Falling For The Foster Mum

A family for the bachelor doc?

Burns specialist Dr. Matthew McGrory is finally living the bachelor life after years of responsibility raising his siblings alone. But he can’t ignore the pull he feels toward beautiful Quinn Grady, foster mom to his favorite young patient.

Having learned the hard way that you can’t rely on other people, Quinn is uber-protective of little Simon, and her heart. But as Matthew’s hero status grows in the eyes of her young charge, she just might find he’s the hero she’s dreamed of, too...

Paddington Children’s Hospital

Caring for children—and captivating hearts!

The doctors and nurses of Paddington Children’s Hospital are renowned for their expert care of their young patients, no matter the cost. And now, facing both a heart-wrenching emergency and a dramatic fight to save their hospital, the stakes are higher than ever!

Devoted to their jobs, these talented professionals are about to discover that saving lives can often mean risking your heart...

Available now in the thrilling Paddington Children’s Hospital miniseries:

Their One Night Baby by Carol Marinelli

Forbidden to the Playboy Surgeon by Fiona Lowe

Mommy, Nurse...Duchess? by Kate Hardy

Falling for the Foster Mom by Karin Baine

And coming soon...

Healing the Sheikh’s Heart by Annie O’Neil

A Life-Saving Reunion by Alison Roberts

Dear Reader,

This book has been such a rollercoaster to write—I really hope you enjoy reading my slice of life at Paddington Children’s Hospital.

As excited as I was about taking part in my first continuity series, the prospect of writing along with such fabulous established authors was daunting for a newbie, to say the least! I shouldn’t have worried. These ladies had such fabulous ideas for the series, and are so much better organised than I am, it made the process easier.

A book set in London was also a great excuse for a research trip—and it just so happened to coincide with my twentieth wedding anniversary! I had a lovely day at the zoo with my hubby, following in Quinn, Matt and little Simon’s footsteps. Albeit in the rain...

Maybe for our silver anniversary I’ll plan a research trip somewhere a bit more exotic. Surely they have doctors on Mediterranean cruises too...

Happy reading!

Karin xx

Falling For The Foster Mum

Karin Baine

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KARIN BAINE lives in Northern Ireland with her husband, two sons, and her out-of-control notebook collection. Her mother’s and her grandmother’s vast collections of books inspired her love of reading and her dream of becoming a Mills & Boon author. Now she can tell people she has a proper job! You can follow Karin on Twitter, @karinbaine1, or visit her website for the latest news—karinbaine.com.

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Books by Karin Baine

Mills & Boon Medical Romance

French Fling to Forever

A Kiss to Change Her Life

The Doctor’s Forbidden Fling

The Courage to Love Her Army Doc

Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

This one’s for Jennie, Stephen and Samantha, my London travelling companions/supervisors, because we all know I can’t be trusted out on my own!

Along with John, You’ve always been so supportive of my writing and it’s much appreciated. xx

Thanks to Catherine, Abbi and Chellie, who’ve helped me so much with my research.

Praise for Karin Baine

“The moment I picked up Karin Baine’s debut medical romance I knew I would not be disappointed with her work. Poetic and descriptive writing, engaging dialogue, thoroughly created characters and a tightly woven plot propels French Fling to Forever into the must-read, highly recommended level.”

—Contemporary Romance Reviews

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Booklist

Dedication

Praise

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

Extract

Copyright

PROLOGUE

QUINN GRADY WAS officially the worst mother in the world. Barely a week into the job and her charge was already lying in the hospital.

Simon mightn’t be her real son but that made her role as his foster mum even more important. As someone who’d been passed from pillar to post in the care system herself, it meant everything to her to provide a safe home for him. Yet here she was, sitting on her own in the bright corridors of the Paddington Children’s Hospital, nerves shredded, waiting for news on his condition.

She’d done everything by the parenting handbook, even when life had thrown her that ‘I’m not ready to be a dad’ curveball from Darryl right before Simon had come into her life. Her focus had remained on his welfare regardless of her own heartbreak that her partner had gone back on his word that he was going into this with her. The sleepless nights she’d spent with her mind running through every possible scenario she might encounter as someone’s guardian hadn’t prepared her for this.

A fire at the school.

As she’d waved a tearful goodbye this morning and watched Simon walk away in his smart, new uniform she’d half expected a phone call. He’d looked so small, so lost, she’d almost been waiting for the school to call and ask her to pick him up, to come and hug him and tell him everything was going to be all right.

Not this. A fire was totally beyond her control. She couldn’t have prevented it and she couldn’t fix it. Apparently all she could do was fill in endless forms and she hadn’t even been able to do that until she’d contacted the local fostering authority to notify them about what had happened. Watching the frantic staff deal with the influx of injured schoolchildren, she’d never felt so helpless.

