Kitabı oku: «Playboy Doc's Mistletoe Kiss»

Playboy Doc’s Mistletoe Kiss
Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To my husband, who is willing to drop whatever he’s doing to sip hot cocoa and stare at the Christmas lights with me. I love you, honey!

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Tina Beckett

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

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

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

JESSICA ANN BLACK was used to chaos. As she arrived at her fifth case of the day—a home birth—that was exactly what she found. Chaos.

Daphne’s birthing coach—who was also her husband—was on the ground beside the bed, out of commission. The woman’s mum was doing her best to calm her daughter, but the shaky voice and panicked expression said she was in over her head.

Taking a deep breath, Jess waded into the fray, her training kicking in. A senior midwife at Cambridge Royal Hospital, she wasn’t called out to many home births, but she’d followed Daphne through two successful deliveries in as many years. When she’d begged Jess to see to this one as well, she hadn’t had the heart to refuse. All had gone well with the other two, so she’d expected the same with the third.

Except it wasn’t.

Daphne gripped the bed, panting in quick breaths. Hurrying over to her, Jess gave her mum’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and asked her to see to Daphne’s husband. Then she focused all her attention on her patient.

“I’m going to check you, love. Give me just a moment.” Snapping on her gloves to measure her patient’s dilation, she found instead the baby had crowned—head pressed tight against her fingertips.

Alarm bells flashed through her system, but she suppressed them. Jess had learned to school her features into bland indifference—no matter what she was faced with. So much so that the hospital often asked her to step in when there was a particularly tense or emotional situation. She somehow had the ability to defuse them.

Maybe because she had plenty of practice doing just that in her own family. Especially with her sister. Only it didn’t always work, as she’d learned the hard way.

“How long have you been like this?” Jess grabbed several towels from the stack of clean ones Daphne had readied at her bedside and laid them just below the woman’s bum.

“Hours.” The word was accompanied by another moan.

Since Jess had only gotten the call fifteen minutes ago, she knew that wasn’t true, but it probably did seem like hours to someone who was scared and alone. Well, she wasn’t alone, but she might as well be.

This baby was coming much faster than the others had. Jess had left the hospital as soon as Daphne’s husband rang her, but somewhere between then and now things had taken a turn, and Rick had fainted dead away. No wonder he’d panicked. Jess had always been here for this part of the delivery. He’d probably locked his knees and sent his blood pressure plummeting until he passed out.

She prayed the baby was still okay.

“You know how to do this by heart, Daphne. Your baby is almost here, so I need you to grab your legs and bear down on your bottom.”

More panting. “I don’t know if I can. Hurts so much more than the others.”

Jess didn’t stop to ask where the other two children were; hopefully they were with someone and not wandering around the house alone. She’d tackle that problem after she handled this one.

If she was good at one thing, it was taking things as they came at her—dealing with one task at a time in the order of urgency. And right now, they needed to get this baby out.

“You can do it, love, absolutely you can.” She helped Daphne get into position and told her to wait for the next contraction and then push. Jess’s phone was on the table next to her, the hospital’s number already on the screen ready to be dialed at the touch of a button.

“It’s here.” Daphne groaned … or maybe the sound came from her husband, Jess wasn’t sure, but her patient began bearing down as Jess counted in slow measured tones.

“Perfect. Take a breath and push again.”

The baby’s head slowly emerged, the characteristic shape from compression very much evident in this little one, which made her again wonder how long he or she had been stuck in the birth canal.

As soon as she delivered the baby’s head, she instructed her patient to stop, while she continued to support the neck and prepared for the hardest part of the delivery: the shoulders.

Daphne had buckled down to work, her earlier panic gone as she concentrated on the job at hand.

“Okay, let’s go at it again.”

The first shoulder appeared, and Jess maneuvered it, easing it out. Then came the second. A little rotation to the left. There! Both were out. “One more good push, Daphne, and we should have it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the woman’s mother guiding Daphne’s husband to a nearby chair. She called over, “Rick, put your head between your knees. Daphne is doing fine.”

Her patient pushed again and, as she’d suspected, the baby—a girl—slipped right out and into her waiting hands. The newborn cried without any stimulation, making Jess go slack with relief.

