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Connor met Gillian’s gaze and forgot everything but the color of her eyes. She put her hand on his arm. Warm, small, delicate…her touch stirred something deep inside. “Have dinner with me,” he said. “Please.”
She hesitated. He knew she was going to say no. But that wouldn’t do. And not because of his sentence. Because he didn’t want the feel of her hand on his arm to go away. “Please,” he said again.
She nodded. A tiny move.
He reached out with his hand and brushed her cheek. Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined. Softer.
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said.
She blushed and then took her hand from his arm. She opened her mouth, and he could see in her eyes that she was going to change her mind.
There was only one thing to do. He kissed her.
Dear Reader,
The lazy days of summer are here, and Harlequin American Romance has four charming new stories for your enjoyment! Whether you’re relaxing on the beach, out on a picnic or just grabbing a few moments of special time for yourself, we hope our books will brighten your days.
Harlequin American Romance has the pleasure of launching the brand-new continuity series MAITLAND MATERNITY with Tina Leonard’s Surprise! Surprise!, a doubly precious tale of twins who bring their parents back together. Look for Jacqueline Diamond’s I Do! I Do! next month, followed by twelve brand-new MAITLAND MATERNITY stories, coming from Harlequin Books!
Summer is a popular time for gettin’ hitched, as the BACHELORS OF SHOTGUN RIDGE are about to find out! Mindy Neff’s exciting new miniseries begins with sexy bachelor Wyatt Malone’s story, The Rancher’s Mail-Order Bride. Don’t miss Ethan and Stony’s stories, coming in July and August!
Dr. Gail Roberts has a very special little gift for Brian Walker in Linda Randall Wisdom’s My Little One, the continuation of our wonderful WITH CHILD…promotion. And Jo Leigh tells the story of a doctor who gets waylaid in a small Texas town and finds love when he least expects it. Doctor, Darling will steal your heart!
Our best wishes for a summer filled with warmth and romance. Happy reading!
Melissa Jeglinski
Associate Senior Editor
Doctor, Darling
Jo Leigh
www.millsandboon.co.uk
MILLS & BOON
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Jo Leigh currently lives just outside Las Vegas, Nevada, where she still can’t get used to the slot machines in the grocery stores. Storytelling has always been a part of her life, whether as a producer in Hollywood, a screenwriter or a novelist. It probably began when she told her third-grade teacher that elephants ate her homework.
Books by Jo Leigh
HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE
695—QUICK, FIND A RING!
731—HUSBAND 101
736—DADDY 101
749—IF WISHES WERE…DADDIES
768—CAN’T RESIST A COWBOY
832—DOCTOR, DARLING
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
568—LITTLE GIRL FOUND
Contents
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
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
Conner Malloy stood in front of the Eat ’N Greet diner, in the middle of the quaint little town. He knew it was the middle because he could see where the town ended and the highway began, both ways. If a thousand people lived in Miller’s Landing, Texas, he’d be surprised. It was six hours from Houston, his home, and miles from any serious traffic. But it did have an antique store.
He’d found the store on the Internet when he’d searched for medical antiques. After e-mailing the proprietor for a couple of weeks, Conner had realized he needed to see the goods in person. If the stuff was on the level, it meant he’d finally be able to illustrate his book with accurate pictures instead of drawings that might or might not have been to scale.
He knew the antique store was on Main Street. Right next door to the Sew ’N Sew fabric store and across from Lulu’s Dresses.
It was exciting, he had to admit. Although he wasn’t a writer by trade, he’d been fascinated by old medical techniques and implements ever since his first year of residency. The hobby had become a passion over the years, so he didn’t think it was odd to take his vacation in this little Podunk town despite what Hugh said. Or any of the other attending physicians at Texas Children’s Hospital. They just didn’t understand, that’s all. When the book got published, they’d change their tune.
A woman in a denim dress stepped out of the coffee shop and stood stock-still when she saw him. She stared at him oddly, as if she’d just seen his face on America’s Most Wanted. He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. Friendly little town.
