Her Maverick M.d.

On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, the reality of sharing a bed with Jon was a fifteen.

It pushed twenty when she felt the mattress dip from his weight. And the masculine scent of his skin drifted to her, firing up her hormones even more.

“Good night.”

“‘Night.” His voice was ragged, rough.

Dawn couldn’t speak for him, but she was as tense as a bowstring and ready to snap. “Jon, I—”

He threw back the covers. “This isn’t going to work.”

She rolled over to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“I want you.” There was no mistaking the need in his voice this time. It was honest and raw. “I can’t help it. I can’t make it stop. If I touch you—” He swore under his breath. “I’m going in the other room.”

This time he didn’t say anything about sleeping. And there was no mistaking the way her heart soared in response to his declaration. He wanted her.

Before he could get out of bed she moved closer and reached for him. It was automatic, instinctive. Her hand touched his arm, the warm skin. And this time she said the word. “Stay.”

* * *

Montana Mavericks: The Baby Bonanza Meet Rust Creek Falls’ newest bundles of joy!

TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.

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To editor Susan Litman, who guides us through this Montana Mavericks maze with a combination of grace and humor.

It’s always a pleasure working with you.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

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

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Dr. Jonathan Clifton had never understood what it meant to be stopped dead in your tracks. That changed when he walked into the Rust Creek Falls Medical Clinic and saw the woman behind the reception desk. She stopped him cold—or maybe hot—with long blond hair falling past her shoulders and bluebonnet-colored eyes that could tempt a man to kiss her. Or bring him to his knees. Since he had no intention of letting that happen to him again it was strictly an observation about the very pretty receptionist he would be working with.

Moving to the open window separating her from the crowded waiting room, Jon patiently waited for her to hang up the phone. That was when he noticed her blue scrubs decorated with cartoon animals. The stethoscope draped around her neck was a clue that she probably wasn’t the receptionist. But she sounded a little frazzled, possibly fatigued and even prettier up close than she’d appeared from across the room.

When she hung up the phone, he smiled at her. “Hi. Is it always this busy in here?”

“Pretty much. But today is more crazy than usual.”

Say something brilliant, he told himself. And funny. “It’s still summer. Not even flu season yet.”

“Tell me about it,” she agreed. “Things should get really interesting in a couple months.”

“Flu shots would help. Might want to think about having a flu shot fair. Kind of like a health fair but with the focus on prevention.” When she smiled at him he nearly broke his promise to not let a woman bring him to his knees. “Just a thought.”

“It’s a good one. There are few things Rust Creek Falls likes more than a reason for a community get-together.”

“Folks here do like a gathering.”

“So you know our little slice of Montana paradise,” she said.

“Yeah.”

The woman tilted her head, studying him. “Have we met? You look familiar.”

“I’ve been here before. My brother lives just outside of town.”

“Ah, a visitor. And you’re here to see the doctor. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Have you signed in?”

He looked at the lined sheet attached to a clipboard. Each line was a sticky strip. When patients arrived, they signed in then the name was removed for privacy purposes. “I’m not a patient.”

“Oh?” Her expression turned appraising and a little wary. “Are you selling something?”

He was trying to sell himself—his personality, at least—because he would be working with this woman. But he’d always been more interested in doctoring than witty repartee.

And Jon could feel it coming on. The persona his brothers referenced when they’d nicknamed him Professor. The one where he turned a little formal, a little stiff and standoffish. Too analytical. But trying not to be left him a lot tongue-tied. “I’m here— The kids—”

“So you have an appointment for your child?” She glanced past him, looking for one.

“No.” That sounded abrupt. He smiled. “I don’t have kids. That I know of.”

She looked a little surprised at the lame remark. “You’re a visitor and may not know this, but thanks to Homer Gilmore’s wedding moonshine prank more than one man became a father this year without knowing. It’s not something to be cavalier about.”

“That was a bad joke,” he acknowledged.

“No problem.” Her tension eased. “Guess we’re still a little sensitive about the incident.”

“I understand. In fact my brother was a victim of the punch. He’d just closed escrow on his ranch—”

“So, you’re a cowboy.” She looked interested.

At least he thought so and really hated to tell her the truth. “I’m not a cowboy.”

“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “The snap-front shirt and worn jeans threw me off. Sorry.”

