Cort Mason - Dr Delectable

Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

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

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

About the Author

Epilogue

Copyright

Praise for Carol Marinelli:

‘A heartwarming story about taking a chance and not

letting the past destroy the future. It is strengthened by

two engaging lead characters and a satisfying ending.’

—RT Book Reviews on THE LAST KOLOVSKY PLAYBOY

‘Carol Marinelli writes with sensitivity,

compassion and understanding and

RESCUING PREGNANT CINDERELLA

is not just a powerful romance, but an uplifting

and inspirational tale about starting over,

new beginnings and moving on.’

—Cataromance on ST PIRAN’S: RESCUING PREGNANT CINDERELLA

PROLOGUE

‘You need to get back out there, Cort.’

‘Leave it, Elise.’

‘I won’t leave it,’ his sister said.

‘Beth’s only been dead for a month—do you really think it appropriate that I start getting “back out there”?’

And on anyone else his argument would have worked, but his sister was too matter-of-fact, and had been there through it all, and would not be swayed.

‘You’ve been grieving for her for years,’ Elise said. ‘You mourned Beth long, long, long before she died.’

‘So now I should suddenly start partying?’

‘You’ve never partied in your life.’ Elise grinned at her rather serious older brother. ‘So, no, I don’t expect you to start at thirty-two.’ Elise had come here not just to see how her brother was doing since Beth’s death but with intention too, and she was determined to see this conversation through. ‘But there is more to life than work. You need to start going out a bit, do something you haven’t done before, try new things …’

Cort knew she was right—had it been Elise in his position he’d have said exactly the same, except he just didn’t know how to start. Cort had moved back to Sydney three years ago and had chosen not to tell his colleagues about his other life in Melbourne. He had moved back to Sydney to get away from the endless questions from colleagues, and pointless platitudes that did nothing to help.

The last years had been spent working in Sydney and then travelling back to Melbourne on his days off to sit in a nursing home and watch a woman who had once been so educated, so dignified, dribble her food and strip naked at whim. He had watched endless seizures erode what had been left of her brain and, yes, Elise was right—bit by bit, over these past years he had mourned.

‘Say yes.’ Elise drained her glass and bade her brother goodnight.

‘Say yes to what?’ Cort asked.

‘Just say yes next time someone suggests something.’

‘Sure,’ Cort said with absolutely no intention of doing so.

‘For Beth,’ Elise said as she headed to his apartment door. ‘She’d hate both your lives to have been cut short that night.’

She was right.

Cort knew that. He crossed his apartment and could hear the ocean from the open French doors, but he closed them to shut out the roar and the noise, and the room fell silent. Not just from the sound of the ocean but from the roar and the noise in his head. Beth was gone.

CHAPTER ONE

‘ARE you free to give me a hand in the suture room?’ Cort Mason, the senior emergency registrar, asked, and Ruby swung around. ‘It might take a while, though.’

Ruby jumped down from the footstool she was perched on while restocking the cupboard and turned to the voice that was aimed in her direction. She decided that she’d be delighted to give him a hand.

It had nothing to do with the fact he was gorgeous.

Really, it had completely nothing to do with it.

She just wanted an empty Resus before it filled again, which it inevitably would. Sheila, the NUM, had told her to stay in there today, that this was her area, but with a senior registrar asking for her to assist with a patient, well, surely she had no choice in the matter?

None.

‘I’d be happy to.’ Ruby beamed, except her smile wasn’t returned. In fact, he wasn’t even waiting for her response. Already Cort had walked off and was heading into the suture room, rightly perhaps assuming that a student nurse wasn’t likely to say no to his request for assistance.

‘Mr Mason has asked if I can give him a hand.’ Ruby let Connor, the RN in charge of Resus, know where she was going. ‘Is that okay?’

‘Sure,’ Connor said. ‘It’s not as if we’re doing anything.’ He frowned at her. ‘Ruby, why have you got a crepe bandage in your hair?’