There it was. Odds ’N Ends. And right smack-dab in the middle of the display window was a real jewel. A rib spreader, circa early 1800s. In terrific condition. Conner’s gaze stayed on the surgical antique as he pushed open the door. Well, tried to. It was locked.
Then he saw the little sign. Closed For Eleanor’s Birthday. Conner had no idea who Eleanor was, but already he didn’t care for her. Six hours on the road, a lousy meal at a truck stop on the way, and the place was closed for Eleanor’s birthday. Great.
For a moment, he contemplated getting back in his car and heading for home, but then he looked at the rib spreader again. What else might Mr. Johnson have inside?
Conner looked at his watch. It was almost four. He was hungry, tired and cranky, and a shower would be mighty welcome. He’d passed a motel. The Set ’N Stay. What was it about the word and these people hated?
He quickly crossed the street and headed for the motel. The woman in the denim dress had moved, and now she stood in the shade of the fabric store. He nodded again, and she stared again. Weird. Then, as he passed the hardware store, another woman stepped to the doorway. She, too, gawked at him, unsmiling. He didn’t bother nodding to her.
When it happened again at the Laundromat, he got the willies. Another woman, this one with lacquered silver hair and little pursed mouth, lifted her head to peer at him through the bottom of her bifocals.
“Afternoon,” he said, trying to shake off the feeling that Stephen King might be lurking behind a washing machine.
“Afternoon,” she said back, her voice as stiff as her bouffant hairdo.
Conner kept right on going. At least one person stood in each doorway. At the diner, there was a record four. A woman and three children. The little boy wore an X-Files T-shirt. That explained it. Maybe he should just forget it. Get in his car and go. No. He needed those antiques.
He walked faster. It wasn’t until he’d reached the front of the motel that he realized he’d been humming “Strange Days” by the Doors. “Amen, brother,” Conner said as he stepped into the front office.
GILLIAN BATES put the key in the lock of her classroom as she tried to remember if she’d defrosted the chicken for tonight’s supper. So when she turned and Felicia Goodwin was right there, Gillian gasped.
“Did you hear?” Felicia asked, not even apologizing for scaring Gillian half to death.
“Hear what?”
“That doctor Axel was talking about. He’s here.”
“What doctor?”
“You know. The one who’s all hot and bothered about that old medical crap Axel keeps in his store.”
“Oh, that doctor,” Gillian said, not having a clue what Felicia was going on about. She started down the hallway of the only school in Miller’s Landing. All the kids had gone except for Janice’s music class. Gillian heard the cry of an ill elephant emanating from the cafeteria and knew that Cory Tracy was practicing his tuba.
“Yes, that doctor,” Felicia said. “Only he’s not what we thought.”
“No?”
“No. He’s young. And he’s damn good-looking.”
“Really?” Gillian knew what was coming. It was as if a single woman—a single mother—was anathema to the whole town. She’d been living in Miller’s Landing for four and a half years, and not a week had gone by when someone didn’t bring up her marital status. She used to get upset about it. Now, she ignored it.
“I saw him myself,” Felicia went on. “I was just coming out of Lulu’s. She’s got some new dresses in, and some of them are just awful, but I did see one or two that would look good on you.”
They reached the exit, and Gillian pushed open the door, letting Felicia go out first.
“He walked right by me.” Felicia reached into the pocket of her denim dress and brought out a crinkled pack of cigarettes and a lighter.
“Did he?” Gillian asked, trying to sound enthusiastic. Or at least not deathly bored. But her mind wasn’t on the conversation with her neighbor. She was looking for Eli, who had gone to the playground after class to wait for her. She led Felicia, who paused twice while she tried to light her awful cigarette, to the back of the school. As soon as Gillian saw Eli on the swings, she smiled. He was having a grand time, swinging as high as his little legs would push him. The sight of him made everything in her world perfect.
