The Doctors' Baby Miracle

Losing a baby tore them apart...

Can having another reunite them?

Losing their daughter left doctors Tucker and Kady heartbroken and when he couldn’t face trying for another child, it left their marriage in pieces. When they meet again at a medical event, their memories are reawakened—along with their scorching chemistry! But Kady still longs for a baby, and Tucker must finally face his fears if he’s to find happiness with her again...

Three-times Golden Heart® finalist TINA BECKETT learned to pack her suitcases almost before she learned to read. Born to a military family, she has lived in the United States, Puerto Rico, Portugal and Brazil. In addition to travelling Tina loves to cuddle with her pug, Alex, spend time with her family, and hit the trails on her horse. Learn more about Tina from her website, or ‘friend’ her on Facebook.

Also by Tina Beckett

Winning Back His Doctor BrideA Daddy for Her DaughterThe Nurse’s Christmas GiftRafael’s One-Night Bombshell

Hot Brazilian Docs! miniseries

To Play with FireThe Dangers of Dating Dr CarvalhoThe Doctor’s Forbidden TemptationFrom Passion to Pregnancy

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

The Doctors’ Baby Miracle

Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07493-3

THE DOCTORS’ BABY MIRACLE

© 2018 Tina Beckett

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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To my kids.

You make me laugh and support me no matter what.

I love you!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

PROLOGUE

Two years ago

TUCKER STEVENSON WALKED out of the clinic a new man.

Only he didn’t feel new. He felt old and cynical and very, very tired. But at least he’d severed himself from his past, in more ways than one. What was that old Grimm’s fairy tale he’d read as a child? Seven at One Blow? Well, he hadn’t struck down seven, but two was enough: a vasectomy and a divorce. It did seem kind of ironic that his test for “swimmers” should be scheduled for the very same day his divorce became final.

He’d never in his worst nightmares suspected he and Kady would end this way. Theirs had been the stuff dreams were made of. Or so he’d thought. Yet here he was, making sure what had happened to them would never happen again.

He glanced back at the clinic before pulling his sunglasses off his head and dropping them onto his nose, dimming the view around him as he made his way to the subway station.

It was done. There was no going back.

His doctor, while arguing against the procedure, saying Tucker was too young to make that kind of decision, had finally acquiesced and given him the old snip-snip eight weeks ago. He would not make another woman pregnant, or cause her to go through the horrors and heartache he and Kady had lived through. She’d tried to talk him out of it, saying they were through if he went through with it. But it hadn’t changed his mind.

It hadn’t changed hers either. Four years of marriage gone, in the blink of an eye.

He bumped shoulders with someone with a muttered apology as he stepped into the crowded station. On his way back to the hospital, a twelve-hour shift stared him in the face. But at least work kept him from thinking. And the change in venue from Atlanta to New York had meant a fresh start, even if it hadn’t dulled the heartache of the past. Bracing his feet apart and wrapping his fingers around the grab bar over his head, he closed his eyes and let the steady whooshing of the metro keep the painful memories at bay.

If only they’d known when they’d met, things might have been different.

No, they wouldn’t. Because while the pregnancy—a year into their relationship—had come as a shock, the tearful yearning in Kady’s eyes as she’d shown him the pregnancy test had won Tucker over. She’d desperately wanted that child. Had wanted him to be happy about it. And in the end he had been. A hurried elopement and whirlwind honeymoon had been just like the rest of their relationship, full of explosive passion that left him breathless. It had been that way the moment they’d laid eyes on each other. The rest was history.

“No regrets,” she’d said, lifting her glass of sparkling cider and clinking it against his with a laugh. And when Grace had been born... Magic. Pure magic. The perfect world they’d created had seemed complete. Their love unbreakable.

And yet look at them now.

He opened his eyes and hardened his heart. This solved nothing and only put him in a bad place. His patients needed him. And he needed them.

So that’s what he would focus on, and leave all the other stuff behind.

At least until he hit his bed tonight and fell into an exhausted sleep.

The subway lurched to a stop, the doors peeled apart, and Tucker joined the throng of people vying for the exit. Seconds later he was headed up the escalator where a shaft of sunlight beckoned, promising a brighter day.

And, with a little luck, a less painful future.

CHAPTER ONE

Present day

KADY MCPHERSON STUFFED the letter from the IVF clinic into her purse as she stepped out of the taxi onto the sidewalk of the conference center. She paused and took a deep decisive breath. As much as she hated being late, nothing could blot her happiness. She was finally going to take charge of her life after all this time.

