Marrying the Playboy Doctor - By Laura Iding Page 0,4

open heart surgery, after a full arrest and resuscitation. Seth’s shoulders slumped and he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I see. I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from the cardiothoracic team in Milwaukee yet?”

Michael shook his head. “No, but I’ve been busy. I just finished my last case for the day.”

Seth understood. He’d been busy, too. The hospital census had been jumping lately, and the ED in particular had been one nonstop revolving door.

“Seth, she’s not your mother,” Michael said softly.

“I know.” His sharp response caused Michael to raise his brows in surprise. Michael, along with many other hospital staff members, had attended the funeral. Seth had appreciated his colleague’s support through the difficult time. “My mother didn’t die of a heart attack. She had an aneurysm in her brain. But Marilyn is the same age, and I just wish we’d been quick enough to save her.”

“You were.” Michael clapped his hand on Seth’s shoulder in a reassuring gesture. “We’ve given her a chance, Seth. Not just once, after you brought her back in the ED, but now again, in surgery. She could have died in the ambulance on the way over, or in the ED, or in the cath lab—but she didn’t.”

“Yeah.” Yet with each setback her chances of survival grew slimmer. Seth knew his friend was right, but he couldn’t get over the feeling that their efforts hadn’t been good enough. Second-guessing yourself wasn’t always helpful, though, so he tried to change the subject. “I hope you’ve been practicing your pitching. The big baseball game is only a week away.”

Michael grinned. “As a matter of fact I have. Don’t worry, we have a good chance of winning.”

The Cedar Bluff Hospital’s annual baseball game had become a highly competitive event. Each year the nurses challenged the physicians, and despite the gender differences—there were generally more women nurses than men, and more male physicians than female—the games were very close. The winning team got free meals in the hospital cafeteria for a month. Not that he really cared about the food, but Seth did like to win.

His motto was to live in the moment. Because life was too short for regrets.

“Do you want to head out to the batting cage?” Michael asked.

Seth glanced at his watch. “Not tonight. Maybe this weekend, though.”

“You’re on,” Michael agreed. “See you later, then.”

“Later,” Seth echoed as he turned and strode toward the parking lot.

On the way home Seth’s thoughts lingered on Kylie Germaine. He didn’t like to be conceited, but it wasn’t often he was shot down so completely at a first meeting. Women generally liked him. Too bad she was already in a relationship, because he hadn’t felt that spark of attraction for anyone in a long time.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he headed for his condo, located just ten minutes from the hospital. He needed to forget about Kylie. There were always plenty of women to go out with. He’d never stayed with anyone for more than a few weeks anyway. There was a new nurse who’d started recently—what was her name? Cherry? Or Cheri? But even as he tried to picture the new nurse working up on the second floor he couldn’t seem to dredge up his usual enthusiasm.

For some peculiar reason his libido seemed stuck on a particular honey-blonde who clearly wasn’t interested.

Kylie woke up feeling a bit grumpy as she’d suffered a restless night’s sleep—which was all Seth’s fault, since his wicked smile had haunted her dreams.

Seth? Seth? What was wrong with her? What had happened to Dr. Taylor? She always addressed physicians by their formal title of Doctor—mostly because she felt that four years of premed, followed by four years of medical school, followed by even more years of residency and fellowship training meant they’d earned the title and deserved every bit of respect that went along with it.

So when had Dr. Taylor become Seth in her mind?

Muttering “Dr. Taylor” under her breath several times, in an effort to get his proper title embedded in her memory, she quickly showered and dressed.

Ben was eating a bowl of dry cereal when she dragged herself into the kitchen. “Don’t you want some milk with that?” she asked.

Ben gave a good-natured shrug. “Okay.”

She smiled and reached into the fridge. She was so lucky to have Ben. He was easygoing and happy to help himself to whatever food he wanted without being too picky about it.

“Am I going to day care today?” Ben wanted to know, once