“No problem.”

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled apologetically. “I really have to get back to work.”

And Jon wanted just a little bit longer with her. So he started talking. “A lot of people dress like this who don’t herd cows on a ranch. In fact, you’re wearing scrubs, but I didn’t jump to the conclusion that you’re a doctor. But I feel pretty confident that you’re not the receptionist.”

“Really?” The corners of her mouth curved up. “What makes you so sure?”

“You have a stethoscope around your neck. Someone who answers the phone wouldn’t need one handy.” He smiled and leaned his forearms on the wall separating them. “And this is just the process of elimination, but my next guess would be that you’re a nurse. If I’m right, it’s a waste of your education, training and experience to have you answering phones.”

“We have a receptionist. Brandy. Somewhere.” She glanced around the front office area looking a little irritated with the missing receptionist. “But since she’s not here at the moment, my job description has spontaneously been expanded to include security checkpoint because I have to ask. Since you’re not a patient, or accompanying someone who is, do you have business here?”

“Technically the clinic is my business.” Good God, he sounded like a pompous idiot. This was not the first time he’d met and talked to a pretty girl, so what was his problem? Plastering a smile on his face, he held out his hand. “I’m Jon Clifton, MD. That is—Dr. Jonathan Clifton. I met with Emmet DePaulo about joining the staff here at the clinic—”

“The new doctor.” Suddenly her tone completely lacked warmth, as if he’d revealed his alter ego was Jack the Ripper.

“Pediatrician, technically.”

“Emmet told us the new doctor would be here in a couple of days. Wow, and I just jumped to the conclusion that you were a cowboy.” As comprehension slid into her eyes her cheeks turned pink.

The color in her face made her even prettier, if possible. “You should do that more often.”

“What? Humiliate myself?”

“No. Of course not. It’s just that blushing looks good on you.”

The brief bit of vulnerability in her expression disappeared and her blue eyes darkened with what appeared to be suspicion. “Really?”

Uh-oh. Apparently he’d stepped in it there. Note to self: they’d just met. She didn’t know his sense of humor yet. There was no way to accelerate the process of learning it. Only putting in one day after another, working together in the trenches during traumas and emergencies could do that. But maybe a little information about himself could speed things up.

“I actually live in Thunder Canyon. I’ve been working at the resort there with Dr. Marshall Cates. They added a pediatric specialist to the staff because a lot of families vacation there.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. And when the word spread that Rust Creek Falls could use my specialty I decided to lend a hand. I signed a contract for a year.”

“Ah.”

Hmm. One syllable, technically not even a word. It was a signal but he wasn’t certain whether or not the meaning was an invitation for him to continue with information. As a physician he’d been trained that the more facts you obtained in order to make a diagnosis, the better.

“It’s possible you know my brother. Will Clifton. Like I said, he owns a ranch and I’m staying in his guesthouse—well, it used to be the foreman’s house but... Anyway, I was at the wedding last summer when he accidentally married Jordyn Leigh.”

Her full lips pulled tight for a moment. “You say that as if it wasn’t really an accident on her part.”

“Don’t get me wrong. I understand that alcohol lowers one’s inhibitions. But it seems unlikely that punch—even a spiked one—can make someone do anything they don’t really want to.” Some part of his brain registered that based on the way her eyes were practically shooting fire he should stop talking, but the words continued to come out of his mouth. “There were a lot of babies conceived, which means there was quite a bit of ill-advised behavior. Should people have known better?” He shrugged at the question.

“Have you ever heard the saying ‘Never judge anyone unless you’ve walked a mile in their shoes’?” she asked sweetly.

“Are you suggesting that I should try the punch?”

“If the shoe fits...” She stared at him. “And for the record, spiked punch means something was added without the knowledge of those drinking it.”

“True, but—”

“Sometimes things are more complicated than they appear.”

He didn’t just sound like a pompous idiot, he decided, he actually was one. In his defense— Who was he kidding? There was no defense.

“Let me explain—”

“No need. I have to go find Brandy and get back to work.”

There was a definite coolness in her tone now. “Look, I feel as if—”

“I’ll let Emmet know the new doctor is here.”