“You’ve got a baby girl. Congratulations.” Still holding the newborn, she used the tips of her fingers to pick another towel and draped it over Daphne’s chest. She then placed the baby on it. “Love on her for a minute, while I cut the cord.”

With no one to hand her any instruments, she reached into her bag and found clamps and scissors in sterile packages and ripped them open. She then clamped and cut the cord and delivered the afterbirth.

As soon as everyone was stable, and Rick was back on his feet and standing beside his wife looking rather sheepish, she pressed the dial button on her mobile. Daphne and the baby would need to be checked.

Expecting one of the nurses to answer, she tensed for a second when a low masculine drawl brushed across her ear. “Cambridge Royal Hospital, Dean Edwards here.”

Dean Edwards. Special Care Baby Unit doctor and one of the hospital’s most eligible bachelors. Definitely its most notorious from all of the whispered love-’em-and-leave-’em tales that floated through the hospital’s corridors.

Forcing her voice to remain absolutely level and calm even though her pulse had rocketed through the roof, she informed him of the situation and that she was arranging for transport to take the family to hospital. She asked that someone be there to meet them when they arrived.

“Will you be arriving with them?”

She hesitated, tempted for some strange reason to say yes. Shaking herself free of the urge, she said, “I have somewhere else to be, but I’ll make sure they get off without any problems.”

“I’ll be waiting.” The words sent a strange shiver through her. Almost as if he’d be waiting for her.

Ridiculous. Back to reality, Jess.

She still had her mum and dad’s anniversary party to get through as soon as she left here. The last thing she needed was to be mooning over Dean Edwards. Besides, she needed all her wits about her, because the party meant she would be facing her twin sister, who she’d only seen a handful of times since Abbie’s wedding day.

The day Abbie had married Jess’s fiancé.

“You’re still after him aren’t you? You’d love it if something happened and we broke up.”

Jess stood there in shock as her sister’s furious words poured over her.

After him? The familiar accusation ripped open old wounds and laid them bare.

Hadn’t it been the other way around six years ago? Martin had been Jess’s fiancé, until Abbie—just like with everything else—had decided she wanted what her sister had.

“Just stop it, Abbie. I’m not up to it tonight.” The pounding in her temples attested to that fact.

“Well, that’s too bad. Because I have a few things I want to get off my chest, and since we’re both here …”

Jess took a breath and reminded herself that they were at their parents’ thirtieth anniversary party and that her sister was seven months pregnant with her fourth child. Throwing another brick on the restraining wall that held back her own bitter feelings, she tried again.

“Let’s not fight, Abbie.” She made her voice as calm as possible, trying to ward off the inevitable. “This isn’t the time or place.”

“Who’s fighting? Certainly not me.”

“No? It sure sounds like it. Those text messages weren’t from me. Did you ever think about ringing the number, or asking Martin directly?”

Her sister had basically accused her of sexting her husband while he was away on business trips. It was ludicrous to have to defend herself against such a ridiculous accusation. Besides, she couldn’t imagine Martin being stupid enough to leave incriminating texts on his phone for Abbie to find. There had to be another explanation. Unfortunately, Martin was away on yet another trip.

“I’m asking you, instead.” Her sister’s thunderous expression made her take a step back.

“You can well and truly have him, Abbie. I don’t want him back.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she’d found someone else—that she was madly in love. But she didn’t. Because there was no one even on the horizon. Madly or otherwise.

She hadn’t gone out on a date in ages.

“Oh, really?” Her sister put a hand to her belly, disbelief written all over her face. “Well, you’d better make sure it stays that way.”

Jess’s teeth ground together, her anger rising. “That’s enough.”

“I still have a few things to make perfectly clear.”

This was why she avoided being in the same room as her twin, going so far as to move from London to Cambridge. Those five minutes in the birthing suite—when her sister had arrived first—had set a pattern that continued to this day. Abbie had to be first in everything. Or at least look like it. She’d excelled at everything she touched, outdoing Jess whenever she got the chance. Her sister had even followed her to uni and studied midwifery, going one step further and making it look as if she’d had the idea first.

Abbie had the home and the family her mum had always wanted both her girls to have. Another source of contention, since her parents felt Jess poured too much of herself into her career.

But she loved her job. She wasn’t substituting one thing for another. Nor was she worried about her biological clock running out.

