Celebrity in Braxton Falls

‘Seems we’ve learnt quite a bit about each other in the past twenty-four hours, haven’t we?’

‘Yes. I suppose so.’

‘And one of the things I’ve learnt about you, Kerry, is that you’re one feisty woman.’

His arm was still around her, holding her against him, and he leant forward and brushed her forehead with his lips. She didn’t draw back. Rather, she allowed herself to imagine the sweetness of his mouth on hers—because wasn’t this secretly what she had been longing for, perhaps even needing?

In the back of her mind a little voice whispered, You ‘re mad—you’ve only known this guy for two days! Whatever Denovan said, they were still almost strangers. She didn’t know his background, or what sadness he referred to in his past, and he’d only brushed his lips across her forehead, but in that moment she realised that she had been attracted to him from the first moment she’d seen him.

She pressed her lips to his cheek, responding to his feather-light kiss with eagerness, giving in to the clamour of her own longing. A kind of dizzy freedom from the sadness and constraints of the past year swept through her, and she couldn’t help her response—an almost compulsive need to make love to this man she’d only known for such a short time.

Dear Reader

The idea for this story came from reading about a family feud and how it affected the other people involved. I wondered how it might impinge on the lives of two people in love if they were caught up in a feud—could it ruin their future? Or would they be able to overcome all obstacles and find future happiness together?

I set the story in the beautiful countryside of the Peak District, although Braxton Falls is an imaginary village. I hope I’ve brought a flavour of the area to the story, and the sense of community that binds a small place together in adversity.

I so enjoyed writing this story—I hope you will find pleasure in reading it.

Best wishes

Judy

JUDY CAMPBELL is from Cheshire. As a teenager she spent a great year at high school in Oregon, USA, as an exchange student. She has worked in a variety of jobs, including teaching young children, being a secretary and running a small family business. Her husband comes from a medical family, and one of their three grown-up children is a GP. Any spare time—when she’s not writing romantic fiction—is spent playing golf, especially in the Highlands of Scotland.

Recent titles by the same author:

REUNITED: A MIRACLE MARRIAGE

FROM SINGLE MUM TO LADY

HIRED: GP AND WIFE

THE GP’S MARRIAGE WISH

These books are also available in eBook format from www.millsandboon.co.uk

Celebrity in

Braxton Falls

Judy Campbell

CHAPTER ONE

‘GOLDEN sands fringed by waving palms, an azure sea and balmy days that you will love …’

The photograph of an idyllic beach scene underneath the caption in the brochure looked impossibly alluring—Kerry Latimer could almost feel the texture of the warm sand between her toes, imagine the limpid water lapping against her body, the sun sparkling on the waves, palm trees rustling in the light wind …

‘Too right I’d love it,’ she muttered wryly, then tore the brochure firmly in two, crushing it into a ball and flinging it sadly into the waste-paper basket. ‘A shame I won’t be going to the golden sands and azure sea after all …’

She looked bleakly through the surgery window, made blurry by the lashing rain, and at the dark sky outside, with the glowering shadows on the hills in the distance. During the past few days there had been a continuous torrential downpour, and the river flowing through the village was ominously high—a world away from dreamy islands in the middle of the Caribbean and their sunny climes. If only Frank had been more careful. If only he’d slowed down a bit, she would be almost there by now.

The horribly expensive pale coral silk dress hanging in its clear plastic cover on the wall of the surgery caught her eye—at this very moment she ought to have been on a plane, tossing back champagne as she winged her way to her cousin’s wedding in Tobago, looking forward to wearing the dress later that week as one of her cousin’s bridesmaids. Now, of course, after what had happened, she was stuck at work in Braxton Falls for the foreseeable future, covering for Frank, any hope of jetting off to beautiful sun-kissed beaches absolutely scuppered.

‘Just my luck that my first holiday after a year’s hard grind should be hijacked.’ Kerry sighed—there was nothing she could do about the situation but grit her teeth and bear it, as her mother used to say.

She picked up the phone on her desk, and stabbed out a number. ‘Hello?’ she said as it was answered. ‘Is that Denovan O’Mara? This is Kerry Latimer. I’m a colleague of your brother’s at The Larches Medical Centre. I’m afraid that I’ve some bad news about him …’ She took a deep breath and said gently, ‘I’m very sorry to tell you that Frank was in a car accident last night and was seriously injured.’