Before Jon could come up with anything to keep her there—like letting her know he wasn’t always such a jerk—she walked away. Clearly something he’d said had hit her the wrong way, so it was a good thing she couldn’t read his mind. Because he was thinking that she filled out those unflattering scrubs in a fairly spectacular way. She—

And that’s when he realized that he forgot to ask her name.

It was customary when you introduced yourself to get that important information from the person you were introducing yourself to. But he’d kept talking about himself. It was probably just as well that she’d left before he said more to tick her off. After that fairly spectacular crash and burn he was anxious to get to work. Kids were a much easier crowd.

Moments after the nurse disappeared the door beside the reception window opened and Emmet DePaulo stood there. The man was tall and lean, somewhere in his sixties. When Jon had heard from family who lived here that there was a need in this town for healthcare professionals, he’d contacted Emmet, who was a nurse-practitioner. They’d met for dinner and Jon had found out the older man was a Vietnam-era veteran in addition to being easygoing and bighearted. He had a neatly trimmed beard that was more silver than brown and a wide, warm smile on his weathered face.

He’d explained that Rust Creek Falls was a rural area and his advanced nursing degree and certification allowed him to see and treat patients. He’d started this small clinic some years ago and kept it going through skill and sheer guts. That deserved respect. The fact was Emmet had the trust of the people in this town and Jon was the new doctor who would do his best to earn the same. In his book that made Emmet the boss.

He held out his hand. “Welcome to Rust Creek Falls, Jon. Follow me and we can talk in my office.”

Behind the other man he walked down a long hallway with exam rooms on either side. Corridors branched off and he figured soon enough he would get a tour of the place. And somewhere here in the back office was the pretty nurse he’d somehow offended, although there was no sign of her now.

The last door on the left opened to a room with a big flat-topped desk stacked with a computer and enough charts to bring on carpal tunnel. Framed degrees and certifications lined the walls along with a couple of photos. One showed a younger Emmet DePaulo in camouflage with several other people dressed the same way and a tent with a big red cross behind them. His army days.

“Have a seat, Jon.” When Emmet sat in the cushy black leather chair behind the desk Jon took one in front of it. “I didn’t expect you until next week.”

“I got here yesterday and decided to stop by. Get a jump on orientation.”

“Bored?”

“Maybe.” Jon had been on automatic pilot at his job for a while now and was looking for a change.

“You saw the standing-room-only in the waiting area. We could sure use your help seeing patients if you’re up for starting work early.”

“Happy to help.” He sincerely meant that. “Patient overload would explain why the young woman at the front desk was so—”

“Uptight?” Emmet’s brown eyes sparkled with amusement.

“I wasn’t going to say it.” Especially since he’d just been taken to task for being judgmental. “But she did seem sort of on edge.”

“Dawn—”

“That’s her name?”

“Yes. Dawn Laramie.”

“Ah.” One syllable to hide the fact that, in his opinion, the name suited her. She was as lovely as the morning sun coming up over the mountains. That thought stopped him. He was a science and medicine guy, not a poet. Where had that come from?

“The clinic is very lucky to have her. She’s a pediatric nurse. Came from the PICU at Mountain’s Edge Hospital, the closest Level One trauma center.”

Jon whistled. “That’s quite the commute from Rust Creek Falls.”

“Over an hour,” the other man confirmed. “That’s why I was able to lure her to the clinic. And along with Callie Crawford, my other nurse-practitioner, and Brandy Walters, who handles the front office, she’s overworked.”

“I see.”

“Like I told you when we talked, Rust Creek Falls is experiencing population growth and we’re really feeling it here at the clinic. Folks don’t abuse our walk-in policy so if they show up it’s because they really need medical attention.” The older man met his gaze. “And we make it a point to see everyone who shows up.”

“Are you trying to scare me off?”

“Heaven forbid. Just want you to know what you’re getting into.”

The job at Thunder Canyon Resort was occasionally challenging, but mostly not. It was cushy and predictable. But that’s exactly what Jon had been looking for when the position was offered to him—time and space to assess his career. The call for help here had come at a point when he was restless and looking for more.

“I’m ready for whatever you’ve got.”

“Good.” Emmet leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk. “And when you’re ready to tear your hair out, you should know that more help is on the way. Another doctor and nurse will be here shortly.”

“Okay.”

Emmet stood. “I’ll show you around and introduce you to the staff. Although you’ve already met Dawn.”