She lowered her voice, aware that her mum was now looking at them from across the room with a frown. Time to put a stop to this. “This isn’t a competition. It never was.”

“You think I’m competing? With you?” Her sister took a step closer, crowding Jess against the buffet table, ignoring the guest who tiptoed around them, plate in hand. “Believe me, you’d know it if I were.”

The problem was, Jess did know it. It was the reason she’d had little to do with her sister since agreeing to be her maid of honor—the day Martin had stood at the front of the congregation and watched the bridesmaids glide down the aisle of the church. He’d spared her hardly a glance—eyes only for Abbie. That had been one of the worst nights of her life. Her sister had gloated openly, even as she’d claimed to be glad to leave behind her aspirations of becoming a midwife. Martin and Abbie’s first child was born seven months later. She’d been “blissfully happy” ever since.

“Listen, Abbie, if I were going to send sexy texts to someone, it certainly wouldn’t be to Martin.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

More anger flared inside of her. She couldn’t believe her sister was doing this at their parents’ party. They’d come all the way to Cambridge from their home in London just so Jess could attend—her crazy hours leaving her little time for holidays or anything else. Leave it to Abbie to try to ruin their efforts by thinking of no one but herself. Well, this time, Jess was going to call her on it.

The restraining wall she had so carefully erected burst at the seams, allowing words she’d vowed never to say to spew out in a rush.

“What I mean is Martin’s gone a little soft around the middle, hasn’t he? Besides, have you ever heard the expression once a cheater always a cheater?”

Her sister flushed bright red. “I can’t believe you just said that. Martin loved me. What were we supposed to do?”

Jess could think of a few things, but the pain behind her eyes was growing, warning her that things were about to get much worse. The last thing she wanted to do was burst into tears in front of her sister.

She slid to the side to get away from Abbie and from her own growing frustration. “Okay, I’m done. This is not the place to be sniping at each other.”

“Sniping? Why, you …” Abbie clutched her stomach with both hands.

Jess rolled her eyes. Whenever challenged by anyone—her parents, her friends, her sister—Abbie always felt dizzy, or sick … or too exhausted to “have this conversation”.

“Let’s just call a truce and go back to our own sides of the room, okay?”

“I think—” Her sister moaned. “I think something’s wrong with the baby.”

She suddenly realized all the color had leached from Abbie’s face. Her sister had also reached out to grip the table, knocking over a tiered set of plates that held expensive hors d’oeuvres.

Crash!

The china exploded on the ground spraying tiny crab cakes and stuffed mushrooms in every direction.

The whole room went silent, all eyes coming to rest on the twins. Jess’s anger transformed to horror.

Because Abbie wasn’t acting or trying to garner sympathy. Jess recognized the signs enough to know her sister was in labor.

And the baby was two months early.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE’D BEEN HERE for hours.

Dean Edwards had popped into Cambridge Royal’s Special Care Baby Unit five times since his shift started to check on his tiny charges, and each time he’d spied her standing in almost the exact same spot with her shoulder propped against the wall staring at the row of cots.

Dressed in a red party frock that hugged her slender frame, she’d obviously come from some kind of celebration. Only she wasn’t celebrating now.

In fact, she looked devastated, as if the baby she hovered over had passed away. But although tiny, the newborn was very much alive. And right now, those bloodshot eyes and tracks of mascara were doing a number on his gut, and he didn’t like it.

Not much got to him in his thirty-five years. Except a woman crying. It brought back memories of unhappy times and unhappy people.

He’d been willing to let her stand there as he worked, but the increasing tightness in his throat finally drove him to clear it and cross over to her.

“She’s going to be okay, you know.” He kept his voice low and soothing, partly to avoid startling the sleeping babies and partly to keep her from realizing how her obvious grief had affected him.

She didn’t even glance in his direction. “It’s my fault she’s here in the first place.”

That made him frown. “Sometimes these things just happen.”

“Do they?”

Light brown wounded eyes swung to meet his and the punch to his midsection was nothing like that earlier uneasiness.

“Yes.” He leaned his shoulder against the same wall so that their faces would be level with each other. Long and lean, she was still a head shorter than he was. “And you need to get some rest. You can’t do her any good, if you’re exhausted.”

Her eyes closed for a minute and her chest rose and fell before she looked at him again. “I’m not her mother.”