‘Sheila!’ Ruby rolled her eyes, because the NUM was surely out to get her. Not only had she insisted that Ruby be allocated the most grisly part of Emergency, she also had a thing about Ruby’s long auburn hair, which was so thick it often defied the hair ties and clips she attempted to hold it back with. This afternoon Sheila had handed her a bandage and told her to sort it once and for all.

‘She’s really got it in for you.’

‘I remind her of her daughter apparently—I’ve no idea why. Anyway, Mr Mason will be wondering where I’ve got to. He said it might take a while.’

‘You might as well go to coffee afterwards, then,’ Connor said. ‘And we’re on first-name terms here—it’s Cort.’

She’d stick with ‘Mr Mason’—her dad was Chief of Surgery at another hospital and had drilled it into her over the years just how important titles were so Ruby had decided it was better to play safe than offend anyone.

She had a quick look around for Sheila and seeing she was busy up the other end darted off, more relieved than Connor could know. Sheila had been very specific in her allocation, ensuring that Ruby was working in Resus, but apart from a febrile convulsion and couple of patients who had been brought over briefly while awaiting blood results it had been delightfully quiet.

‘Put some gloves on,’ Cort said as she entered the suture room. ‘I just need someone to hold Ted’s arm while I suture it. He keeps forgetting to stay still, don’t you, Ted?’

The elderly man grunted and Ruby could smell the brandy fumes that filled the small room.

‘How are you, Ted?’ Ruby asked, pulling on some gloves and looking at the wound, happy, though not for the patient, to see it was a huge cut that would hopefully take ages, and then it would be time for her coffee break and with her assessment and everything, well, she might just not have to go back out there.

She loathed Accident and Emergency, not that anyone could tell. She was always light, breezy and happy and had chosen not to tell even her closest friends just how hard this final unit of her training had been, knowing there was nothing they could do to fix it and choosing just to soldier on.

She had never expected to like it, but the loathing was so acute Ruby was seriously wondering if she would even make it through these last weeks of her training. There was no tangible reason for hating it, nothing Ruby could point to as the reason she hated it so, but walking to her shift, every ambulance that passed, every glimpse of Eastern Beaches Hospital made her want to turn tail and run for home.

Looking back, there had been a few wobbles that might have given warning that Emergency might be unsettling for her—a young man suddenly collapsing after a routine appendectomy and the crash team being called while she was on the surgical ward had stunned Ruby and made her question her decision to study nursing—but she had, for the most part, liked her training. Only liked, though—her real aim was to work as a mental health nurse, but general training was a prerequisite if she wanted to get anywhere in her future career.

‘Okay?’ Cort said. ‘We might be here a while, so I’d make yourself comfortable.’

He took off his jacket and tied on a plastic gown, then washed his hands, dragged a stool over with his foot and settled in for the long haul.

‘He’s asleep,’ Ruby said, stating the obvious, because Ted was snoring loudly now, and even Ruby could see that she might be better utilised elsewhere.

‘I don’t want to wrestle with him if he wakes up.’ He gave a tight smile. ‘Sorry if it’s boring.’

‘Oh, I’m not bored. I’m delighted to be here,’ Ruby said, hearing a noise from outside, a relative arguing with a security guard close to the suture-room door. She gave Cort a wide smile, a smile so bright that he hesitated for a moment before returning it with a slightly bemused one, then he turned his attention back to his patient. He cleaned the wound and injected anaesthetic as Ruby watched and only then did he offer a response, not looking at her, just concentrating on the wound as he spoke.

‘It’s not often you hear that in this place.’

‘What?’ Ruby asked, her mind elsewhere.

‘People saying that they’re delighted to be here.’

‘I’m a happy apple,’ Ruby said, and watched as his hands stopped, the first knot of the stitch neatly tied. He seemed to be waiting for her to do something.

‘Are you going to cut?’

‘Oh!’ She picked up the scissors with her free hand. ‘I feel like a real nurse. Where do I cut?’ She held the scissors over the thread.