One glance at her watch had her racing up the concrete steps. She was supposed to have been here five minutes ago. But who knew that getting a cab would be so hard? At least she wasn’t the first speaker. But she still had to somehow slide onto that stage without disrupting the symposium.

She showed her badge to the official manning the registration desk. He pointed her toward the second door on the left, where a large cardboard placard was set on an easel: Managing High-Risk Pregnancies and Deliveries.

High-risk.

Her tummy squelched just a bit. As much as she loved her job, there were moments like this, when seeing it spelled out in crisp emotionless text sent her mind spinning into the past. As did each case that didn’t go the way she hoped it would. She’d spent nights staring at the ceiling in her bedroom, trying to make sense of it all. Which inevitably led to trying to draw her own baby’s face into sharp focus. Instead, the image had blurred with time.

Pregnant women were her passion. And she was committed to doing everything in her power to make each one’s delivery process as safe as possible. Was it because of the pain she’d gone through when she’d lost her child? Maybe. All she knew was that she was driven to help every woman she could. And every baby.

So here she was in New York, substituting for a panelist at the plea from a sister hospital. She’d come straight from the airport to the huge Westcott Hotel complex—her home for the next week. Hopefully the rest of her stay would be less chaotic than today had been.

* * *

She avoided looking at the sign again, instead tugging the heavy door and peering inside. The sound of chattering voices had her sagging with relief. People were still milling around the huge room, looking for empty seats, while someone passed out bottles of water to the panel members on the dais. Evidently she wasn’t the only one running late.

Making sure that envelope wasn’t sticking out, she shifted her purse higher onto her shoulder and made her way up four steps to the top of the platform.

So far so good. No one had noticed her entry.

She edged past the first three panelists as she tried to figure out where she was supposed to sit. The crisply folded nameplates were facing the audience, so she had no idea who anyone was. There were still two empty seats up here. Which one was hers?

She reached the first empty chair and leaned over it, tipping the paper name card so she could see it. Someone named Abe Williams. Okay, it wasn’t this one.

The person sitting to the left turned slightly to look up—did a second take.

Shock and horror snaked up her spine just as the lights from the huge overhead chandeliers faded and came back up. A signal that they were getting ready to start.

A signal she ignored, her tummy muscles spasming in protest. She pressed a hand to it, gritting her teeth to keep the sudden slash of pain from exiting her throat.

She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak...couldn’t move.

Oh, God.

All of a sudden, Grace’s face swam before her eyes in focus once again. Because she was the spitting image of this man, mirrored in those familiar features—that sharp nose, high cheekbones, those blue-gray eyes.

Saliva pooled in her mouth. A quick swallow sent it rushing to join the acidic lagoon growing inside her.

The lights winked again.

“Hello, Kady. Small world.” The low, graveled tone that had once driven her wild with need was now tight. With anger? Hatred?

If so, it wasn’t reflected in his eyes. They didn’t flicker away, just held hers with an impassivity that made her want to cry. The same impassivity he’d shown at the end of their marriage.

It had been two years since their divorce...three years since their daughter’s death.

Hurt made her draw a shaky breath, unsure what to do or say. The lights came back up a third time, and the moderator moved behind the podium. He gave them a pointed glance that sent her hurrying down the row without a word. She felt Tucker’s gaze follow her.

It could be worse. She could be sitting right next to him.

Worse?

What could be worse than attending the same convention as a man who’d had a vasectomy just to make sure he never fathered another child with you?

She’d pleaded with him. Had begged him to reconsider.

Remembered humiliation quickened her steps.

Never again. She would never rely on another man for her happiness. This time around she would be one in charge of her future. Of whether she had another child or not.

She dropped into the padded metal seat and scooted it under the table, cringing as the legs made an awful squealing sound against the polished wooden floor. The man at the podium glanced her way again, a frown on his face. She mouthed, “Sorry,” then dug into her attaché for the notes she’d brought. How was she going to speak when it came her turn?

The crowded room would have been nerve-racking enough, but to have someone who’d once known the most intimate details of her life sit there and weigh her every word?

Her thumb scrubbed over the spot on her finger. Empty, but not forgotten. Neither had her muscle memory erased the habit of reaching for it whenever she was nervous.

