The Patient Nurse (Mills & Boon M&B) (Man of the Month, Book 52) by Diana Palmer

Author:Diana Palmer [Palmer, Diana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2014-02-27T18:30:00+00:00

Noreen was able to walk around the unit three times the next day, with Brad lending her his support. She laughed at her own light-headedness, but she kept on, grinning at the nurses as she trundled along. Several of the patients were up walking today. All of them were steadily improving and looking healthier. The stimulation of walking kept the new valve working and helped clear her lungs and build her strength back up. She never doubted that she was going to be able to walk out of here within days. Her pleasure showed in her face.

At least, it did until Ramon came onto the ward and she saw him in her path. Her brilliant smile faded. Her eyes went lackluster and her gaze dropped abruptly to the floor. Her hand clung tight to Brad’s long arm.

“Good,” Ramon said, ignoring her lack of animation. “Walking is just what you need to do, as often as you can manage. It will make your recovery easier.”

“This is our third time around,” Brad told him. “She’s making progress.”

“Yes, so I see.”

“We need to move on,” she told Brad. “I get wobbly when I stand still.”

“Brad, you’re needed in 310,” one of the nurses called. “Mr. Sharp says his medicine’s running out on the breathing machine.”

Brad hated to desert her, and his expression reflected it. “I’ll take her the rest of the way around,” Ramon said, moving to take Brad’s place. “See to your patient.”

“Yes, sir,” Brad said, casting an apologetic glance at Noreen, who looked as if she’d just been turned over to the headsman.

“It won’t kill you to touch me,” Ramon said tersely, guiding her hand to his forearm. “Come on. Walk.”

She did, hating him, hating the curious glances of the other workers—it was unusual for a surgeon to take time to loiter with a patient while he was doing rounds.

“How’s the pain?” he asked as they rounded the nurses’ station.

“Better,” she said through her teeth.

He only nodded, drawing her along beside him slowly until they were back at her room. He helped her into bed, took off her slippers, unhooked her breathing tube from the oxygen cylinder and refitted it to the wall unit before the technician appeared to do it.

He took his stethoscope and listened to her chest while she struggled with weakness and breathlessness and her own helpless reaction to his proximity.

His black eyes met her light ones at point-blank range. He didn’t move at all.

“My chest hurts,” she said uneasily.

“I’ll have them bring you something for it.” He pulled the sheet up to her waist. “Are you warm enough?”

“Yes. Of course.” She lowered her eyes to his tie.

She heard his slow, deep intake of breath. “You haven’t asked about your kitten.”

She was trying desperately to control her breathing. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. You’ll be glad to have her back when you go home.”

“Yes.”

He smiled faintly. “I’ve gotten used to her.”

“There are plenty of homeless kittens in the world,” she said noncommittally.

“I was hoping I might be allowed visitation rights,” he replied.

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