Second Chance with the Playboy Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Charlotte McFall

  Second Chance with the Playboy

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  A word from the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  “What the hell do you mean

  you’re shutting the children’s ward down? No, this is some sort of joke, it has to be!” Annabel leaned forward, almost tipping over on her swivel chair. “You can’t send sick children on a ninety-mile trip for treatment!”

  “I assure you, it is no joke. The hospital simply doesn’t have the money to keep it open. We have to cut costs.”

  Mr. Wild’s slimy voice grated on Annabel’s nerves. “Is that what it is, Mr. Wild, a bloody cost-cutting exercise?” she spat, banging her hand down on her desk. “No, it is a cost-cutting exercise that is tantamount to a death sentence for some of the children.” Where did they get their ideas? “Look, Mr. Wild, you’ve told me. Now get the hell out of my office. Be warned, this ward will not be closing.”

  “I think, perhaps, you need to look for another position, don’t you?” His parting comment was clearly an undisguised threat.

  Praise for Charlotte McFall

  Ms. McFall was runner up in Carina UK’s Christmas in July Competition 2015.

  Second Chance with the Playboy

  by

  Charlotte McFall

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Second Chance with the Playboy

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Charlotte McFall

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Kristian Norris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Champagne Rose Edition, 2017

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1393-1

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1394-8

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To the heroes and heroines

  of the real Brighton to Lands End motorbike run.

  Chapter One

  “What the hell do you mean you’re shutting the children’s ward down? No, this is some sort of joke, it has to be!” Annabel leaned forward, almost tipping over on her swivel chair. “You can’t send sick children on a ninety-mile trip for treatment!”

  “I assure you, it is no joke. The hospital simply doesn’t have the money to keep it open. We have to cut costs.”

  Mr. Wild’s slimy voice grated on Annabel’s nerves. “Is that what it is, Mr. Wild, a bloody cost-cutting exercise?” she spat, banging her hand down on her desk. “No, it is a cost-cutting exercise that is tantamount to a death sentence for some of the children.” Where did they get their ideas? “Look, Mr. Wild, you’ve told me. Now get the hell out of my office. Be warned, this ward will not be closing.”

  “I think, perhaps, you need to look for another position, don’t you?” His parting comment was clearly an undisguised threat. As he walked out of the door, Mr. Wild glared at her with his beady little eyes, reminding her of a sneaky, twitchy rat. The door slammed shut.

  Leaning back on her chair, Annabel tried to think of something. There had to be another way. She pulled her long black hair into a tight ponytail. There just had to be something she could do to raise the cash to keep the ward open. It had already been an extremely difficult shift on the children’s ward. Losing a patient was never easy, especially when it was a child.

  A tear fell onto Annabel’s desk as she thought about the child they just lost. Jasmine had lived on the ward for nearly two years as she bravely fought cancer, going home only at Christmas time and her tenth birthday. Each time, she returned a few days later. Even through all her suffering, Jasmine always had a bright smile for everyone, nurses and children alike. She would sit on another child’s bed and read the little ones stories or just talk to the older ones. Annabel had lost count of how many times Jasmine’s leukemia had gone into remission only to return a few months later. Today, her precious little patient would sleep forever, but just like the flower, her spirit would live on in them all.

  Annabel tried to tell herself Jasmine wouldn’t be in pain anymore, but that simple thought didn’t take away the intense pain. She, like many of the other doctors and nurses, became emotionally attached to all their young patients. Oh, she knew she should keep her distance, but they were all so young and helpless. These children were the future. It was her job to make them better, to give them all a chance at life. She had failed Jasmine, and for that, Annabel would never forgive herself.

  The ward closures were all because of hospital privatization. She knew that; Marcus would have said it was progress. But surely progress for progress’s sake was a bad thing when it would come at such a huge cost? The thought of Marcus made her stomach lurch. She had tried to put any thoughts of him to the back of her mind. She winced as the memories came flooding back. For an entire summer, Annabel had followed Marcus around hoping that he would just notice her.

  There wasn’t a day that went by when she didn’t cringe at the memories of her embarrassing behavior toward Marcus. Just because he had gorgeous blue-gray eyes and a body to die for didn’t mean she had to act like an idiot. It was a painful memory and one she wanted to put back in its little box.

  That was years ago. Now she was a qualified doctor, and how the years had changed her from the girl she used to be. So young and carefree, up for a laugh with the best of them, but now Annabel knew there wasn’t time for men in her life. There was no way she was going to repeat the behavior of the past, and she was having an all-out job of keeping the children’s ward open. Mr. Wild had tried several times to shut it down, but the nurses and doctors had beaten him. This looked like the ward’s last swan song.

