired of thinking about the doctor and even wearier of talking about him.

After picking up her tote, she stroked a hand over Samson’s head, then made her way to the door. “I’m going to have a bite of breakfast,” she said. “Before I tend to the chickens and goats. If you go out on the tractor tell me.”

“Yes, little hen.”

Inside the house, Paige walked to her bedroom and changed out of her scrubs and into a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Once she was dressed, she pattered barefoot over the old linoleum as she made her way to a small kitchen located at the back of the house. Along the way, she pulled the pins from the heavy swathe of long hair fastened to the back of her head, then shook it free.

Since the cool of the morning still lingered, the air conditioner was off and a few of the windows stood open to the breeze. Normally this was Paige’s favorite time of the day, but her quarrel with Luke Sherman had taken the joy right out of her. Just another sign she needed to get away from the man, she thought dourly.

When she stepped into the kitchen, Gideon was already there at the cookstove, placing strips of bacon into a black frying pan.

“What are you doing?” she asked, frowning. “Samson doesn’t need any more bacon today.”

“This isn’t for Samson. It’s for you. Bacon, eggs and toast. Get yourself a cup of coffee and sit down while I get it cooked.”

“Grandfather, I’m a hospital nurse. Not a patient. You don’t need to take care of me.”

“Maybe I want to take care of you. Ever think about that? Besides, I figure you’ve already done enough arguing for one morning. No need to do more of it with me.”

Sighing, Paige crossed to a white metal cabinet and pulled a mug from the shelf. As she picked up a granite percolator from the stove and tilted it over the cup, she couldn’t help but wonder if Luke Sherman was home by now. Would he be eating breakfast alone? It was a known fact he wasn’t married, but he could have a special woman who hung her robe on his bathroom door. Maybe the two of them were having breakfast together, or even worse, talking about the confrontation he’d had with Paige.

Don’t be stupid, Paige. Once Luke Sherman leaves the hospital he wouldn’t waste one minute thinking about you. To him you’re just a flunky who’s paid to do his bidding. Nothing more. Nothing less. Forget about the man. Forget about the ER.

“Paige! Have you lost your hearing?”

Realizing Gideon was practically shouting at her, she mentally shook away the dismal thoughts and glanced over her shoulder.

“Sorry, Grandfather. I didn’t hear you. What were you saying?”

He scowled at her. “I was asking if you wanted green chilies on your eggs.”

“No. I want habanero sauce.” Hopefully the fire on her tongue would burn any thoughts of Luke Sherman right out of her mind.

* * *

Twenty miles west of Carson City, on the south rim of Lake Tahoe, Luke Sherman sat on a redwood pier, staring out at a flock of birds skimming the waves of the deep blue water and soaring high above the giant evergreens shading the shoreline of the private cove. It was a beautiful July morning with the sun shining brightly in an azure-blue sky and a gentle breeze singing through the pines behind him.

During the summer months, he always made it a habit to drink his morning coffee here on the pier, where the beauty and solitude helped him unwind from the rigors of the ER. But this morning, Luke was far from relaxed. The image of Paige Winters’s face continued to float in front of his eyes, blocking out the magnificent view of prime Nevada real estate.

Damn it! What in the world had come over her? Of all the nurses he’d worked with during his ten years as an MD, Paige was definitely the most capable. If anything rattled her, it never showed in the smooth, efficient way she administered care to the influx of ER patients. Before this morning, he’d never once seen a glimmer of a tear in her eyes.

He didn’t know what had caused the waterworks. And he damn well didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to him was that his best nurse remain focused and ready for whatever emergency came through the door.

Luke unconsciously gripped the insulated coffee mug even tighter as the image of Paige’s clear gray eyes swimming in tears replayed itself in his mind. She would never know, or possibly guess, how much it had hurt him to see her crying. He could hardly believe it himself.

You didn’t have to cut into her the way you did, Luke. You were a jerk. A bastard, she called you. And she was right. You don’t deserve to have a nurse like Paige working at your side.

Cursing under his breath, he rose from the Adirondack chair and walked to the edge of the long, planked pier. As he stared down at the deep blue water, he shoved mightily at the accusing voice in his head.

It was possible he’d overreacted, he contemplated. And he might have tendered his words in a gentler manner. But he’d never had to handle Paige with kid gloves. She was tough. She could take anything he dished out. On top of that, he’d been right in confronting her and right in sending her out of the ER. He wasn’t going to allow anyone, even Nurse Winters, to jeopardize a patient’s life. So why did he feel so miserable?