There was a second’s silence—Kerry imagined the shock Denovan would feel as he received the information about his half-brother, and she waited for the appalled intake of breath at the news, the concerned enquiry about his condition.

The reply sounded exasperated rather than anxious. ‘The stupid fool—what the hell was he doing?’

Kerry stared at the phone, rather taken aback—it seemed a callous response to such awful news. ‘We think Frank touched the accelerator instead of the brake—it’s an automatic car—and he went through the garage door and out of the back wall of the garage down a steep incline, hitting a tree.’

A derisive short laugh. ‘I don’t suppose I’m all that surprised—it’s typical of him. I always knew Frank was an accident waiting to happen—he’s impatient and reckless. Were any other people injured?’

‘No,’ she answered coldly. ‘No one else was involved.’

‘Well, that’s a blessing—he’s an awful driver.’ Privately Kerry agreed with Denovan—Frank always seemed to be taking corners too fast and scraping his car, or denting his bumpers when he reversed.

‘So where is he now?’ asked Denovan briskly.

‘He’s in the local hospital at the moment, but will probably be transferred to Derby for further detailed trauma scans. He has serious injuries to his head and a very bruised back. He’s stable but in an induced coma. I thought I should let you know as I believe you’re his only relative.’

‘I see. Well, I suppose I’ll have to come up then, although it’s highly inconvenient. I could really do without this.’

‘Excuse me?’ What was this man like, and how self-centred could you be, weighing inconvenience with seeing a desperately ill brother? Kerry felt a slow burn of anger. If anyone should feel aggrieved, it was she, Kerry Latimer—obliged to cancel her holiday at the last minute, and then having to hold the fort at a two-handed medical practice for the foreseeable future.

Denovan’s voice sounded tetchy. ‘I’m in negotiations for a new contract and it could be rather tricky to leave at the moment.’ Then he added unenthusiastically, ‘But I will come up, of course.’

‘If you think you can spare the time,’ said Kerry sarcastically. ‘He is very poorly, you know.’

‘I’m sure he is. Sounds as if he’ll be out of commission for a while—that won’t make your job any easier, I guess,’ he conceded. ‘I’ll be up when I’ve finished the programme this morning. I should be in Braxton later this afternoon.’

‘I’m sure he’ll be delighted to see you when he comes round.’

There was a short mirthless laugh at the other end of the line. ‘You think?’

‘Of course he will!’ said Kerry rather indignantly. ‘I assume you’ll stay at his house?’

‘I’ll stay in the local hotel—what’s it called? The Pear Tree?’

‘Do you want me to book you a room?’

The voice softened. ‘That’s kind of you. One night will do. And it was good of you to let me know about Frank, I appreciate it. I’ll see you when I arrive.’

The phone clicked and Kerry leaned back in her chair, frowning, and tapped a pencil against her teeth. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of Denovan O’Mara—known to a huge following of adoring fans as ‘TV’s Dr Medic’, helped in no small part by his good looks and knowledgeable, kindly manner.

Kerry grimaced—she felt she’d seen the real Denovan O’Mara a few seconds ago, and it revealed the flipside to his smooth public image—an impatient, irritable and arrogant side. And talk about unsympathetic. If he was as unfeeling as he seemed to be with his brother’s plight, what was his bedside manner like with patients?

She’d never actually met Denovan face-to-face, just seen him occasionally on some morning breakfast show, giving his opinion and advice on the latest medical news story or answering viewers’ concerns—every inch the glamorous and dreamy TV celebrity doctor with trademark tousled dark hair and piercing blue eyes. His strong, aquiline features regularly appeared on magazine covers, his advice was given in many newspaper articles and, in fact, he seemed to be always in the public eye, but from the conversation she’d just had with him, Kerry wasn’t sure she was in a hurry to meet him personally.

‘Talk about arrogant and selfish,’ Kerry muttered as she sorted out the mail left on her desk. ‘The guy only seems to think of the inconvenience he’s been caused, with not an ounce of sympathy for Frank.’

