Prescription: Love Read online

  What the hell had she been thinking?

  Zoe paced the length of her living room, arms wrapped around herself. She knew better than to get involved with someone on staff, but when she got near Chris Taylor, she didn’t seem to think at all.

  A wave of longing shivered through her as she heard his truck drive away.

  When he’d kissed her, she felt it down to her toes. Heat flashed through her as she recalled how she lost herself in his arms. He was a passionate and generous lover who held nothing back, expecting no more than her full surrender in return.

  The passion they shared was intoxicating, but her vulnerability when she felt herself spinning out of control was scary as hell.

  PRESCRIPTION: LOVE

  PAMELA TOTH

  This book is dedicated with appreciation to the staff of Evergreen Hospital in Kirkland, WA, and to healthcare workers everywhere for taking such good care of the rest of us when we need you the most.

  Books by Pamela Toth

  Silhouette Special Edition

  Thunderstruck #411

  Dark Angel #515

  Old Enough To Know Better #624

  Two Sets of Footprints #729

  A Warming Trend #760

  Walk Away, Joe #850

  The Wedding Knot #905

  Rocky Mountain Rancher #951

  *Buchanan’s Bride #1012

  *Buchanan’s Baby #1017

  *Buchanan’s Return #1096

  The Paternity Test #1138

  The Mail-Order Mix-Up #1197

  *Buchanan’s Pride #1239

  The Baby Legacy #1299

  Millionaire Takes a Bride #1353

  †Cattleman’s Honor #1502

  †Man Behind the Badge #1514

  †A Winchester Homecoming #1562

  In the Enemy’s Arms #1610

  Prescription: Love #1669

  Silhouette Romance

  Kissing Games #500

  The Ladybug Lady #595

  PAMELA TOTH,

  a USA TODAY bestselling author, was born in Wisconsin, but grew up in Seattle where she attended the University of Washington and majored in art. Now living on the Puget Sound area’s east side, she has two daughters, Erika and Melody, and two Siamese cats.

  Recently she took a lead from one of her romances and married her high school sweetheart, Frank. They live in a town house within walking distance of a bookstore and an ice-cream shop, two of life’s necessities, with a fabulous view of Mount Rainier. When she’s not writing, she enjoys traveling with her husband, reading, playing FreeCell on the computer, doing counted cross-stitch and researching new story ideas. She’s been an active member of Romance Writers of America since 1982.

  Her books have won several awards and they claim regular spots on the Waldenbooks bestselling romance list. She loves hearing from readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 5845, Bellevue, WA 98006.

  Contents

  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 One

  When Chris Taylor parted the striped curtains that separated the emergency-room cubicles, he immediately noticed a pale, frightened-looking young woman lying on the exam table in a flowered hospital gown. Her tightly clenched fist was pressed against her mouth, the knuckles a pale contrast to the thin gold band on her finger. Standing beside her was a tall, bone-thin fellow wearing an equally anxious expression on his unshaven face.

  Carrie, one of the E.R. nurses, had already drawn blood and started a saline IV.

  “This is Dr. Taylor,” she told the couple, with a quick smile at Chris. “Sally Martin, age twenty-two, fifteen weeks into her first pregnancy, with mild cramps—”

  “They won’t stop,” the man interrupted, twisting a red baseball cap in his big, rough-looking hands. “She took a home pregnancy test a few weeks ago, but she hasn’t been to see a doctor yet.” He glanced at his wife. “Not a regular doctor.”

  Understanding what he meant, Chris didn’t take offense, nor did he react to Carrie’s eye roll from behind the man’s shoulder.

  The couple didn’t look familiar, but Chris wasn’t surprised. When he had first come back to Thunder Canyon after completing his residency in Chicago, the small Montana town hadn’t changed much, even though its historical setting always drew tourists. A couple of months ago, though, a new vein had been accidentally discovered at the abandoned mine. As news spread about the find, a wave of newcomers, burning with gold fever, had begun pouring in to the area.

  From the worn condition of the husband’s plaid work jacket and the dirt on his heavy boots, he was probably either a prospector or some type of laborer who had no health insurance. To Chris, who was thirty-two, they both looked young enough to be in high school.

  “You did the right thing coming in.” He glanced at Carrie, who reeled off Sally’s stats and vital signs. Chris wasn’t surprised to hear that her pressure was low.

  “CBC, type and cross match,” he said as a tech poked her head through the curtains. “Sharon, call someone down from Labor and Delivery to consult.” A pregnancy of less than twenty weeks would be treated right in the E.R. by one of the OB/GYN residents.

  “Yes, Doctor.” She left quickly with the vials of blood.

  “Are you bringing in a specialist?” The young patient spoke for the first time, her high voice laced with panic. “Am I in labor? Oh, God. It’s way too soon!” she cried, clinging to her husband’s hand.

  “Easy, easy,” Chris said calmly. “Try to relax. It’s just routine, but we’ll know more after we examine you.”

  Sally bit her lip as tears shimmered in her dark eyes. “I got scared when the cramps started, so I tried to call my mom back in Idaho, but she wasn’t home from her job.”