‘A bit shorter.’

There was something lovely and soothing about sitting here and actually doing something, rather than just holding the patient’s hand. And contrary to what she’d heard, Cort Mason was far from grumpy. One on one with him, he was really rather nice.

She’d heard his name mentioned a lot of times. He’d been on annual leave for the first four weeks of her time here and had only been back a week, but he was nothing like the man she’d imagined, the staid man her colleagues had led her to believe he was.

Nothing.

From the way she’d heard people speaking about him Ruby had expected a dour serious man in his fifties.

Instead he’d be in his thirties, with brown hair and hazel eyes, a long straight nose and, not so much dour, or sharp, just … She couldn’t really sum him up in word, and she tried for a moment Outside the suture room, she’d never been privy to small talk with him, had never really seen him smile. He was formal with the patients, distant with the staff, and any hint of ineptness or bureaucracy seemed to irritate him.

Crabby was the best she could come up with.

Except he wasn’t being crabby now.

Ruby looked at his white thick cotton shirt and lilac tie, which was an odd sort of match for his brown suit, yet it went really well and she wondered, just for a second, how it was really possible to find someone who wore a brown suit attractive—except he was.

Up close he really, really was.

There was a lovely fresh scent to him and she thought it came from his hair, which was very close to her face as he bent over to work. She looked at it, and it was lovely and glossy and very straight and neat but there was a jagged edge to the cut that she liked too.

‘Cut,’ Cort reminded her when her eyes wandered, and she snipped the neat stitch he’d tied. ‘I need some more 4/0.’

‘You’re really making me earn my keep!’ Ruby jumped off the stool and tried to locate what he wanted amongst box upon box of different sutures.

‘Left,’ Cort said, to her hand that hovered. ‘Up one,’ he said.

‘Got it.’ She opened the material and tipped it on his tray then washed her hands and again pulled on some gloves before rejoining him. Cort was having another good look at the wound so there was nothing much for her to do and her eyes roamed the room again, landing on his jacket hanging on the door.

‘It’s not really brown,’ she said out loud, and then she blushed, because she did this far too often. Ruby had zero attention span and her mind was constantly chatting and occasionally words just slipped out.

He glanced up and saw her cheeks were bright pink.

‘Your jacket,’ Ruby croaked. ‘It’s not really brown.’

He said nothing, just carried on checking the wound, but his lips twitched for a moment, because he’d had a similar discussion with the shop assistant.

Sick to the back teeth of dour greys and navy suits, he’d bought a couple of new ones, and some shirts and ties. He wasn’t a great shopper, hated it, in fact, and had decided to put his faith in the judgement of the eager shop assistant. But when she’d held up the suit he’d baulked and said there was no way he was wearing brown.

Brown was the sort of thing his father wore, Cort had said to her.

‘It’s not brown,’ the shop assistant had said. ‘It’s taupe.’

‘It’s taupe.’ After a few minutes’ silence, he glanced up to the rather surprised eyes of Ruby. ‘Apparently.’

‘Well, it’s very nice.’

And he didn’t quite smile, but there was just a hint as he got back to his stitches and he saw her hands were just a little bit shaky when she snipped, though he was sure they had been steady before.

He didn’t look up, but he could see her in his mind’s eye for a moment. She was quite a stunning little thing—tiny, with very dark brown eyes and a thick curtain of hair that he’d heard Sheila pull her up about a few times. It was held back today with a ridiculous bandage, but defiantly kept escaping. It was lovely hair, red but not …

‘It’s not really ginger …’ Cort said, and still didn’t look up.

‘Absolutely not,’ was Ruby’s response.

‘Auburn?’

‘Close,’ came her voice. ‘But I prefer titian.’

And he gave a very brief nod and then worked on quietly. It was actually a lovely silence, just nice to sit and watch him work, especially as she could hear things starting to pick up outside. She could hear Connor calling out for assistance and feet running and though it was par for the course here, she screwed her eyes closed for just a second, but he must have looked up and noticed.