It was Denovan, the younger of the two brothers, who had the celebrity looks. Frank was a good, reliable doctor and Kerry had a high opinion of his work, although he had a short fuse, even worse now he was divorced—and perhaps in that respect there was a similarity between the two men! Anyway, Kerry could put up with Frank’s occasional moods because she loved working in beautiful Braxton Falls.

The brothers certainly didn’t appear to be close. As far as she knew, Denovan had never been up to Braxton since their father had died six years ago, and Frank rarely spoke of him. Now she came to think of it, the few times she had heard Frank mention his brother, it had been in slightly mocking tones, implying that Denovan thought highly of himself and his celebrity role and was rather a womaniser, never seen with the same girl twice. Having just spoken to Denovan, she thought Frank might have had a point!

Kerry flicked a look at her watch and guiltily started up her computer, clicking on to the patients she had listed for that morning. No good musing about the brothers’ relationship with each other—it was nothing to do with her. The list was a full one, reflecting the fact that she’d got some of Frank’s patients too—it was going to be a hard slog over the next few weeks, trying to cope by herself without help.

But, boy, was she in need of a holiday. She’d looked forward to being her cousin’s bridesmaid for months, and with the wedding set in such an exotic location it had been extra thrilling. It had been something to take her mind off the emotional roller-coaster she’d experienced over the past year. She closed her eyes for a second and swallowed hard, trying to blank out of her mind the heartache and loneliness she’d endured after the shock of Andy’s death—at times she wondered if she’d ever get over it. In a world that seemed to be filled with couples it was hard to force herself as a single woman to go out and socialise, and consequently her social life was pretty non-existent. She was getting used to single meals heated up in the microwave. That was why this holiday was going to be such a momentous thing, supposedly kick-starting her to a more positive future. She put all the medical magazines that had arrived to one side and quickly shuffled through the printed emails that had come through with blood-test results and hospital appointments, forcing her mind on to other things. But the incipient headache that had been threatening for some time came on more persistently and she swallowed two painkillers before putting her printouts neatly in her in-tray.

There was a tap on the door, and Daphne Clark, one of the receptionists, came in with a cup of coffee.

‘I thought you might need this,’ she said. ‘After all the excitement last night and getting Frank into hospital you must be exhausted. Have you heard how he is?’

‘He may be moved some time today to Derby for further tests, but I can tell you that it’ll be a long time before he can get back to work again. I’m on the lookout for a locum urgently, though I doubt I’ll get one.’ Kerry’s voice was gloomy. ‘The man that was going to replace me when I was away rang up only yesterday to say he couldn’t take the job on after all.’

Daphne shook her head sympathetically as she handed her the coffee. ‘It’s such a terrible shame about your holiday.’

‘If only he’d waited to have this damn accident when I was safely in Tobago!’ Kerry said, then she grinned ruefully. ‘Oh, no. Forget I said that! Of course I’m very sorry for poor old Frank. He’s in a bad way and he certainly didn’t mean to crash his car. I guess it was at the end of a long day and he wasn’t concentrating.’

‘Could you not have gone anyway on a later flight perhaps and asked the medical centre in Laystone to take over?’

‘I don’t know if they could have taken it on at such short notice, and anyway,’ she admitted candidly, ‘I couldn’t possibly have left Frank, knowing how ill he is.’ Kerry took a gulp of the coffee and smiled, raising the cup in salute. ‘Now, this is doing me more good than anything could—a large injection of caffeine is just what I needed. And talking of holidays, you might go and put that bridesmaid’s dress in its box because every time I see it I want to cry! Oh, and by the way, would you please book a room for Frank’s brother at the Pear Tree? He’s coming up this afternoon to see Frank.’

Daphne’s round face beamed. ‘Not the gorgeous Dr Medic? Certainly I will—I shall ask him to give me an autograph for my mother—she’s potty about him. Watches every single programme he’s on and says he makes her feel better just looking and listening to him.’

Kerry raised an eyebrow. ‘He didn’t sound all that charming to me. More annoyed that he had to make time to come up here. I think he’s a crusty self-centred old bachelor!’