Those words made his frown deepen. Had he detected a wistful note in her voice? “I know who you are.”

“I’m Jessica …” She blinked, arms wrapping around her waist. “You do?”

Why so surprised? They’d spoken on the phone earlier today.

“Did you think you were invisible or something? If so, you should know—” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper “—your invisibility cloak might need recharging.”

That was the truth, because with her long blonde hair, soft caring eyes and a laugh that could melt the hardest of hearts, there was no way he could have missed noticing her from the moment she’d started working at the hospital. And because of that, he’d done his damnedest to avoid her. Until now. When he couldn’t.

A trace of a smile appeared on her face. “Really? Because most times, I pretty much feel … Scratch that.” She stood upright with a shrug. “Sometimes people confuse me with my sister. We do look quite alike.”

The sister?

He’d seen her. Had been there right after her baby was born. And while there were obvious similarities in coloring and bone structure, that ended when you looked beyond, to what was inside. Maybe her sister’s frown lines were due to worry about her child, but Dean didn’t think so. Because Jessica’s brows were smooth and clear. The only lines she had were little crinkles at the far corners of her eyes that spoke of smiles and laughter.

“Do you think so?” he asked. “Because I’m just not seeing it.”

Up went delicate brows. “We’re twins. Identical twins.”

He couldn’t stop himself from poking at what was evidently a sore spot. This woman revealed a lot about herself without saying much at all. “So you’re saying not even your mother could tell you apart?”

“Of course she could, it’s just that …” Another quick breath. “Some people can’t.”

Dean glanced at the babies across from him, a rare moment when they were still all snoozing away, the clicking of ventilators and beeping machinery the only sounds in the room besides the two of them. He’d like to keep it that way, if possible. These little ones needed rest. Lots of it. They weren’t the only ones. Jessica Black looked well and truly exhausted, so much so that he was surprised she was still standing. She needed to take a break.

Against his better judgement, Dean was going to suggest she do just that.

“Have you been home yet?”

She shook her head, still staring at the cots. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I know, but you look like you could use some downtime—I know I could. Do you want to go somewhere and grab a bite? My treat.”

Something about the way she’d blamed herself for her niece’s premature birth made him want to find out why she would think something like that. The time he’d seen her sister beside the baby’s incubator had given him pause. Jess had been there as well, but the sisters hadn’t spoken a word to each other. In fact, the chill in the room had been almost palpable.

Instead of nodding or politely turning him down, Jess blinked. “Excuse me?”

Not quite the reaction he’d expected. “I was asking if you wanted to get something to eat.”

“I heard what you said.”

Okay, so coming over here to comfort her was evidently the wrong choice. She didn’t seem to want it. Any of it.

Since he’d already asked, though, what choice did he have except to see this through to the bitter end?

“So, is that a yes? Or a no?”

“Oh, it’s definitely a no. Not interested.” She shook her head. “I may look like her, but I’m definitely not her. And your timing, by the way, is lousy.”

Timing?

Bloody hell. Did she think he was trying to hit on her because she looked like her sister? If so, this day was just getting better and better. He’d heard bits and pieces of enough conversations to know that he had a reputation. An undeserved one. He was squeaky clean as far as keeping his professional life separate from his private. Beyond that, though, all bets were off.

He forced himself to glance at his watch and give her an easy grin, even as his back molars ground against each other. “Really? Because where I come from, timing is everything. And this is the time I normally eat supper. Not go to bed.”

There were several seconds of absolute silence. When she looked at him again, her cheeks bloomed with red.

Maybe he should soften his words a little. “I promise this is about sitting down to a meal and giving yourself a much-needed break. Nothing else.”

“Oh, Lord.” She tipped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just … I thought …”

Yeah, sweetheart. I know exactly what you thought. And she was partially right. With a roomful of sick babies, and after a particularly exhausting shift, bed was exactly where his mind was heading.

As in falling into it. To sleep. By himself.

“Supper,” he confirmed. “I’ll stay on my side of the table the whole time.”

If anything, her color deepened. “It’s been a difficult day. It was my parents’ anniversary. And with Abbie going into labor in the middle of it, I’m not thinking straight.”

All my fault.

Wasn’t that what she’d said when he first came over to talk to her?