‘You okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t need to cut if it’s making you feel sick—just hold his hand.’

‘Really, I’m fine,’ Ruby said, because a nasty cut and tendons and muscle and all of that didn’t bother her a jot.

It was out there that did.

It wasn’t a fear of seeing people sick, Ruby thought as she snipped Cort’s stitches, and it wasn’t a fear of death because she’d actually enjoyed some agency shifts on the palliative care ward.

It was this, Ruby thought as a buzzer sounded and Cort looked up.

This moment, which arrived at any given time, the intense drama that was constantly played out here, and it actually made her feel physically ill.

‘Do you need me?’ She heard Cort shout in the direction of Resus, ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice, and Ruby sat, staring at the hand she was holding, sweat beading on her forehead. She would hold this hand all night if only it meant that she didn’t have to go out there.

‘Jamelia’s here,’ came Sheila’s voice, and because apparently Cort liked to be kept up to date with everything, her voice came closer to the open suture-room door.

‘We’ve got a head and facial injuries. He arrested at the approach to the hospital and they’re having trouble intubating.’

‘I’ll come.’

‘There’s no need,’ Sheila called. ‘Jamelia’s got it and the anaesthetist is on his way.’ But he wasn’t listening. Already he’d peeled off his gloves and was pulling off his plastic apron. ‘Wait here,’ he called over his shoulder. Given he was halfway through stitching, and the patient couldn’t be left, Ruby had no choice but to sit and wait, which she did for a full ten or fifteen minutes before Cort returned, and if she’d seen him crabby this past week, he was really angry now.

She could feel it as he tied on a new gown and washed his hands.

‘What the hell was that?’ Sheila was less than impressed as she swung into the room. ‘I told you we had it under control.’

‘No. You told me they were having trouble intubating. Jamelia gets nervous …’

‘Well, she’s never going to get any confidence if you keep coming in and taking over.’

‘So, what?’ Cort said. ‘Do we just let her stumble through and kill off a few more brain cells?’

‘Give her a go, would you?’ Sheila responded.

‘No,’ Cort said, and didn’t qualify further, even as Sheila waited, but when Cort remained silent, Sheila turned her frustration back to its regular recipient.

‘What are you doing here, Ruby? I told you! I specifically told you not to leave Resus.’

‘Mr Mason asked me to come and hold an arm.’ Ruby gulped.

‘Someone else could have done that. Now you’ve missed watching an emergency tracheotomy …’

‘Oh.’ Ruby wondered how she could even attempt to sound disappointed at having missed out on seeing that! ‘That’s a shame.’

‘A shame?’ Sheila replied. ‘Are you being sarcastic?’

‘I asked her to come in here.’ Cort intervened as Ruby struggled for a better response. ‘She was sorting out a cupboard, so I thought I’d give her—’

‘I’ll deal with my nurses, thanks, Cort.’ She turned back to Ruby. ‘I’m sick of this, Ruby …’ She shook her head in frustration. ‘I haven’t got time for this right now. I’ll speak to you at your assessment this evening. Bring a coffee,’ she added. ‘We might be there for a while.’

Sheila stormed off, and Cort carried on stitching as Ruby sat there with cheeks flaming. Cort knew that if he didn’t deal with this situation now, he’d forget about it or miss out on seeing Sheila later, and with a small hiss born of frustration and anger he stood again, peeled off another pair of gloves and waded out into the department, leaving Ruby sitting there.

‘It’s not her fault.’ Cort walked into Resus and straight up to Sheila, who was coming off the phone to ICU. ‘What is a student supposed to say when a senior registrar asks her to come and do something for him? She checked with Connor …’

‘Ruby finds excuses all the time, Cort,’ Sheila said. ‘She’d do anything to avoid work and you just gave her the perfect excuse. She searches for them …’

‘She didn’t, though,’ Cort said. ‘I approached her.’