‘Don’t say that,’ protested Daphne, as she walked out. ‘I may have been married for seventeen years and have three children, but I can still dream about impossibly handsome men and romance, can’t I?’

She unhooked the bridesmaid’s dress from the wall and folded it carefully over her arm. ‘By the way, Liz Ferris wants you to go and see old Nellie Styles if you can. She had a another fall yesterday and Liz feels she needs an assessment prior to getting some carers in. Of course Nellie won’t have it—she told Liz that she wouldn’t allow any more community nurses in, she could manage fine by herself and she wasn’t having any of those meals on wheels either! ‘

Kerry laughed. Nellie Styles was a feisty and wilful old lady, but she couldn’t help admiring her. ‘I’ll go at lunchtime,’ she promised. ‘Then hopefully I’ll be back to greet Denovan O’Mara—but I’m not looking forward to it particularly. I have a feeling he and I might not hit it off!’

Inside Nellie Styles’s cottage it was very cold, and there was a general air of neglect about the place. The little home she took such pride in had deteriorated, thought Kerry sadly. A few months ago it had been spotless, every surface gleaming and the brasses round the fireplace twinkling. Now there were bundles of local papers and magazines littering the floor. The many photographs of Nellie’s scattered family were filmed with dust and there were dead flies on the windowsills and plates of uneaten food on the table in the living room. It was a picture of decline Kerry had seen before in some of her elderly infirm patients whose relations lived too far away to help. She would have to persuade Nellie somehow that the time had come to accept help.

The old lady was standing precariously by the door to her kitchen, clinging to the back of a bookcase. She had an old blanket wrapped round her shoulders and she looked pinched and cold. She turned round as Kerry entered, a frown crossing her face when she saw who it was.

‘I thought that nurse said Dr O’Mara was coming today,’ she said grumpily.

‘I’m afraid Dr O’Mara’s been in an accident and injured himself rather badly. I don’t think he’ll be back for a while.’

Nellie pursed her lips. ‘The way he screeches through the village in that car of his it’s a miracle he hasn’t come to grief before.’

The old lady turned back to her chair and staggered slightly as she let go of her support. Kerry went swiftly over to her and guided her gently back to her seat.

‘It’s a bit cold in here, Nellie, you haven’t got your fire on,’ she said, bending down and switching on the electric fire in the grate. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Not bad … not bad. Just a bit chilled, like, but what can you expect with this weather? I’ve not seen so much rain for many years.’

Kerry nodded—she’d had to cross parts of the road near Nellie’s that were awash with huge puddles, and even from here she could hear the river gushing as it flowed along the main village road.

‘Perhaps it’ll stop raining soon, it did look a little lighter over the hills,’ she said brightly. ‘Now, Nellie, have you had anything to eat or drink today?’

Nellie looked evasive. ‘I was just about to get myself a little something.’

‘A bowl of soup might warm you up—I can easily heat some in a saucepan—and before you say anything, it isn’t too much trouble.’

Kerry smiled at the old lady persuasively and was rewarded by a flicker of interest in her eyes. ‘Well, just to please you, like, a little bit in a cup would be grand.’

In a few minutes thin hands were clasped round the warm cup and Nellie was sipping the soup eagerly, a little colour returning to her pale cheeks. ‘That’s very nice, Doctor, but I could have got it myself, you know.’

‘I know you could, Nellie, but I want you to have a little rest for a while. I don’t think you’ve ever recovered your strength from that last infection.’

Nellie’s eyes flashed rebelliously. ‘I’m not going back into that hospital, whatever you say!’

Kerry patted her hand. ‘I don’t want you to, but I do want to get you some help, just for the time being. Someone who can bring you a little food every day and perhaps do your washing, build you up a little—otherwise you’re going to end up in hospital anyway.’

Nellie’s frail old face looked fiercely at Kerry for a minute, then slowly her expression changed to one of resignation and she nodded her head slowly. ‘Perhaps I am a bit run-down. If you could organise something, then—just temporary, mind!’

She must be feeling pretty awful to capitulate like that, thought Kerry. It was never easy to admit, after years of independence, that the time had come to be cared for.

‘I’ll see to it,’ promised Kerry. ‘In the meantime, Liz Ferris will be popping in to see that you’re OK.’