“He’s a tall young man,” Felicia said. “Well over six feet if you ask me. Taller than Bradley, that’s for sure, and Bradley’s just a hair under six feet himself.”
Gillian tried not to laugh. Bradley, Felicia’s oldest, was maybe five foot six, at least when he had his boots on.
“And he’s got dark hair. Nice and thick. I tell you, he’s a looker.”
“That’s fascinating, Felicia. But I’m sure the nice doctor has a nice wife living in his nice home somewhere far away from here.”
“Houston. He’s from Houston. And we don’t know if he has a wife or not.”
“If he’s that good-looking, I’d be surprised if he didn’t.”
That made Felicia think. She came to a halt, inhaled a lungful of smoke, then let the smoke out slowly, obscuring the puzzled look on her face for a moment.
“Mom!”
“Hey, cute stuff!”
Eli flew off the swing at the very top of the arc, and Gillian’s heart stopped until she saw him land safely.
“I told you not to do that,” she said.
“Do what?”
“Jump off the swing.”
“Oh, Mom. Everybody does it.”
“I don’t care about everybody. You do it again, and you don’t get to use the swing.”
“Okay,” he mumbled. But his torment was short-lived. A second later, he gave her a beguiling smile. “Can we go to McDonald’s for dinner?”
“No, we cannot. I have a chicken defrosted.”
He gave her a look she found adorable but one she really shouldn’t encourage. His little face scrunched all up, and one lip curled on the side. She could eat him with a spoon.
“Afternoon, Eli,” Felicia said.
“Afternoon, Ms. Felicia.”
Gillian took Eli’s hand and headed for the parking lot. Felicia followed.
“I hear he’s staying the night at the motel.”
“That’s nice,” Gillian said. “Esther can use the income.”
“But he’ll have to eat, you know.”
“I would imagine.”
“So what I’m saying is why don’t you come eat at the diner, too?”
Gillian sighed. “Felicia, you’re a wonderful neighbor and you make the best bundt cake in the history of the world, but if you don’t stop trying to marry me off to strangers, I’m going to have to hurt you.”
Felicia laughed. “I can’t help it, Gillian. It goes against my nature to see a woman as pretty as you go it alone.”
“I’m not alone. I have Eli.”
“And he’s a mighty fine boy. But a woman has needs…”
They reached her Toyota, and Eli sprinted to the passenger door. “I don’t want to talk about my needs,” Gillian said. “Especially when I’m with my mighty fine boy.”
Felicia frowned. She actually was an attractive woman. At fifty-seven, she could pass for forty, and when she dressed up, which rarely happened, she could look like a belle of thirty-five. “Well, you do what you think best,” she said. “But I’m going to eat at the Greet. And so is Elizabeth.”
Gillian opened her door. “Say hello for me.”
“Sure you won’t come?”
Gillian got into the car and shut the door. Leaning out the open window, she gave Felicia a smile and a wave. “See you later.”
“If Aunt Elizabeth is eating out, why can’t we?” Eli asked.
“Because I have a chicken defrosted.”
Eli kicked the dashboard with his sneaker. “I don’t even like chicken.”
“Well then, you can just eat the green beans.”
He scrunched his face up again. Gillian smiled.
CONNER DIALED his home number to get his messages. After he punched in his code, he looked around his room. It wasn’t the Four Seasons, but it wasn’t bad. The king-size bed seemed firm, the linens clean. And the TV carried several cable channels.
No messages. He hung up the phone, then got the room key from the nightstand. He was so hungry even the prospect of eating at the Eat ’N Greet was getting him all excited. Actually, he shouldn’t be so prejudiced. Sometimes small-town diners had the best food. Why not this place?
He got a paperback out of his overnight bag, then left the ground-floor room, locking it behind him. The air had cooled slightly since he’d checked in. It would be a lovely night. March could be ungodly hot in Texas, so this was a treat. In fact, he was glad he needed to walk to the diner. He wanted to see if the people in the doorways were still there.