Or missing him.

No, she didn’t miss him. Not anymore.

The moderator gave a quick summary of the topic and then started down the line of presenters, reading from a sheet that evidently contained each person’s professional bio. She stared at her notes, willing the words to make sense. Willing herself to drown out the well-modulated voice from seconds earlier. Her thumb searched for that missing ring yet again.

Stop it, Kady.

She should have been counting people, so she could brace herself for the mention of her ex’s name, but since she didn’t remember how many seats there were, all she could do was sit there in dread.

“Dr. Tucker Stevenson, pediatric surgeon specializing in fetal surgery at Wilson-Ross Memorial Hospital, New York City.”

Her heart twisted. Even the best surgeon in the world couldn’t have prevented what had happened three years ago. And Tucker was one of the best.

The moderator moved on to the next panelist, listing dry facts that barely scratched the surface of what made each person live and breathe...and grieve.

“Dr. Kadeline McPherson, maternal-fetal medicine, at Wilson-Ross Memorial Hospital, Atlanta, Georgia.”

No mention of anyone’s personal life, how many children, spouse’s name. Thank God. And she was even more thankful that she’d gone back to her maiden name. Kadeline Stevenson might have caused awkward questions that she’d rather not answer. She suspected Tucker would prefer that little tidbit to remain buried as well.

She gulped.

Buried.

She hated that word. Avoided using it like the plague.

Speech. Read your speech.

Fiddling with her thin sheaf of papers that contained words she’d recited hundreds of times, she prayed for a clear head. The question-and-answer phase was the trickier part, trying to think up responses on the fly.

With Tucker sitting in the same room.

Forget about him, Kady.

The table microphone inched its way down the line as each person finished.

Tucker’s turn came, and his voice cut through her all over again. So much for forgetting about him.

His words were sure and firm, with a confidence that came with being the top in his field.

Kady closed her eyes and tried to drown him out with a bawdy mental rendition of “Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall”, but it didn’t work. Especially since he’d sung that very song to her during her labor to take her mind off the pain.

If only she’d known the real pain would come months after the baby’s actual birth.

“Fetal surgical intervention is necessary in any number of cases. My most recent involved an obstructed urethra in an eight-month-old fetus. Surgery removed the blockage and mother and baby were both fine.”

They were both fine. How many times did he say that in a day?

Light applause followed his speech, just like it had everyone else’s. Kady realized she was the only one not clapping, but just as she went to join in, the sound died away, leaving her with her hands up, palms facing each other.

Tucker chose that very moment to glance her way. One side of his mouth quirked up, a crease coming to life in his right cheek.

Her breath caught as a spark of something dark arrowed through her abdomen. For a few awful seconds she couldn’t look away. He evidently didn’t have the same problem, giving his attention to the next speaker, who talked about controlling blood pressure in patients with preeclampsia.

She wasn’t making that mistake again.

She focused on some nameless audience member as the microphone moved again, capturing the topic of twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. So far no one had mentioned genetic abnormalities, but no symposium of high-risk pregnancies would be complete without that element. Normally she could just sit there stoically, an expression of polite interest superglued to her face.

But with Tucker sitting just down the row? Almost impossible.

Was he thinking the same thing?

Doubtful. He’d somehow seemed to be able to push Grace out of his life and thoughts with the same ease that he’d signed those divorce papers. Out of sight. Out of mind. Was that how it worked with him?

No, she’d seen his grief firsthand. Raw and angry and ready to wreak havoc on the gods for what had happened. In the end, the only true havoc he’d wreaked had been on their relationship when he’d stated they were having no more children. Ever. She’d had no say. Her request to him to go with her to genetic counseling had fallen on deaf ears. Nothing had moved him from his stance.

And yet a second ago he’d tossed her a smile that had napalmed her senses as if nothing had ever happened between them. As if they were old friends.

They were not friends.

The drone of voices went silent. Glancing up in a panic, she realized it was because it was her turn to speak. The microphone was already in front of her. How had she missed that?

Clearing her throat and hearing it amplified through the whole auditorium made her wince. As did the light laughter that accompanied it. “Sorry. It was a long flight.”

More laughter. Louder this time. Maybe because the flight from Atlanta to New York only took a little over two hours.

The emotional distance, though, was much, much longer.

She forced an amused crinkle to her nose. “Long day at the office?”