‘Fine,’ Sheila said. ‘I’ll bear it in mind. Right now I’ve got more important things to deal with.’ Cort looked over to the screened area where Sheila was heading, where the team was working solidly. He caught Jamelia’s eye and she came over.

‘Thanks, Cort.’ Jamelia meant it. The hellish intubation had turned into a nightmare just as Cort had arrived and she was incredibly grateful that Cort had taken over when he had.

‘Call for help,’ Cort said, ‘preferably before you really need it.’

Jamelia nodded.

‘So,’ Ruby said when he returned to the suture room. ‘It looks like we’re both in trouble.’

‘I’m not in trouble,’ Cort said. ‘I’m just running out of size 9 gloves.’

He sat down and blew up his hair, because it really was warm in the suture room and he was still so angry he could spit. ‘There’s a big difference,’ he said, ‘between hero and ego. If you take anything from this place—take that.’

Ruby nodded.

‘I told Sheila it wasn’t your fault,’ he added as she snipped the last of the stitches.

‘Thanks,’ Ruby said. ‘Though I doubt it will help.’

He wanted to ask more, wanted to find out why she was in trouble, but he didn’t want to wonder more about her as well. She stayed quiet as he finished the neat row of sutures then he asked her to put on a dressing, thanked her for her help, peeled off the plastic gloves and washed his hands.

‘Cort.’ Jamelia came to the door and it sounded an awful lot as if she’d been crying. ‘Would you mind …?’ She gave a small swallow. ‘Would you mind talking to the relatives for me?’

‘I’ll come and take a look at him first.’ Cort nodded and picked up his jacket just as Sheila bustled in.

‘Jamelia, the relatives really do need to be spoken to ASAP.’

‘I’m going to do it,’ Cort said.

‘You go with Cort.’ Sheila glanced over at Ruby. ‘I’ll finish up in here.’

Ruby would have preferred an emergency tracheotomy, even ten of them, rather than the prospect of sitting with relatives as bad news was delivered, and she fumbled for yet another excuse. ‘Connor said I was to go straight to coffee after doing this.’

‘You couldn’t say no to the senior reg when he asked you to do something for him, I can understand that.’ Sheila fixed her with a stare. ‘So don’t say no to the NUM.’

Ruby nodded and swallowed and glanced up to Cort.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I just want to see for myself how he is first.’

They walked into Resus and the anaesthetist gave Cort a full briefing. Ruby stood quietly and looked at the young man for a moment then looked away as Cort examined his eyes and his ears and checked his reflexes for himself. She could hear all the anaesthetist was saying and it sounded a lot less than hopeful.

‘Let’s do this, then.’

They walked down the corridor to the little interview room and just as they got there, Ruby was quite sure that she couldn’t go in.

‘I don’t know what to say,’ she admitted, and Cort turned round briefly.

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ Cort said. ‘Come on.’

And she wanted to turn, wanted to run. For a full three seconds she seriously considered it, except he’d knocked and opened the door and there was a whole family whose eyes turned anxiously towards them. A nurse running off would only terrify them more than they were already.

It was the only reason she forced herself to go in.

CHAPTER TWO

COULD he not give them a little more hope?

Ruby sat in with the family and listened as Cort gave the grim diagnosis.

‘The paramedics were unable to intubate him,’ Cort reiterated.

‘But he was bagged …’ The young man’s sister was a nurse and she was absolutely not having it, refusing to accept the grim diagnosis. ‘He would have got some oxygen. And it was just a couple of minutes from the hospital when he went into respiratory arrest.’

‘Yes,’ Cort said. ‘However, his airway was severely obstructed, so we’re not sure how effective that was. His head injuries are extensive too,’ he added, and the ping-pong match went on as Ruby sat there, the family demanding more hope than Cort would permit.

‘We’re going to move him up to ICU within the next half hour—they’re just preparing for him.’

‘Can we see him first?’

‘Brief ly,’ Cort said, then he warned them all what to expect and Ruby just sat there. He told them it would be a little while till they were able to go in, but someone would be along just as soon as they could to fetch them.