  Her husband had turned so pale that Chris hoped he wasn’t about to pass out. It wouldn’t be the first time a prospective father had kissed the tile floor, but it would be a lot more helpful if he stayed strong and supportive.

  “When I got off work, Sally had been spotting for a while, so I brought her straight in,” he explained, giving his wife an apologetic look. “We only have one car. I carry a cell phone, but the battery went dead.”

  The tech stuck her head back through the opening in the curtains. “Dr. Hart is on her way down,” she reported.

  Chris ignored his unprofessional leap of anticipation at the sound of her name. “Why don’t you show Mr. Martin where he can wait until we’re done,” he suggested. Conducting a pelvic exam was usually less awkward without a husband looking on.

  The expression on the man’s long face reflected his indecision. “Honey?”

  Her lip quivered as she looked up at him. “You go,” she said. “I’ll be okay.” With obvious reluctance, she unpeeled her fingers from their death grip on his hand.

  “We’ll come for you as soon as we know something,” Chris promised as Sharon herded the husband from the cubicle.

  Almost immediately, Zoe Hart appeared in his place. Although the stunning brunette had been working at the hospital for several weeks, the jolt of reaction Chris felt each time he saw her always took him by surprise. He did his best to ignore it, since mooning over one of the residents, even one who didn’t report directly to him, was a complication that his life didn’t need.

  “Thanks for brightening up the E.R.,” he said with a grin he didn’t try to hide, as he got to his feet. “Sally, this is Dr. Hart. She’s come all the way from sunny California just to help
us out.”

  The resident’s expression revealed nothing, but Sally looked relieved to see another woman.

  “Dr. Taylor.” As Zoe acknowledged his introduction before giving the patient a perfunctory glance, her voice was as smooth as blended whiskey. “What’s the situation?”

  “And this is Sally Martin,” Chris continued. Sometimes new doctors needed a subtle reminder that they treated people, not just cases and body parts.

  Even pressed together into a straight line of obvious annoyance as they were now, Zoe’s lips were as sensual and plump as pink satin pillows. He had overheard one of the male residents refer to her as an “ice queen,” but more than once Chris had glimpsed a spark of temperament—quickly hidden—in her gorgeous blue eyes. Was there passion beneath her cool facade? One of these days, he was going to find out for himself. But right now, the patient deserved his complete attention.

  “I’ll check back,” he said reluctantly. An OB/GYN resident didn’t need his help with a simple exam.

  Zoe washed up at the sink and donned her gloves, her cheeks burning from the implied criticism she’d heard in the other doctor’s tone. He was the head of the E.R., so she had to be careful.

  Just because she didn’t ooze folksy charm from every pore like some people didn’t mean that she didn’t care deeply about her patients, she thought with a spurt of resentment. The ability to focus totally on the condition being presented, rather than allowing herself to become sidetracked by trivial banter, helped her to be a more capable physician.

  The sight of Dr. Taylor’s shaggy, dark blond hair and rumpled scrubs always made her feel as though she had just stepped onto the set of a soap opera back in L.A., not a genuine—and surprisingly modern—medical center in the wilds of Montana. His chiseled features and brawny build could have been a major distraction if Zoe were susceptible to that kind of rugged hunkiness. But his apparent small-town mentality and lack of vision set her teeth on edge.

  According to the overworked and ever-humming hospital grapevine, Christopher Taylor had grown up in this backwater town and he planned to die here. That kind of lazy shortsightedness was a waste of his talents that she was unable to fathom.

  While the nurse prepared everything for the exam, she filled Zoe in on the patient’s symptoms. There was nothing unusual about the case.

  “Nice to meet you, Sally,” Zoe said briskly as soon as Carrie was done speaking. “Go ahead and put your feet into the stirrups and scoot all the way down for me, okay? I’ll be checking the opening to your cervix to determine whether it’s dilated.”

  The poor girl looked scared to death, her eyes wide and her lips bloodless. “What if it is?” she asked in a small voice as she complied awkwardly with Zoe’s instructions, doing her best to keep her gown from sliding up as she moved down.

  Zoe felt a tug of compassion that she immediately pushed aside in order to prevent herself from being distracted by emotion. “Then we’ll have to do a D&C.”

  Ignoring Sally’s gasp, she proceeded with the exam. When she was finished, she peeled off her gloves and dropped them into the trash can. The husband was brought back to the cubicle and Dr. Taylor reappeared as though he’d been signaled.

  “The cervix is still closed, so there’s no reason to admit you today,” Zoe explained to the patient. “However, bed rest is essential. If the cramping and spotting doesn’t stop, it’s important that you get medical attention right away.”

  “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy,” promised the husband as he stroked his wife’s arm.

  She remained silent, her eyes still wet from the tears that had started to roll silently down her cheeks at the mention of a possible D&C.

  “Good,” Zoe replied briskly. “We’ll just have to wait and see whether or not you’re able to maintain the pregnancy.” As she paused for breath, a soft moan escaped Sally Martin’s bloodless lips, followed by a flood of fresh tears.

  Zoe hesitated. “I’m sorry,” she added, feeling inadequate for the first time since she had entered the cubicle. “There’s nothing else we can do.”

