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ONE SPECIAL NIGHT….

Margaret McDonagh

Strathlochan Hospital – Book 4

A brief encounter…

Dr. Cameron Kincaid is captivated by the beautiful woman he meets on a train - and this chance encounter leads to one tender, passionate night.

The day after the night before, Dr. Ginger O’Neill cannot believe she let her emotions rule her head. She has discovered that the reason for their journey will tear them apart. Ginger desperately needs funding to continue helping her patients - the very same funding that Cameron wants for his…

At odds professionally, in lust personally, can these two dedicated doctors find a way to follow their hearts?
 

Strathlochan Hospital

Sexy Scottish doctors, dedicated to working in a remote and rugged landscape

To the usual suspects, for all their friendship and support

To Liz Fielding, Kate Hardy, Anne McAllister

and Kate Walker, for their kindness and generosity,

and for providing such marvellous inspiration

And to all at the Pink Heart Society—

Trish, Nic, Ally and Natasha,

for getting it up and running—

and all the writers

and readers supporting the wonderful world of romance fiction

www.pinkheartsociety.blogspot.com

Dr Ginger O'Neill
noticed the man the moment he stepped onto the train. It was hard to miss him. Six feet tall and athletically built, he commanded attention. Especially female attention. His short dark hair was shot through with a few threads of steel grey at the temples, giving him a distinguished, compelling appeal, and she judged him to be in his mid-thirties, a few years older than herself. Dressed in worn, snug-fitting jeans and a black T-shirt, whose cut-off sleeves displayed tanned, leanly muscled arms, he looked cool despite the August heat wave.

Given the way her heart had begun thudding erratically under her ribs at one sight of his roguish good looks, he ought to carry a government health warning. Which was ridiculous because she was always cool, rational and practical, and never swayed by a pretty face. Not that he was
pretty.
More...divinely, scrumptiously gorgeous. But the principle should apply.

Ginger cursed herself, unable to stop watching the man as he walked down the carriage towards her. His features were the kind a sculptor dreamed of modelling—a determined jaw, currently shadowed with a day's growth of stubble, a straight nose, lean cheeks and the sexiest, most irresistibly sinful mouth she had ever seen, his full lower lip swelling under a finely shaped top one. Her gaze roved upwards, encountering speculative grey eyes fringed with long, thick lashes.

Discomfited, Ginger managed to drag her disobedient gaze away and busied herself settling into her place behind a table, arranging her notes and laptop. Her pulse raced, her awareness increasing, as the man selected the table across the aisle from her. As he reached up to stow a bag in the overhead locker, his T-shirt rode up to expose a strip of tanned, muscled back above the low-slung waistband of jeans that lovingly moulded his impressive rear end. Strangely breathless, she could almost feel her tongue hanging out as she stared at him. Horrified at her reaction, she turned away, conscious of him sliding gracefully along the seat and sorting out his own papers. With a half empty carriage, why did he have to sit right there so every time she raised her head she couldn't help but see him?

As the train pulled out of Strathlochan station, beginning the long journey from Scotland to London, Ginger endeavoured to read through the presentation she was to give at her meeting the next afternoon. It would be the most important hour of her life. She had to make the best effort possible if she was to secure the money she needed to develop her own eating disorders clinic, one which would provide desperately needed residential places as well as a day centre and outpatient facilities.

Nervous at the daunting prospect ahead of her,, she recalled the discussion she had shared with Pip Beaumont, friend, right-hand woman and the best mental health nurse she had ever known...

'Ginger! I thought you were supposed to have left a couple of hours ago,' Pip had exclaimed, waylaying her as she'd hurried towards the main doors of the hospital.

'You and me both. I was held up with morning appointments—one of which was with Danielle Watson. She's lost another couple of kilos and I'm troubled about her emotional state. She's being bullied at school again. If you have time while I'm away, would you review, her latest diary pages and see if you have some ideas? I left them in her file.'

A worried frown had creased Pip's brow. 'Yes, of course I will.'

'Are you due to see her?'

'Not before your appointment with her next week.' Pip had paused a moment. 'But I'll fit her in for a chat in the next couple of days. Somehow.'

'Thanks. I know how crammed the schedule is, but I think that would be a good idea.'

'You're worried she's bordering on depression again?'

Ginger grimaced, concerned for the teenager who, having lost her parents three years ago, had little support at home, living as she did with a cousin who seemed uninterested in the girl's care. 'There's a risk of it. And if she keeps losing weight, she's going to endanger herself. I really want to turn things round and avoid having to admit her if at all possible.'

'I'll take care of it. What else is worrying you?' her friend asked with customary insight, and Ginger sighed, pausing outside the door.

'I was heading out of the office when I received an untimely summons to see the powers that be.' She juggled her overnight bag, laptop and sundry items as she tried to glance at her watch, thankful that her personal assistant, Sarah, had checked train times and rebooked her ticket. 'I'm leaving for the station now.'

'I'll give you a lift.'

A relieved smile curved Ginger's mouth. 'Are you sure? That would be great.'

'It will save you time if you don't have to worry about your car.'

'Thanks, Pip.'

'So, what was the summons about?' Pip asked once they were crammed into her tiny, purple Fiat and heading out of Strathlochan hospital's car park.