She knew Simon was badly hurt but she hadn’t been able to see him yet until they stabilised him. He could have life-changing injuries. Or worse. What if he didn’t make it? Her stomach lurched, terror gripping her insides at the thought of his suffering. This was supposed to have been a new start for both of them, to wipe out the past and build a better future. Now all she wanted was to see him and know he was okay.

She fidgeted in the hard plastic chair doing her best not to accost any of the nurses running from department to department. Perhaps if she was a proper mum she’d feel more entitled to demand constant information on his condition.

‘Are you Simon’s mother?’

A vision in green scrubs appeared beside her. His lovely Irish lilt was the comfort blanket she needed at this moment in time.

‘No. Yes.’ She didn’t know the appropriate response for this kind of situation.

As a pair of intense, sea-green eyes stared at her, waiting for an answer, she realised her temporary status didn’t matter. ‘I’m his foster mother.’

It was enough to soften the doctor’s features and he hunched down beside her chair.

‘I’m Matthew McGrory, a burns specialist. I’ve been brought over to assess Simon’s condition.’

Quinn held her breath. Good news or bad?

She searched his face for a sign but apart from noting how handsome he was up close she discovered nothing.

‘How is he?’

Good?

Bad?

‘Would you like to come through and see for yourself?’ The doctor’s mouth tilted into a smile.

That had to be positive, right?

‘Yes. Thank you.’ She got to her feet though her legs weren’t as steady as she needed them to be. Nonetheless she hurried down the corridor, powering hard to keep up with the great strides of a man who had to be at least six foot.

He stopped just outside the door of the Paediatric Intensive Care Unit, the last barrier between her and Simon, but an ominous one. Only the most poorly children would be on the other side and he was one of them. Not for the first time she wished she had someone to go through this with her.

‘Before we go in, I want you to be prepared. Simon has suffered severe burns along with some smoke inhalation. It’s not a pretty sight but everything we’re doing is to minimise long-term damage. Okay? Ready?’

She nodded, feigning bravery and nowhere near ready. Whatever the injuries, they would affect her and Simon for a long time but they were in this together.

‘He needs me,’ she said, her voice a mere whisper as she tried to pull herself together. She wondered if clinging to the hunky doctor’s arm for support was an option but he was already opening the door and stepping into the ward before she could make a grab for him.

They passed several cubicles but she couldn’t make out any of the faces as the small bodies were dwarfed by monster machinery aiding their recovery.

‘Oh, Simon!’ Her hand flew to her mouth to cover the gasp as she was led to the last bed on the row. She wouldn’t have recognised him if not for the glimpse of curly hair against the pillow.

The face of the little boy she’d left at the school gates only hours ago was now virtually obscured by the tubes and wires going in and out of his tiny form keeping him alive. His pale torso was a contrast to the mottled black and red angry skin of his right arm stretched out at his side. Lying there, helpless, he looked even younger than his meagre five years.

Quinn’s knees began to buckle at the enormity of the situation and the tears she’d been desperately trying to keep at bay finally burst through the dam.

Strong hands seemed to come from nowhere to catch her before she fell to the floor in a crumpled heap of guilt and manoeuvred her into a chair.

‘I know it’s a lot to take in but he’s honestly in the best place. Simon has severe burns to the face and arm and we have him intubated to help him breathe after the smoke inhalation. Once the swelling has gone down and we’re happy there’s no damage to his eyes, we’ll move him to the burns unit for further treatment.’

She blinked through her tears to focus on the man kneeling before her.

‘Is he going to be okay?’ That was all she needed to know.

‘The next forty-eight hours will be crucial in assessing the full extent of his burns. He’ll need surgery to keep the wounds clean and prevent any infection and there’s a good chance he’ll need skin grafts in the future. I won’t deny it’ll be a long process, but that’s why I’m here. I’m a reconstructive surgeon too and I will do my very best to limit and repair any permanent scarring. The road to recovery is going to be tough but we’re in this together.’ This virtual stranger reached out and gave her hand a squeeze to reassure her but the electric touch jolted her back into reality.

She was a mum now and following in the footsteps of her own amazing adoptive mum, who’d moved heaven and earth to do what was best for her. It was time for her to step up to the plate now too.

‘I’ll do whatever it takes. Simon deserves the best.’ And something told her that the best was surgeon Matthew McGrory.

CHAPTER ONE

Two months later

QUINN WISHED THEY did an easy-to-read, step-by-step guide for anxious foster mums going through these operations too. It was difficult to know what to do for the best when Simon resisted all attempts to comfort him pre-op.