  As the husband leaned down to awkwardly pat his wife’s shoulder, Zoe glanced expectantly at the head of the E.R. For once his smile was absent, making her wonder if she had missed something. This was a textbook case, she reassured herself, nothing complicated, and she had followed recommended procedure to the letter.

  Dr. Taylor gave her a nod of dismissal. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  With a tiny shrug and a last glance at the prone woman, Zoe excused herself. As she walked away, she heard the other doctor’s deep voice as he made a remark about Boise, Idaho—another faux-western town that Zoe had no desire to visit unless it was hosting a medical convention.

  Hands tucked into the pockets of her white coat, she blew out a breath as she dodged a scurrying lab tech who was pushing a cart. From the E.R. waiting room, Zoe could hear a child crying. A man shouted and a doctor attempted to calm him. Other voices rose and fell, some loud and others soothing. The phone at the triage station rang repeatedly and somewhere a door slammed. The wail of a siren was cut off abruptly as an ambulance approached the building. From behind a nearby curtain, a doctor snapped out instructions while the surgeon on duty was paged over the intercom.

  After Zoe stopped at the vending machine for a chocolate bar, she headed for the elevators and the comparably tranquil environment of her regular department with a feeling of relief. She was a resident in Obstetrics and Gynecology on the second-floor maternity wing. Since her recent arrival at Thunder Canyon General, she had been called down to the E.R. for consultations on several occasions, but she didn’t enjoy the often chaotic atmosphere.

  “Hey, hey, Doc Hart,” exclaimed one of the brash male interns when she passed him. “You been slumming?”

  “Looks like,” she replied without slowing her stride. Making friends with every horny male staff member who considered himself a player didn’t interest her. She couldn’t wait to get away before someone summoned her to help out with a new crisis. The E.R. was often understaffed, but her skills were better suited elsewhere.

  You never knew what you’d be assisting with next down here—a car accident, burns or some other grisly injury, an unwashed miner with an infected toenail or a patient who puked on your shoes, as a little boy had done all over Zoe’s new white Nikes just last week. Despite her best cleanup efforts, the laces were still stained.

  Absently she watched for Dr. Taylor as she pushed the up button. Let him keep his quaint western town, his cowboy boots and his laid-back, rural Montana lifestyle, she grumbled silently. She was surprised that he didn’t fill in the neckline of his scrubs with a fancy bolo tie—complete with a stone the color and size of a robin’s egg.

  Even though a unique opportunity had lured Zoe to this hospital, she could hardly wait to complete her residency in Thunder Canyon—which she privately thought of as Lightning Gulch, the hicksville hell-hole—so she could return home. She’d only been in Montana for a few weeks, but she was already more than ready to brush the hay from her designer jeans and race back to Southern California with its sunshine, its energy and its gourmet restaurants. She even missed the trendy boutiques and their wealthy, shallow patrons.

  If she wasn’t careful, she’d turn into Paris Hilton before she realized what was happening.

  Despite Zoe’s aversion to unnecessary gore, vomit and other body secretions, she was passionate about the practice of medicine, especially women’s health issues. The delivery of a healthy baby still made her throat go tight. Her mission, besides completing her residency before she went stir-crazy, was to learn as much as she could from the director of her department.

  As the elevator doors finally slid open, spilling out its passengers, Dr. Taylor strolled up beside her.

  “Dr. Hart, I’d like to speak with you if you have a moment before you leave us,” he said before she could escape. “This way, please.” Without waiting for her reply, he led the way in to one of the larger treatment rooms.<
br />
  Zoe maintained a confident expression, standing as tall as she possibly could while he closed the door. Even if he hadn’t been wearing the western boots that looked so ridiculous with his scrubs, he would still tower above her middling height.

  Her mind raced as he studied her silently. Refusing to fall into the trap of blurting out something stupid in order to break the uncomfortable silence, she thrust out her chin and waited him out.

  “You’re a talented doctor,” he said abruptly.

  She nearly sagged with relief before managing to catch herself. Apparently his reason for the detour had merely been to pay her a compliment.

  “Thank you,” she replied.

  “You could be better,” he added, catching her by surprise.

  “Was there a problem with the way I handled this case?” she demanded, bracing her hands on her hips.

  Zoe’s mother, a successful real-estate salesperson, had warned her that men in authority were sometimes intimidated by confident women. Zoe would rather stand her ground than be run over.

  Without his habitual smile, Dr. Taylor didn’t look like the type to be easily intimidated by anyone. “Not in the way you’re thinking,” he said, looking regretful. “The problem, as I see it, is with you, Doctor. I’m afraid you’re not showing me something that I consider to be extremely important.”

  He didn’t have a reputation for sarcasm or shouting, not even when someone screwed up or wasn’t prepared, so the bluntness of his statement now stunned her as would an open-handed blow to her face.

  “W-what do you mean?” she stammered, before she regained her composure.

  “I’ll bet everything has come pretty easily to you all your life,” he mused.

  She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of his comment or, at the very least, tell him that he didn’t know what he was talking about. However, a lowly resident didn’t speak to a supervisor in that manner if the resident wanted a decent evaluation, so she bit her tongue.