‘That Liz Ferris,’ grumbled Nellie. ‘She’s always getting on at me to put more fires on and get more food in. She must think I’m made of money!’

‘Now, now, Nellie—she’s only doing it for your own good, you know. We’re all very fond of you and want you to get stronger.’

Nellie looked slightly mollified. ‘I know, lass, I know.’ She took another sip of soup and then looked up at Kerry inquisitively. ‘So what will you do now without Dr O’Mara?’

‘Oh, I’m sure I can get someone to fill in fairly soon,’ said Kerry, with more assurance than she felt. She’d already been in touch with several agencies in the area with no luck.

‘I knew Frank O’Mara when he was a little boy—him and his brother. I used to do some cooking for them,’ said Nellie, taking another sip of soup. ‘Ee, they were chalk and cheese, those lads. And wild—always at each other’s throats! Of course,’ the old lady reminisced, ‘that father of theirs was hard on them, and after he lost his first wife and his second wife left them all so sudden, like—well, they were left to their own devices and they were right tearaways!’

‘I hope they’ve got over their differences now. His brother’s coming up this afternoon to see Dr Frank,’ said Kerry.

Nellie gave a cackle of laughter. ‘Well, you may get fireworks between them—their father was a difficult, womanising man—perhaps they’ve taken after him! I always wondered if that was why Denovan’s mother left—she was only young herself. But it was a cruel thing, if you ask me, to leave a young lad like that. You’ll have to act as referee between them, my dear!’

That’s the last thing I’m going to do, thought Kerry as she left the cottage. I shall stay well clear of both of them. She had enough on her plate without keeping the peace between two grown men! She had to admit, however, that the unexpected revelation Nellie had given about the O’Mara boys’ childhood was rather intriguing. It sounded as if their childhood had not been a happy one.

She drove back to the surgery. The rain still beating down remorselessly—she wasn’t surprised that the small car park was covered in huge puddles. A red sports car had taken the only dry slot near the staff spaces, so that Kerry had to park awkwardly against a wall and squeeze out of her door, putting her feet into a small pothole filled with water. She opened the boot and took out a large file and her medical bag, holding them in both arms as she picked her way over the flooded car park, the rain lashing down onto her and soaking her hair and clothes.

She squelched crossly into the building, hoping she could dry her feet out before the late afternoon surgery. Surely the day couldn’t get any worse! No happy holiday, just continual rain and cold and the prospect of weeks of hard work. Burdened by the things she was carrying, she opened the office door by pushing it with her back and going in backwards.

‘Some stupid idiot’s put their car in the only dry space,’ she complained to the office at large. ‘My feet are absolutely soaked.’

She dropped her files and bag on a chair and then a deep voice behind her made her whirl round.

‘Ah—I’m sorry about that. It’s my car taking the space. I’m afraid I didn’t realise it was the only dry spot.’

A tall man with tousled dark hair who had been lounging against the side of the desk unravelled himself and stood up. His gaze swept slowly over Kerry’s drenched figure and the dripping tendrils of hair plastered against her face, down to the soggy remnants of her shoes. Beside him, a small boy of about four years old, with a snub nose and round wire-rimmed glasses, sat on the desk, drumming his heels against the drawers.

‘You’re certainly very wet,’ he murmured.

Tell me something I don’t know, thought Kerry caustically, but she managed to disguise her irritation.

‘You must be Denovan, Frank’s brother,’ she observed. ‘I didn’t think you’d be as early as this.’ She looked at the small boy, now making little indentations with a pencil on the top of the desk. ‘And this is?’

‘This is Archie, my son,’ explained Denovan. ‘I had to bring him up with me as his nursery school closes in the afternoon and his childminder isn’t well.’ He smiled down at the child, and suddenly his stern face was softer, gentler. ‘I couldn’t leave you behind, could I, sweetheart?’

There was no mistaking the resemblance between the two—Archie was a miniature version of the man. She’d never heard Frank mention that Denovan had a child, or indeed of him having a partner. What an odd family they were. Kerry wondered where Archie’s mother was—perhaps she had a high-powered job that meant she wasn’t around in the evening?