He turned his face away when she produced the well-worn kids’ book the hospital had provided to explain the surgical process.

She sighed and closed the book.

‘I suppose you know this off by heart now.’ Not that it made this any easier. After the countless hours he’d spent on the operating table they both knew what they were in for—pain, tears and a huge dollop of guilt on her part.

She hadn’t caused the fire or his injuries but neither had she been able to save him from this suffering. Given the choice she’d have swapped places with the mite and offered herself up for this seemingly endless torture rather than watch him go through it.

‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked the back of his head, wishing there was something she could do other than stand here feeling inadequate.

The pillow rustled as he shook his head and she had to suppress the urge to try and swamp him into a big hug the way her mother always had when she’d been having a hard time. Simon didn’t like to be hugged. In fact, he resisted any attempt to comfort him. That should’ve been his real mother’s job but then apparently she’d never shown affection for anything other than her next fix. His too-young, too-addicted parents were out of the picture, their neglect so severe the courts had stripped them of any rights.

Quinn and Simon had barely got to know each other before the fire had happened so she couldn’t tell if his withdrawal was a symptom of his recent trauma or the usual reaction of a foster child afraid to get attached to his latest care giver. She wasn’t his parent, nor one of the efficient medical staff, confident in what they were doing. For all she knew he’d already figured out she was out of her depth and simply didn’t want to endure her feeble overtures. Maybe he just didn’t like her. Whatever was causing the chasm between them it was vital she closed it, and fast.

As if on cue, their favourite surgeon stepped into the room. ‘Back again? I’m sure you two are sick of the sight of me.’

That velvety Irish accent immediately caught her attention. She frowned as goose bumps popped up across her skin. At the age of thirty-two she should really have better self-control over an ill-conceived crush on her foster son’s doctor.

‘Hi, Matt.’ An also enchanted Simon sat upright in bed.

It was amazing how much they both seemed to look forward to these appointments and hate them at the same time. Although the skin grafts were a vital part of recovery, they were traumatic and led to more night terrors once they returned home as Simon relived the events of the fire in his sleep. He’d been one of the most seriously burned children, having been trapped in his classroom by falling debris. Although the emergency services had thankfully rescued him, no one had been able to save him from the memories or the residual pain.

Matt, as he’d insisted they call him, was the one constant during this whole nightmare. The one person Simon seemed to believe when he said things would work out. Probably because he had more confidence in himself and his abilities than she did in herself, when every dressing change made her feel like a failure.

The poor child’s face was still scarred, even after the so-called revolutionary treatment, and his arm was a patchwork quilt of pieced together skin. Technically his injuries had occurred in school but that didn’t stop her beating herself up that it had happened on her watch. Especially when the fragile bond they’d had in those early days had disintegrated in the aftermath of the fire. Unlike the one he’d forged with the handsome surgeon.

Matt moved to the opposite side of the bed from Quinn and pulled out some sort of plastic slide from his pocket. ‘I’ve got a new one for you, Simon. The disappearing coin trick!’ he said with flare, plucking a ten pence piece from the air.

‘Cool!’

Of course it was. Magic was a long way away from the realities of life with second-and third-degree burns. Fun time with Matt before surgery offered an escape whilst she was always going to be the authority figure telling him not to scratch and slathering cream over him when he just wanted to be left alone.

Somehow Simon was able to separate his friend who performed magic tricks from the surgeon who performed these painful procedures, whereas she was the one he associated with his pain. It was frustrating, especially seeing him so engaged when she’d spent all day trying to coax a few words from him.

‘I need you to place the coin in here.’ He gave Simon the coin and pulled out a tray with a hole cut out of the centre from the plastic slide.

Concentration was etched on his face as he followed instructions and once Quinn set aside her petty jealousy she appreciated the distraction from the impending surgery. After all, that’s what she wanted for him—to be the same as any other inquisitive five-year-old, fascinated by the world around him. Not hiding away, fearful of the unknown, the way he was at home.

‘Okay, so we push it back in here—’ he slid the tray back inside the case ‘—and this is the important bit. We need a magic word.’

‘Smelly pants!’ Simon had the mischievous twinkle of a child who knew he could get away with being naughty on this occasion.

‘I was thinking along the more traditional abracadabra line but I guess that works too.’ Matt exchanged a grin across the bed with her. It was a brief moment which made her forget the whole parent/doctor divide and react as any other woman who’d had a good-looking man smile at her.

