The Surgeon's Proposal
Sister Annabelle Drew had been shattered when one of her guests cried, "Stop the wedding" – just as she'd been about to say "I do."Surgeon Dylan Calford had no regrets – he was convinced that Annabelle's groom was completely wrong for her – until he discovered just how badly Annabelle needed her marriage of convenience. He proposed that he be her groom, instead. Annabelle didn't take gorgeous, athletic Dylan seriously, but that got them both thinking – was Dylan her Mr. Right…?
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âI wanted to ask you if thereâs any other way I can make up forââ
âThere isnât,â she snapped. âShort of offering to marry me yourself.â
Dylan laughed. It was a rich, confident sound. In any other circumstances she would have wanted to join in. âPerhaps thatâs exactly what I should do,â he said. âThe only thing that would really make the grade, right?â
âI wasnât serious.â
âI dare you, Annabelle.â There was a light of challenge and determination in his expression that made her uncomfortable. âI dare you to consider the proposition.Think about itâ¦.â
Even after writing over fifty books, this one was a âfirstâ for me. For the first time, the idea came to me in a dream. I popped awake, and there it all was, already sitting in my mindâthe harried and cynical surgeon hero arriving late at his colleagueâs wedding; the nervous yet lovely bride heroine, whom the hero has never truly noticed before, even though he works with her for hours every week; the sudden, crazy impulse that leads him to interrupt the ceremonyâ¦.
That, of course, was only the beginning. I happened to be making a train journey that day, and I spent most of it scribbling down my ideas about what was to happen next. Does Annabelle swoon into Dylanâs arms, realize that heâs the man she really loves and marry him at once, instead?
No! Of course not! Sheâs absolutely furious! Meanwhile, although questioning his own sanity in relation to the timing of his dramatic gesture, Dylan remains utterly convinced that heâs done the right thing.
Whoâs right? Youâll just have to read the book!
Lilian Darcy
CONTENTS
âARE you on your mobile, Dr Calford?â
âYes, but donât worry. Iâve only moved three car lengths in the last ten minutes, so Iâm not exactly a danger to other road users.â
âIâm sorry, Dr Calford, I didnât catch that.â
âNever mind, Lesley.â Dylan Calford raised his voice above the background noise of peak-hour traffic. âThereâs nothing that canât wait. Weâll pick it up next week, OK?â
âEnjoy the wedding,â the orthopaedic clinic secretary carolled cheerfully.
Dylan swallowed the dampening response that sprang to his lips, saying instead, âAnd you enjoy your weekend, Lesley.â He knew that, like most working women with a family, she deserved to.
He flipped his phone shut and concentrated on the traffic. Brisbane roads were like tangled spaghetti at the best of times, and five oâclock on a Friday afternoon was not one of those. Being January, it was a hot Friday afternoon, too. With the sun pouring through Dylanâs front windscreen, the carâs air-conditioning couldnât keep up, and he felt sticky all over.
He was already late. Didnât know why he was going to this wedding in the first place. He was cynical about weddings at the moment. He didnât altogether want to feel this way, but after the debacle heâd endured with Sarahâ¦There really was something too incongruous about proceeding directly from a meeting with his divorce lawyer to a ceremony designed to shackle two more innocent people together in the dubious bonds of wedlock.
âLike lambs to the slaughter,â he muttered. A crucial three metres of space opened up ahead and he was able to crawl forward far enough to turn left into a quiet side street which should cut through in the direction of St Lucia.
Not that Dr Alexander Sturgess remotely resembled a lamb, of course.
Traffic lights ahead. Red, naturally. Dylan had chronic bad luck with traffic. As a result, heâd learned to be alert and super-competent in the way he navigated the sprawling city. That was a plus. All the same, he would have preferred to have been one of those fortunate souls for whom green lights, empty lanes and parking spaces appeared in his path like magic.
The sun was spearing into his eyes, half blinding him and making him sleepy. He and Alex had both been in emergency surgery half the night, putting a nineteen-year-old motorbike rider back together after a horrific crash. Head injury, complicated fractures, internal injuries. It was one of those times when you didnât know whether to even hope that he would live. The metal plates and pins now keeping the young manâs bones in place were the least of his problems.
As befitted a senior orthopaedic specialist and a man about to get married, Alex had then taken the rest of the day off. Dylan, in contrast, had tackled his seniorâs scheduled surgical list, done a three-hour fracture clinic, which had run late, made hospital rounds and met his lawyer. The man was probably on the phone with Sarahâs lawyer right now, presenting the details of the proposed settlement he and Dylan had worked out together.
Would it pass muster? Dylan suspected not. Sarah apparently valued the support sheâd given him during his past two years of specialist orthopaedic training more highly than he did.