  Grabbing the phone again, she made a quick call. “Can I speak to Thomas Underwood, please…?” Annabel waited. “Yes, please tell him it’s Doctor Simpson from Oakwood Hospital.” If there was one thing Annabel hated, it was jobsworth secretaries. She waited for the “He’s not in the office right now,” even though they would be sitting behind their desks playing with their stress-reliever snooker tables. She hid her surprise when she actually had Mr. Underwood get on the line.

  “Mr. Underwood, I have just had Mr. Wild in my office saying the children’s ward is shutting as there is no money left,” Annabel stated.

  After ten minutes, she put the phone down. She now had a slightly better understanding of the situation, but proving that any theft had been going on was going to be very difficult. She did some paperwork, but then an idea came at her totally out of the blue. One which might just save the ward.

  “Rach, can you come to my office quick, please?” A small smile crept onto her face when she put the phone down thi
s time. It was amazing that one small thought could spark off a brilliant idea—or at least it would be, if she could pull it off.

  The door to her office flung open, and a disheveled-looking doctor stood in the doorway. “Hey, boss, what’s up?”

  “That was quick, Rach. Been in the store cupboard again?” Annabel laughingly asked her friend. The look on Rachel’s face was priceless. “You’re meant to be helping the kids, not administering to Doctor Walker.” She would have to speak to Rach about it at some point; they couldn’t carry on their relationship at work. They had jobs to do, and fraternizing with a doctor from Accident and Emergency wasn’t part of the job description.

  “Do you still have links to all those biker groups?”

  “Yes, my brother still rides with a group. What do you need?”

  Annabel breathed heavily. “The administrator is shutting down the children’s ward. Apparently, there’s no money to keep it open.”

  “No, they can’t! They need to stay here.” Rachel stammered as her face turned a beet-red color. “But…but…”

  Annabel held her hand up to stop Rachel from saying anything. She felt the same as her friend, but she needed to stay calm, or else she wouldn’t be able to think.

  “What do you think of a charity bike ride? Each doctor in this hospital as a passenger on a bike.” Annabel twirled her auburn hair around in her fingers. “We could try and get local businesses to sponsor us. I was thinking a ride from Brighton to Lands End. I will put the children’s plight out on Big City Radio.”

  Rachel gave her a mock salute. “I’m on it, boss. Give me ten minutes. All the bikers in Sussex won’t say no.”

  That was one thing about bikers not many people knew; they might ride huge pieces of metal, be into heavy music, and have long hair, but none of them could resist helping animals and children. Annabel hated motorbikes, always had since her friend had nearly died coming off one on a quiet country road. How he had been found so late at night had been a miracle, and it was that one incident which had spurred her on to be a doctor. When Rachel left her, Annabel phoned the radio station to get them to do a piece on it. The more people she could get involved the better.

  The hospital loudspeaker rang out. “Code Blue. Floor 3, room 6.”

  Annabel jumped from her chair, sending it flying toward the wall. The office door didn’t fare much better; grabbing the handle, she opened it with the force of Zeus. Adrenaline rushed through her body as she ran down the corridor to the room. Tracy was in trouble; she had had major heart surgery. I’m not going to lose another child.

  When Annabel arrived, there were already nurses and two other doctors trying to resuscitate the young child. “Get me the defibrillator,” Annabel ordered. The heart monitor remained flat lining.

  “Chest compressions, come on! Do I really need to do your jobs for you?” Annabel’s anger rose with each second that went by. Was that a blip? The flat line drew across the screen.

  “Sorry, Doctor.” The mumbled apology went largely unheard as they continued to work.

  “Fifty joules. Come on, Tracy, fight! Seventy joules.” Annabel shocked the little girl again. “I’m not losing two kids in one day.” All of a sudden, the heart monitor raced back into life. “We got her.” Annabel sighed heavily. That was close. Any more shocks with the defibrillator and she would have had to call it.

  “Nice job, everyone.” Annabel prided herself on being strict on the ward but fair. Her staff knew that outside of the hospital, she would laugh and joke around with the rest of them. “Take five minutes, everyone; go grab yourself a drink. I will stay with Tracy.”

  “I will stay with her,” one of the nurses piped up.

  Annabel extended her thanks and walked slowly to the door. As everyone exited the room, Annabel turned and gave a last glance at the monitor. Tracy’s heartbeat was as strong as it had been before. She would be okay, or at least she hoped she would be. Well, I’m on call tonight in case anything happens.

  Two hours later, Annabel signed the last piece of paperwork. Grabbing her bag, she locked the office on her way out the door. She walked slowly down to the garage. Hearing heavy footsteps behind her, Annabel turned around. It was the hospital’s administrator, Mr. Wild. “I know what you are doing, Dr. Simpson. The board and I won’t stand for this nonsense.”

  “And what exactly am I doing?”

  “Just remember who pays your wages.”

  “Is that a threat, Mr. Wild?” Annabel was incensed. What did he think he was doing?

  “I don’t threaten.” With that, he walked away and climbed into his brand-new luxury car.