This time the laughter was with her rather than aimed at her. It helped put her at ease and allowed her to temporarily block out all thoughts of Tucker Stevenson. Plunging into her brief five-minute speech, she allowed her passion for the subject at hand to propel her through to the end. Wasn’t her specialty all about empowering women during difficult times?

And wasn’t that what her IVF quest was all about?

The audience clapped, and she couldn’t stop herself from sneaking a glance back down the line of presenters. Tucker was leaning forward, his elbows planted on the table, head swiveled in her direction. This time he gave her a nod that she could swear contained at least a hint of admiration.

For her?

A shiver went through her.

No, she had to be mistaken.

A thought came to mind. Had he gone through with the procedure?

The thought of her ex-husband never fathering another sweet baby girl like their Grace pierced straight through her. He’d been a wonderful daddy—once he’d got over his initial fears of inadequacy. He’d loved their daughter in a way that had made her go all gooey inside—had made her hot for him and him alone. No other man could touch what she’d once felt for Tucker.

Watching as that pristine white casket was slowly lowered into the ground had changed him, though.

It had changed both of them.

Gone had been the days of frantic lovemaking. Of being unable to wait to get each other’s clothes off. In fact, Tucker had moved into another bedroom soon afterward, cutting himself off from her completely.

The difference between them was that Kady had never completely let go of hope. Even in the aftermath of Grace’s death.

It took two recessive genes coming together to cause Tay-Sachs. He could have had children with someone else and not had a problem. Although since neither of them were of Ashkenazi Jewish heritage, it had never dawned on them that they could be carriers until it was too late. What were the chances? Enough to land them with a horrific diagnosis.

Any future children they’d produced would have had a one in four chance of having the same deadly genetic imprint.

But there were other ways to have kids. Adoption. Even genetic selection of embryos, although that thought made her stomach swish sideways.

The last panelist finished and not one of them had spoken about genetic abnormalities, which she found odd. Unless there was a dedicated workshop just focusing on screening. She would have to look at the schedule and avoid any such session like the plague.

The moderator opened the floor to questions—the moment she’d been dreading the most.

The first one came from a female audience member and was directed at Tucker. “How many fetal surgeries have you done? And what are the most common things you’ve corrected? The last question goes along with that. Have you ever had a case that you knew was hopeless?”

The long seconds of silence that followed the query would have made any librarian proud. Only Kady knew exactly what had caused it. And why.

A thousand pins pricked the backs of her eyelids and she had to steel herself not to let them take hold. Instead, she clasped her hands tightly together and willed him the strength to get through the question.

“I’ve done a few hundred surgeries, although I don’t have an exact number. The most common procedures I’ve run into have been neural tube defects. And, no, I’ve never had a case where I’ve given up without at least exploring every available option.”

That answer jerked her head sideways to stare down the line at him. He most certainly had. The fact that he could sit there and let that answer fall from his lips made the pendulum swing from sympathy back toward anger.

Only this time he didn’t look her way, so her mad face was useless.

Two questions later, someone asked Kady what her toughest case had been.

“That would be my divorce.” She laughed as if it was all a big joke, even though that barb had been sent straight toward the hunk to her left. “Sorry. No, my toughest case was a mother who came in at six months carrying quadruplets. She’d had no prenatal care and was seizing—in full eclampsia.” A whisper of gasps went through the audience. Kady waited for it to die down, knowing the worst was yet to come. That case had made her cry, and had almost, almost made her quit medicine completely. But they needed to know the realities of what they would face.

She forced herself to continue. “Only one of those babies survived. That was hard. I can’t stress enough the need for early intervention and care, and you should stress it to your patients as well. Knowledge really is power in cases like this one. If she’d been followed from her first trimester, we probably could have given her a good outcome that ended with four live births.”

Even as she said it, she knew—from experience—there were some conditions that no amount of care or intervention could fix.

An hour later, the questions had been exhausted and people filtered from the room, leaving her to stuff her papers back into her bag and plan her escape. The moderator handed her a note. She glanced at it and frowned. The head of maternal-fetal surgery at Wilson-Ross wanted her to stop by his office when she had a chance.

Why? Unless it had something to do with the conference. She made a mental note to swing by the hospital as she dropped the slip of paper into her purse. Her fingers brushed across the IVF clinic’s letter, and she couldn’t stop herself from glancing at it. It was a huge decision. But maybe it was the best one for her.

