Turning his life around, Luke Wynter had worked hard to become a doctor, to give back to the community he'd taken from years ago. And he had been doing just fine...until Leilani Stephens snuck back into his life. Twelve years ago she had made it clear that she no longer considered him a friend, let alone a lover. And he'd never been one to plead or beg.
Now he felt drawn to her all over again--yet felt that something was unsettled, unfinished. Unsaid.
What had Leilani been hiding from him all these years?
There are no customer reviews available at this time. Would you like to write a review?
April 01, 2007
Number of Print Pages*
Adobe DRM EPUB
* Number of eBook pages may differ. Click here for more information.
Excerpt from Daddy on Call by Judy Duarte
Dr. Luke Wynter had only started his shift an hour ago, but he'd already sent his third broken bone of the day up to radiology, stitched up a nasty wound on an elderly woman's brow, admitted a five-year-old for dehydration and diagnosed three cases of the flu that had been plaguing the area.
"Doctor, we've got an ambulance coming in with a pregnant woman who's been badly beaten by her boyfriend."
Luke glanced up from the chart he'd been reading and addressed Marge Bagley, a fifty-something RN who could run circles around the first-year residents and mentor those who'd acquired their fair share of rotations. "What's the estimated time of arrival?, "Three minutes or less."
He nodded, then quickly completed his task. Marge was one of Luke's favorite nurses. Together, she and he worked the night shift at Oceana General. He wouldn't say they'd become friends, since they never associated outside the hospital, but they'd developed a healthy respect for one another and had shared plenty of overbrewed coffee.
Luke had a few friends, mostly the guys who'd become known as Logan's Heroes, a group of men who'd once been delinquents but had turned their lives around thanks to the guidance of Detective Harry Logan. But for the most part, he didn't socialize much. Hell, how could he when he worked nights and required a few zeess to function?
"Showtime," Marge whispered, as she nodded toward the paramedics rushing through the door.
"Take her into room three," Luke said as he walked alongside the stretcher, conducting a quick assessment of the victim's injuries and taking note of the vitals being announced by Craig Elwood, one of the paramedics.
"Who did this to her?, Luke asked.
"Apparently, a jealous boyfriend. He held the cops at bay for a while, then slipped out the back."
The bastard had done a real number on her, and Luke hoped the police caught the guy. he'd be facing assault charges if she lived, homicide if she didn't.
Marge, who walked with them, asked, " Does she have any family members coming in?"
Luke knew the RN was asking about next of kin. "She's got a friend coming in behind us, driving her own vehicle. Her name's Lonnie, I think. The patient's name is Carrie Summers."
Luke nodded, then ordered a battery of tests and scans. The patient--or rather the victim in this case-- had suffered a dislocated jaw, a head injury and possible internal bleeding. Luke wasn't sure whether he could save her life, let alone that of the baby she carried.
But he was up for a fight. In fact, he always had been, only now he battled death.
"Who's the resident neurosurgeon?, Luke asked Marge.
"Dick Wofford. And I've already called him. I also pagedArlene Gray. She's on duty in obstetrics tonight."
Luke liked working with Marge. She seemed to know what he was thinking. During the downtime, when they were free to make light of things, he called her "Radar," like the character on M.A.S.H.
Always one to dish it back, Marge referred to him as Hot Lips, although he suspected it had nothing to do with the classic television show and everything to do with a particular blonde lab technician who'd kissed and told.
As Luke worked on the patient and ordered more tests and scans, Dick Wofford arrived, followed by Arlene Gray. Together, they decided the best treatment for mother and child. Neither specialist was any more optimistic than Luke, and both commended him for his treatment thus far.
Marge, who'd slipped out of the room momentarily, returned. "The victim's friend just arrived, and I sent her to the waiting room near the ICU."
It was, Luke realized, the best place for the friend to wait. The neurosurgeon would be making the call on whether the critically injured woman needed surgery or not, but either way, she would be spending time in intensive care.