As they travelled down the hill, the town spread across the wooded valley and around the edge of a small loch, Ginger's mood darkened. With a sigh, she recalled her earlier audience with her department head and one member of the hospital management board. Usually slow to anger, the one thing guaranteed to stir her temper was anything that adversely affected her patients, and what she had heard a short while ago had been the worst possible news.

'You don't want to know.'

'That bad?' Worry was evident in Pip's usually cheerful voice. 'Tell me, lovey.'

'Not only have my pleas for increased funding been turned down but department changes and cost-cutting mean the unit will be disbanded next spring and reabsorbed into the general psychological services.'

'Oh, no! That's even worse than we anticipated. Ginger, they can't!'

Upset, she ran the fingers of one hand through her flyaway hair. 'Unfortunately they can...and they will.' Damn them, she cursed silently, tension tightening her every nerve and sinew.

'Then tomorrow's appointment is even more imperative.'

Pip's quiet words echoed Ginger's own sentiments. 'Exactly.'

'What time is the meeting?'

'Not until two. I'm only leaving now because I want to be fresh for the presentation, and they paid for my travel and accommodation.' Ginger sucked in a breath as she considered the enormity of the next twenty-four hours. 'Oh, Pip, I just hope I can pull this off. I
have
to.'

Her friend reached out and patted her arm. 'If anyone can, it's you.'

'Thanks.' Ginger managed a smile, warmed by the loyalty and reassurance.

Pip halted at a road junction, her mousy curls swinging across her shoulders as she shook her head. 'I can't believe we're going to be closed down. Whatever do management think our patients are going to do without the unit? They need specialist care. With the best will in the world, an overstretched general department can't give that. The lucky ones have parents who can afford private treatment, but that doesn't help the majority, does it?'

'No, it doesn't. Not to mention how far they'll have to travel to find another dedicated eating disorders centre. Goodness knows, there are few enough of them in the UK.' Ginger clenched her hands together, weighed down by her sense of responsibility and concern for the young people in her care. 'I have to get my own clinic open, Pip. Somehow we have to find the money.'

In the months since the rumour of possible department changes and cost-cutting had first shocked her team, and sparked the idea to branch out on her own, she had worked hard on a business plan. Discussions with the health trust had elicited a provisional agreement that, if the hospital unit downgraded and Ginger's project took off, they would outsource services to her for those NHS patients who needed specialist referral. She had a core number of staff keen to join her, support from regional GPs, and she even had the promise of money from a few sources... grateful parents, charitable organisations, a bank loan and, tentatively, the NHS referral funding. Which still left an enormous hole in a financial budget that was frighteningly high. The start-up expenses alone were horrendous, without the annual running costs. But she would find a way. She had to. She couldn't,
wouldn't,
let her patients down.

'An unexpected benefactor seems too good to be true.' Pip's comment drew her from her thoughts. 'Who is Sir Morrison Ackerman, do you know?'

Ginger shook her head. 'He was described to me as Britain's cross between Paul Getty, Bill Gates and Donald Trump!'

'If he's as rich and generous, we'll all be happy.' Hazel eyes twinkled as Pip glanced at her with a smile. 'Why is he doing this?'

'All I know is that he was born locally, but now lives in America where he made his substantial fortune. He's given a lot of money to global aid charities and now he wants to put something back into his old community.' Ginger paused as she recalled the brief details she had been given. 'Apparently he has a special interest in the work we do, something about a problem in the family years ago. That's why we are on a shortlist of three for this donation and sponsorship.'

'Are you actually going to meet him?'

'I imagine so. With his lawyers and business advisors. I was told he was stopping over in London for a day
en route
from America to his holiday villa in Italy. The three of us called to represent our various projects each have one hour to make our presentation and explain why we deserve to get his money.'

Pip gave a little shiver as she pulled the car in outside the station. 'Scary.'

'You can say that again!' Ginger felt a renewed attack of nerves. 'It would make all the difference to getting the clinic
off
the ground. And I'm determined to win. Even if I really can't afford to lose the two days this trip is taking me away from my patients.'

'We'll cope. And it will be worth it in the long run if the funding is forthcoming. Besides, you work far too hard, Ginger, so try and enjoy it as a break. Have a bit of an adventure,' Pip advised with a smile.

Ginger's answering smile was wry. 'I don't think there will be much time for fun on this trip.'

'Who are the other two in the running for the money?'

'I don't know.' Ginger struggled to get herself and her things out of Pip's too-small car. 'They're keeping everything very hush-hush at the moment. I'm not supposed to talk to anyone else about it.'

Pip's eyebrows rose, and she tapped her nose with one finger, her expression conspiratorial. 'Mum's the word!'

'Thanks—and for the lift.'

'No problem, lovey.' The older. woman squeezed her hand through the open window. 'Good luck. You knock them dead!'

'I'll do my best!'

Filled with a mix of doubt and determination, Ginger had left Pip and hurried to catch her train. Now, as it sped her towards the capital, she ignored the impossibly attractive man sitting across the aisle and gave herself a silent talking to. She had no time for diversions, however appealing. The chance to acquire the Ackerman funding was too important. Winning it would be the answer to her prayers, enabling her to help more patients in need. No way was she going to blow it.