  She could only dream about owning a car like that. She had once gone to a car showroom to have a look at a new car. A sleek black one with a bright red leather interior. Annabel had loved the scent of the brand-new leather; new cars seemed to have a special smell all of their own. All the buttons you needed on the steering wheel so there was no messing about, a built-in sat nav on the dash. It had everything she would ever need, but even with financing, she couldn’t afford the payments. She knew that she would never spend that much money on something like that. She had so many other things to worry about like toys for her kids on the ward. Or just keeping up with the bills at home. Some people got all the luck, but others had to work hard for what they had.

  So that’s where all the money has gone, shiny new cars for the board members. Okay, so she couldn’t prove it, but something wasn’t right somewhere, and after the head of the board telling her earlier that there was no money to keep the ward open, Annabel was determined to find out.

  She climbed into her old beat-up baby. There was no way she would ever replace her car. The petrol consumption on it was great, and they had been through so much together. Annabel suddenly laughed out loud; she was being sentimental about a car. Flicking the stereo on, she tuned into the Big City Radio channel.

  “Listen up, folks. We have a major dilemma over at Oakwood Hospital. There are plans afoot to shut the children’s ward. There is to be a fundraising charity bike ride. Get in touch by phone to us here at Big City Radio or email Dr. Simpson at Oakwood Hospital dot com for more details.”

  Annabel listened as the DJ changed the subject and began rambling on about the traffic jams. No, she didn’t have to call the radio straight away, but she couldn’t risk the ward closing without fighting with everything she had.

  ****

  Marcus Chapman sat in his corner office finishing off paperwork. The mountain never seemed to get smaller. He’d been at it for hours, and he still had a huge pile to get through. At least his client had just made a considerable amount of money thanks to him and his investment advice. “Nothing like blowing your own trumpet is there,” Marcus mumbled to himself. The radio DJ prattled on about all the local news when he suddenly looked up and stared. “Oakwood Hospital children’s ward closure. Bikers needed.”

  He flinched when he heard the hospital’s name, immediately grabbing the picture on his desk. A young girl lay sprawled out on a bouncy castle, her blonde hair surrounding her like a halo. His beautiful, sleeping princess. He felt a stab in his heart. Marcus was grateful to the hospital for all they had tried to do to help save his daughter after her short illness. He hardly went home these days; instead, he reveled in the anonymity and impersonal service of hotels. Marcus was tired of all the sympathetic looks and comments from his friends and family and couldn’t bear to be in the house he’d shared with his daughter. Too many memories.

  His life had been so empty since Emily had gone. The light inside him had been extinguished. She had made him sensible, and now, he had gone partially back to his old womanizing ways.

  There were only so many times you could hear the words, “Sorry for your loss.” Yes, they were words of comfort, but they were often hollow. Well, if they knew what was good for them, they would leave him well alone.

  “A bike ride? Doctors and bikers together as one,” repeated the DJ. That was something else he hadn’t done for so lo
ng—donned his biker leathers. He missed the open road, the rush of adrenaline that riding his bike gave him. He could suggest that his company be the main sponsor, anonymously of course.

  He liked the idea more and more; he could maybe join in. Marcus sighed heavily; no, he wasn’t ready to face the world, not yet. That isn’t strictly true is it, Marcus? You pick women up in the hotel bar just for a bit of fun. So you have been out in the world. He had made a lot of mistakes, but his beautiful little Emily had definitely been the best thing to happen to him. He had done well for himself. Marcus couldn’t deny that he had led the playboy lifestyle and would have still. Having Emily had grounded him for the few short years she had been his.

  Josie hadn’t stayed around. She’d simply dumped Emily on him and disappeared. That was fine by him—they hadn’t needed her. Marcus knew he should have been more careful, but never had he thought that his daughter was a mistake. For her memory, he couldn’t let the hospital ward shut.

  Marcus stood up and paced around the room. Could he do it? Could he get on the back of a bike again? He wasn’t really ready for the outside world just yet, but he also knew he couldn’t sit around and do nothing. Marcus poured himself a whiskey from the bar in his office. Swishing the brown liquid around in the glass, he raised the glass to his lips but paused. Would his leathers still fit after several years languishing in the back of his wardrobe?

  Marcus put the glass down, picked up the phone, and called the radio station instead, pledging two million pounds for the fund. Perhaps other people would do the same. That amount of money from an individual should push other companies to do their part. Out of gratitude or guilt, he didn’t care. The only thing he did care about was that the hospital shouldn’t shut that ward.

  “Annabel trained as a doctor. I wonder if she ever made the grade?” he said aloud.

  “Did you want me, sir?” His ever-efficient secretary, Mrs. Windbourne, popped her head around the door.

  “No, I was just talking to myself.” She had already put her coat on, ready to leave. “You take yourself off home, Mary. I will be fine on my own.”