He got to Main Street and turned left. The trees cast long shadows on the uneven sidewalk, and he could see his reflection clearly in the windows, which wasn’t what he’d been after. He’d wanted to check out the little stores, see how the town displayed itself. But it was too nice out to be displeased for long. This was his vacation after all.
His much needed vacation. The hospital had been particularly busy in the past few months, and while he had interns and residents to take up some of the slack, he’d felt as though he’d been living in the hospital instead of his apartment. He’d eaten too much cafeteria food, slept on too many call-room cots and had too many nights of interrupted sleep. Tonight, he’d go to bed early and sleep forever. Well, at least until noon.
He passed the bakery door and surprised the young woman locking up. She jumped as if he’d been a ghost, then gave him a sort of smile. He nodded and smiled in return but picked up his pace. What an odd town. In fact, he could feel the woman watching him. That uncomfortable, vulnerable sense that a bull’s-eye was painted on his back stayed with him as he passed a doctor’s office. Finally, he couldn’t help himself; he had to look back.
Sure enough, the bakery woman was staring at him while she talked into a cellular phone. At least she had the decency to turn when he caught her.
It didn’t matter, though. There was the Eat ’N Greet. Maybe he’d have some chicken-fried steak. It was an indulgence he rarely gave in to, but tonight, he felt like walking on the wild side.
There was his Land Rover. He’d drive it to the motel after dinner and park it in the small lot out back, which was better than leaving it on the main drag.
He reached the entrance of the diner and saw two signs, one that told him he’d better be wearing a shirt and shoes if he wanted service, and the other advertising free kittens, call Pop Burns for details. When was the last time he’d seen free kittens advertised on a restaurant door?
He pushed on through but stopped immediately. The place was packed. Every table, except one, was occupied by at least two people. All the booths were filled, and even the long counter had no vacancies. His gaze went back to the empty table. It was right in the middle of the diner. Where everyone could get a nice eyeful if they wanted. And given the fact that every person in the place was staring at him, he’d wager they did.
A woman, he wasn’t sure who, cleared her throat. As if on cue, everyone turned away at the same time. Two seconds later, they started talking. Five seconds later, both waitresses picked up plates of food from the kitchen and headed toward the booths.
Weird. Very weird. He didn’t think anyone was going to seat him, so he made his way to the empty table. As soon as he sat down, one of the waitresses—Juanita, according to the name embroidered on the pink uniform—gave him a menu and the first really welcoming smile he’d seen in Miller’s Landing. He smiled back, deciding right then to leave an obscenely large tip.
“How y’all doing?” Juanita asked, her Texas twang pronounced.
“Fine, thanks.”
“We’ve got some meat loaf on special tonight. And some fried chicken.”
“How about chicken-fried steak?”
“You got it.”
“And a beer?”
She nodded. “We got Miller on tap.”
“Perfect.”
She smiled again and headed off for the kitchen. Conner took the opportunity to open his book. But it was damn hard to read when he felt like the main attraction at a carnival. He kept having to reread whole passages. But he didn’t give up. Even when Juanita brought him his dinner, he kept on reading. He stopped briefly to cut up his food—the best chicken-fried steak he’d had in his life—but then went right back to Michael Crichton’s latest.
Some kid bumped his table on his way out, and then Juanita told him they had homemade cherry cobbler, which he ordered. Other than that, things seemed to settle down. Maybe the novelty of a stranger in town was wearing off. He sure hoped so.
By the time he’d finished his coffee and cobbler and paid the bill, he felt almost kindly toward Miller’s Landing. So what if people stared? His dinner had made up for that in spades. He’d come here again tomorrow. He wanted to try the peach cobbler.
He left Juanita five bucks, then headed out. He heard the sound of chairs scraping, of bodies rising from the fake leather seats in the booths. Was everyone going to leave with him? Maybe walk him to his car? Then the woman cleared her throat again, and everyone paused. Conner hurried out the door.