“I didn’t realize you were going to be here.” Someone settled into the vacated chair next to her.

She snatched her attention from the letter, jerking the edges of her handbag closed.

Get real, Kady. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.

“I could say the same thing about you.” She hadn’t meant that to come out as surly as it had.

His glance traveled from her face to her hand, making her realize her fingers were still clenched around the opening to her bag.

“The difference is,” he said, “I work here.”

“I was a last-minute substitution. Your administrator asked me to come.”

“Ah, so you’re taking Dr. Blacke’s place, then. I’d wondered who they got.”

“Is he traveling?”

“No. He found out he has pancreatic cancer last week.”

Up came her head, her eyes finding his. “Oh. I’m so sorry, Tucker. I had no idea. Does he have a good prognosis?”

“Unfortunately no, although all of us have seen hopeless cases turn around completely.”

“And sometimes they don’t.” She forced her fingers to release their death grip on her purse, afraid he’d read some kind of telling emotion into the act.

Ha! As if there wasn’t.

“You’re right. Sometimes they don’t.” He studied her for a few seconds before continuing, “Our divorce was the toughest thing you’ve ever handled?”

“It was an icebreaker. It was supposed to be funny.” Especially since they both knew the correct and not-funny-at-all answer would have been Grace’s death. “None of them know we were ever married, much less divorced.”

“And yet we’ve been both.” His mouth tightened slightly. “Maiden name?”

“Easier, don’t you think?” If he could do short, concise questions, so could she. Especially as her heart was beginning to set up a slow thudding in her chest that spelled danger. She needed to get out of there.

“Easier? Possibly.”

Possibly? That drew her up short. How did that even make sense? Of course it was easier.

“I think it is. People won’t automatically see the last names and wonder if we’re brother and sister. Or something else.”

One side of that mouth quirked again. “Oh, it was definitely something else.”

The thudding became a triplet of beats. Then another. How was it that he could still turn her knees to jelly with the single turn of phrase?

“Tucker...” She allowed a warning note to enter her voice.

He leaned back in his chair. “So how are you?”

“Fine.”

Sure she was. Right now, she was anything but fine. Why had she let herself be talked into this stupid trip?

He leaned forward. “Okay, let’s cut to the chase. Are you staying for the entire conference?”

“Yes. You?” It was a stupid question, since he lived here, but her brain was currently operating in a fog.

“Hmm...”

She would take that as a yes.

“Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.

A weird squeaking sound came from her throat that she disguised as a laugh. “I take it that wasn’t an invitation.”

He smiled the first real smile she’d seen since she’d been there. “I take it you wouldn’t accept, if it was.”

“That probably wouldn’t be wise.” Not that they hadn’t done some very unwise things over the course of their relationship. “The hospital booked me a room at the hotel across the street. It’s convenient. And close to both the hospital and the conference center.”

“Convenient. That’s one word for it.”

Was he saying that her being here was making it awkward for him? Of course it was. Just like being around him was uncomfortable for her. In more ways than one.

She took a deep breath and asked a real question. “How are you, Tucker...really?”

“I’m busy.” His smile faded, the words taking on an edge that made her tilt her head. And it didn’t answer her question.

“You always were in high demand.”

“With some people. Not so much with others.”

Was he talking about their marriage? Because she hadn’t been the one to withdraw. He had. She’d loved this man. Deeply. Passionately. It was why it had devastated her when he’d shut down completely during Grace’s illness—pulling away from everyone except for his patients.

She’d been his wife! Grace’s slow downward spiral had been just as painful for her. The worst thing was, she’d felt frighteningly alone during those first few months after her death, while Tucker had slept in the guest bedroom and spent longer and longer hours working at the hospital. Desperate to reconnect with him on whatever level she could, she’d casually said maybe they should try to have another baby. If she’d thought that would lure him back into their bedroom, she couldn’t have been more wrong. He’d looked at her as if she’d taken leave of her senses, his next words chilling her to the bone.

I’ll never have another child.

When she’d started to say something more, he’d cut her off with a shake of his head and walked out of the room. Any time she’d brought up the subject after that, begging him to talk to her, she’d been met with the same stony response. Rather...no response. And his hours at the office had increased so that he’d barely been home at all.

Then had come the final blow. On the first anniversary of Grace’s death, he’d announced he’d decided to get a vasectomy, as if it was something people did every day. He’d probably hoped that would end all talk of having more children. It had.