That jittery, girlish excitement took her by surprise as he made eye contact with her and sent her heart rate sky high. Since Darryl left her she hadn’t given any thought to the opposite sex. At least not in any ‘You’re hot and I want you’ way. More of a ‘You’re a man and I can’t trust you’ association. She wasn’t prepared to give away any more of herself—of her time or her heart—to anyone who wouldn’t appreciate the gift. All of her time and energy these days was directed into the fostering process, trying to make up for the lack of two parents in Simon’s life. Harbouring any form of romantic ideas was self-indulgent and, most likely, self-destructive.

She put this sudden attraction down to the lack of adult interaction. Since leaving her teaching post to tutor from home and raise Simon, apart from the drive-by parents of her students, and her elderly neighbour, Mrs Johns, the medical staff were the only grown-ups she got to talk to. Very few of them were men, and even fewer had cheekbones hand-carved by the gods. It was no wonder she’d overreacted to a little male attention. The attraction had been there since day one and she’d fought it with good reason when her last romantic interlude had crashed her world around her. Everything she’d believed in her partner had turned out to be a lie, making it difficult for her to trust a word anyone told her any more. She kept everyone at a distance now, but Matt was such a key figure in their days that he was nigh on impossible to ignore. As the weeks had gone on she found herself getting into more arguments with him, forcing him to take the brunt of her fears for Simon and the annoyance she should have directed at herself.

Matt waved his hand over the simple piece of plastic which had transformed Simon’s body language in mere seconds.

‘Smelly pants!’ he shouted, echoed by his tiny assistant.

The magician-cum-surgeon frowned at her. Which apparently was equally as stimulating as a smile.

‘It’ll only work if we all say the magic words together. Let’s try this again.’

Quinn rolled her eyes but she’d go along with anything to take Simon’s mind off what was coming next.

‘Smelly pants!’ they all chorused as Matt pulled out the now empty tray.

‘Wow! How did you do that?’ Simon inspected the magic chamber, suitably impressed by the trick.

‘Magic.’ Matt gave her a secret wink and started her tachycardia again.

Didn’t he have theatre prep or intensive hand-scrubbing to do rather than showing off here and disturbing people’s already delicate equilibrium?

‘I wish I could make my scars disappear like that.’ Simon’s sudden sad eyes and lapse back into melancholy made Quinn’s heart ache for him.

‘I’m working on it, kiddo. That’s why all of these operations are necessary even though they suck big-time. It might take a few waves of my magic wand but I’ll do my very best to make them disappear.’

Quinn folded her arms, binding her temper inside her chest. He might mean well but he shouldn’t be giving the child false hope. Simon’s body was a chequered, vivid mess of dead and new flesh. He was never going to have blemish-free skin again, regardless of the super-confident surgeon’s skills, and she was the one who’d have to pick up the pieces when the promises came to nothing. Again.

‘You said that the last time.’ Not even Simon was convinced, lying back on the bed, distraction over.

‘I also said it would take time. Good things come to those who wait, right?’ It was a mantra he’d used since day one but he clearly wasn’t au fait with the limited patience of five-year-olds. Unlike Quinn, who’d had a crash course in tantrums and tears while waiting for the miraculous recovery to happen before her very eyes. Her patience had been stretched to the limit too.

‘Right,’ Simon echoed without any conviction.

‘I’ll tell you what, once you’re back from theatre and wide awake, I’ll come back and show you how to do a few tricks of your own. Deal?’

Quinn couldn’t tell if it was bravado or ego preventing the doctor from admitting defeat as he stood with his hand held out to make the bargain. Either way, she didn’t think it was healthy for him to get close to Simon only to let him down. He’d had enough of that from his birth parents, who’d given up any rights to him in favour of drugs, foster parents, who’d started the adoption process then abandoned him when they’d fallen pregnant themselves, and her, who’d sent him to get burned up in school. It might have failed her once but that protective streak was back with a vengeance.

‘We couldn’t ask you to do that. I’m sure you have other patients to see and we’ve already taken up so much of your time.’ She knew these extra little visits weren’t necessary. They had highly skilled nurses and play specialists to make these transitions easier for the children. These informal chats and games made her feel singled out. As if he was trying to suss out her capability to look after Simon outside of the hospital. The nurses had noticed too, remarking how much extra time he’d devoted to Simon’s recovery and she didn’t appreciate it as much as they probably thought she should. He wasn’t going to sneak his way into her affections the way Darryl had, then use her fostering against her; she’d learned that lesson the hard way. She could do this. Alone.

‘Not at all. I’m always willing to pass on my secrets to a budding apprentice.’ He held out his hand again and Simon shook it with his good arm, bypassing her concerns.

‘I just mean perhaps you should be concentrating on the surgery rather than performing for us.’ The barb was enough to furrow that brow again but he had a knack for getting her back up. Handsome or not, she wouldn’t let him cause Simon any more pain than necessary.