CHAPTER TEN
NYC Angels: An Explosive Reunion
St Piran’s: The Wedding of The Year
NYC Angels: Making the Surgeon Smile
Lynne Marshall
Along came Polly…
Surgeon Johnny Griffin’s world stopped when he lost his wife and unborn child. Now only his little patients can brighten Johnny’s day. Until the moment bubbly new nurse Polly Seymour whirls into his ward and turns his life upside down!
She’s the ray of sunshine this brooding doc needs—the only woman who can make him feel alive again. It could be the second chance Johnny’s dreamed of…if he doesn’t let her slip through his fingers.…
Many thanks to Mills & Boon for the opportunity to participate in this wonderful Medical continuity. Special thanks to Flo Nicoll for creating Polly and John, two characters I grew to think of as friends by the end of this book.
MONDAY MORNING POLLY SEYMOUR dashed into the sparkling marble-tiled lobby of New York’s finest pediatric hospital, Angel’s. The subway from the lower East Side to Central Park had taken longer today, and the last thing she wanted to do was be late on her first day as a staff RN on the orthopedic ward.
Opting to take the six flights of stairs instead of fight for a spot in one of the overcrowded elevators, she took two steps at a time until she reached her floor. As she climbed, she thought through everything she’d learned the prior week during general hospital orientation. Main factoid: Angel Mendez Children’s Hospital never turned a child away.
That was a philosophy she could believe in.
Heck, they’d even accepted her, the girl whose aunts and uncles used to refer to as “Poor Polly”. It used to make her feel like that homely vintage doll, Pitiful Pearl. But Angel’s had welcomed her to their nursing staff with open arms.
Blasting through the door, completely out of breath, she barreled onwards, practically running down a man in a white doctor’s coat. Built like a football player, the rugged man with close-cropped more-silver-than-brown hair hardly flinched. He caught her by the shoulders and helped her regain her balance.
“Careful, dumpling,” he said, sounding like a Clint-Eastwood-style grizzled cowboy.
Mortified, her eyes shot wide open. Sucking in air, she could hardly speak. “Sorry, Dr....” Her gaze shifted from his stern brown eyes to his name badge. “Dr. John Griffin.” Oh, man, did that badge also say Orthopedic Department Director? He was her boss.
She knew the routine—first impressions were lasting impressions, and this one would be a doozy. Without giving him another chance to call her “dumpling”—did he think she was thirteen?—she pointed toward the hospital ward and took off, leaving one last “Sorry” floating in her wake.
At the nurses’ station, she unwrapped her tightly wound sweater, removed her shoulder bag and plopped them both on the counter. “I’m Polly Seymour. This is my first day. Is Brooke Hawkins here?”
The nonchalant ward clerk with an abundance of tiny braids all pulled back into a ponytail lifted his huge chocolate-colored eyes, gave a forced smile and pointed across the ward. “The tall redhead,” he said, barely breaking stride from the lab orders he was entering in the computer.
Gathering