Suddenly he wanted to know why she blamed herself. “Which is why you need to get away for a bit. I know a great little place just around the corner that serves wonderful Indian cuisine. And it leans a bit to the fancy side, so you won’t be overdressed.” He allowed the side of his mouth to kick up again to reassure her.

She didn’t smile back. Instead, her glance went to her dress and then back toward the row of special-care cots. “Are you sure she’ll be okay?”

Instead of answering her, and since he couldn’t give her any long-term prognosis at the moment, Dean took his stethoscope from around his neck and dropped it into his pocket. After washing his hands, he went over to the baby’s incubator. He could feel Jess’s eyes on him the whole time as he slid his hands through the holes on the side of the bed and stroked a tiny hand, checking the readouts on the stand next to the cot.

“She’s stable.” For the moment, although he knew that could change at any time. “She’ll be watched carefully, but I can leave a call number for us at the desk if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Yes. It would. Thank you.”

Dean wasn’t sure why she wanted them to ring her rather than the baby’s own mother, but he knew better than to ask.

Snapping off his gloves and discarding them, he motioned toward the door. “I’ll just go hang up my coat and sign out. Do you want to meet me by the front door of the maternity unit?”

She nodded. “I’ll let my sister know where I’m going.” Without another word, she slid through the door of the SCBU and headed down the hallway, her red dress swishing around her hips in a way that made him rethink just how tired he was.

Too tired.

And she worked at the hospital.

A combination that had “do not touch” written all over it.

Dean had never been one to play by any set of rules except his own. But this was definitely one of them: don’t get involved with any one female … and especially not one he worked with on a regular basis. Even though Jess didn’t work on his floor and he didn’t see her every day, it still counted. Getting too involved could get tricky. And ugly.

If ever he needed to stick to the game plan, it was now. He’d been able to abide by his inner rules in the past. And he could damn well do it now.

Jess recognized the place. All those rumors about Dean were usually centered around this particular restaurant—as in he’d been spotted here. More than once, and always with a woman in tow.

She swallowed. With soft lighting and half walls that divided the space into smaller clusters of diners, she could see why. The restaurant fostered an atmosphere of quiet intimacy.

For what? Discreet affairs?

Jess wasn’t sure what madness had her sitting across from the playboy of Cambridge Royal, but something had obviously addled her brain. And from the way the hostess greeted him by name, eyes journeying over his tie and dress shirt—and the way he filled it out—as they came through the door, he’d been here many times before.

That brought up another question. The tie. Where had he come up with that? Did he keep one in his office just for spur-of-the-moment dinner dates? If so, it evidently got a lot of use. It would seem those rumors were true.

Which brought her back around to the insanity of being here. With him.

That argument with her sister and its aftermath had left her heartsick. Even her mum had shot her a couple of disappointed glances as they’d waited for the doctors to check Abbie over.

Had she done enough to avoid that confrontation? She’d tried to shut it down, but, in her desperation to get away, she’d been much harsher than necessary.

But the idea that she’d been engaging in some long-distance pillow talk with Martin while he was away on business trips was so ludicrous, she hadn’t been sure how to answer her. Abbie didn’t even have proof that Martin was engaging in anything of the sort. With anyone. Just some vague messages on his phone that could have meant anything.

Why hadn’t Jess just walked away the second she realized her sister’s temper was beginning to flare out of control? Instead, she’d stood there and defended herself in front of a roomful of guests. Moving the venue of the anniversary party to Cambridge had already made for a tense atmosphere, and by fighting with Abbie in the middle of their celebration she’d made things worse for everyone. Including that little one hooked up to machines in the Special Care Unit.

God. Her eyes closed as another shard of guilt stabbed through her stomach.

“Hey. You okay?”

Dean’s voice had a gruff soothing quality as it drifted over her. One she’d never noticed before this second.

She blinked back to awareness. Exactly what did that mean? She only crossed paths with the man in those odd moments when their jobs intersected, which wasn’t all that often. Her midwife duties kept her in one section of the hospital, while Dean’s kept him in another.

But you noticed him. You know you did. How could you not with all that gossip about his exploits?

Yes. She’d heard those stories. Time and time again. Only no one she knew had actually claimed to have made it into Dean Edwards’ bed. Or anywhere else, for that matter. But he’d been seen around Cambridge. And never with the same woman. The descriptions varied, but the pattern didn’t.