When he got outside, he saw a local sheriff talking to the woman from the bakery. They were at the far edge of the Eat ’N Greet, leaning against the window. On the other side of the building, also leaning against the window, was the woman in the denim dress. She was smoking a cigarette.
He shook his head as he went to his car door. Just as he unlocked it, his gaze went to his windshield. To the hole in the middle of the glass. Perfectly round, the size of a BB, with a corona of broken glass around it. “Dammit to hell,” he said, cursing whoever had aimed the BB gun, the diner, the whole weird town. Where was he going to get that fixed out here?
Just as he was getting into his wounded vehicle, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to find the sheriff standing next to his car. Good. Maybe he’d help find the cretinous little vandals.
“Officer…” he began. But he didn’t go on. The look the cop was giving him wasn’t terribly benevolent.
“Excuse me, sir, but what do you see over there?”
Conner looked back at the diner, where the cop was pointing. Standing in the doorway were three kids and a woman in jeans and a T-shirt. Two girls and a boy, none of them over eight. “I see a family,” Conner answered, not at all sure what the hell was going on.
“A family. That’s right. A woman and her children.”
Conner frowned at the cop, wondering if he was being filmed in some practical joke. “Yeah?”
“I don’t know what they let you get away with in Houston, but in this town, we don’t dishonor our women or expose our youngsters to things they oughtn’t to hear.”
“Pardon me?”
“In this town, it’s against the law to curse in front of women and children, sir. And I’m placing you under arrest.”
Conner laughed. But the laughter died when he watched the sheriff, who looked suspiciously like Rod Steiger, pull out his handcuffs. “Are you kidding?”
“I don’t kid when it comes to women and children. This is a decent town, and I intend to keep it that way.”
“But I only said—”
The cop stopped him with an upraised hand. “Don’t dig the well any deeper, son. Just come along with me.”
Conner felt the sheriff lift his arm. He felt the cold steel of the handcuff snap around his wrist. He kept waiting to hear the Twilight Zone theme, but it didn’t come. Not on the drive down the street. Not when he was helped out of the patrol car. Not even when the sheriff locked him behind bars.
When the sheriff had gone, leaving Conner completely alone in his cell, he remembered that he’d left his book in his Land Rover. Great. Just great.
Chapter Two
Gillian had forgotten to defrost the chicken. She sighed as she stared at the inside of her fridge, waiting for some wonderful delicacy to leap out from behind the carton of nonfat milk. Instead, the little light in the back decided to burn out. Poof. It was dark, the surprise treat failed to materialize, and she had nothing for dinner.
She closed the fridge and leaned her head against the cool white door. A good mother would have remembered to take the chicken out. A good mother wouldn’t dream of taking her growing son out for fast food again. Even a halfway decent mother could probably find something in the pantry that was nutritious and tasty. But the truth was she wouldn’t be getting any awards for mothering tonight. Because it was going to be fast food or pizza. She’d love the convenience of having the pizza delivered, but Eli would want the golden arches. Who was she to argue?
She pushed herself away from the fridge and picked up her purse. “Eli!”
“What?” a little voice called from upstairs.
“Come down here.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“Okay.”
“Now.”
“Okay.”
Did she have cash? She opened her purse and found her wallet. In it, she found two credit cards, three twenty-cent stamps, a coupon for bug spray and a very crumpled twenty-dollar bill. Thank goodness she wouldn’t have to go to the bank, too. All she wanted was a nice, long bath. Scented with lavender. Candles flickering on the sink and around the tub. Soft music, Debussy maybe, playing in the background. It wasn’t that much to ask for, was it?
The sound of an elephant clomping down the stairs made her turn. How a four-and-a-half-year-old could make that much noise all by himself astounded her. She could see why he’d been upstairs—the call of his Game Boy had been too much for him. So, rather than just turn the electronic demon off, he’d brought it with him. She heard little pings and splats as he got to the bottom of the stairs.