About her... Jon wished he could have a second chance at making a good first impression. But he was sure that when she got to know him, she’d put that initial skirmish behind her.

The two of them were going to get along just fine.

* * *

The new doctor.

That’s how it started when Dawn’s life had fallen apart.

She hadn’t thought this day could get any worse when Dr. Jon Clifton had shown up, but she’d been wrong. Apparently the slightest exposure to him deactivated brain function, because she had failed to process the fact that Jamie Stockton was bringing his triplets in for their monthly checkup on Dr. Dreamboat’s first day. Clifton was a pediatrician. As a nurse-practitioner Callie saw patients so Dawn was technically the clinic’s only nurse. Hence, she was going to have to be intimately involved in said checkup.

An office visit for three babies born prematurely almost six months ago was throwing the new doctor into the deep end of the pool on his first day. She could almost feel sorry for him if she didn’t already feel sorry for herself. Most nurses would be ecstatic at the opportunity to be in an exam room with the good-looking pediatrician. But most nurses hadn’t once upon a time been used and lied to by a new staff doctor. So when the guy had told her she should blush more, warning signals had gone off like a heart monitor during cardiac arrest.

But he was Emmet’s golden boy and they needed his kind of help here at the clinic. Her job was to assist him and she was all about doing a good job.

Dawn got a text on her cell phone that Jamie had just pulled into the clinic parking lot on South Lodgepole Lane. She pushed open the back exit door and headed for the rancher’s familiar vehicle. The cowboy slid out of the driver’s side and opened the rear passenger door. He was tall, a blue-eyed blond, although it was hard to tell the color of his hair because of the Stetson he always wore. There was an air of sadness about the tanned, muscular man. His wife had died in childbirth in February, nearly six months ago, and now he was working his ranch and raising triplets by himself.

He couldn’t manage three infant carriers alone so she always waited for his text, then helped bring the babies inside.

“Hi, Jamie. How are you?”

“Tired.” He sighed, looking into the backseat full of babies.

“I bet.” She reminded herself never again to whine about being exhausted. This single working father of triplets was the walking definition of exhaustion. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in months and had little prospect of one in the near future.

She grabbed one of the carriers and the bulging diaper bag, while Jamie took the other two and followed her into the building. All of the infants were sleeping soundly, probably soothed by the movement of the car during the drive.

“We’re going into exam room four, as always.” It was the biggest and had an infant scale. “The doctor will meet us there. Dr. Clifton is new, a pediatrician.”

“Okay.”

As it happened, the doctor didn’t meet them there—he was waiting for them. “Mr. Stockton, I’m Jonathan Clifton.”

“Nice to meet you, Doc.” Jamie put down one of the carriers to shake the other man’s hand. “Everyone calls me Jamie.”

“Okay. Please, call me Jon.” He glanced at the babies. “That’s a good-looking bunch you’ve got there. Cute kids.”

“Yeah.” That got a rare smile from the new father. “Henry, Jared and Kate. Just wait until they start crying all at once.”

“Doesn’t scare me. It means they’re healthy and that’s a good thing.” Dr. Clifton looked confident, cheerful and incredibly competent. Friendly and approachable.

Dawn thought the white lab coat over his shirt and jeans could have been sexier, but she wasn’t sure how. She’d been through this triple checkup scenario before and could have taken the lead, but decided to see how he’d deal with it. “Let me know what you want me to do, Doctor.”

He looked sincerely conflicted when he said, “It’s a shame to wake them, especially because they’re not going to like being undressed. But...” His gaze met hers. “Let’s do this assembly line style. We’ll put them on the exam table. Jamie, you ride herd and make sure no one rolls off. Dawn, you undress them down to the diaper and hand them to me. I’ll weigh and measure them.”

In the past they’d dealt with one baby at a time. This process, she had to admit, was faster and more efficient, over before the babies were fully awake and notations were made in their charts. Then came the part where things usually deteriorated even more. Dr. Clifton warmed the cold metal stethoscope between his hands before placing it on each small chest and back.

Dawn always did her best to be a health care professional, emphasis on professional. So when the sight of the doctor’s big hands handling each infant with such capable gentleness made her heart skip a beat, it was cause for alarm. On top of that, he smelled amazing—some spicy scent mixed with his particular brand of masculinity. All that and he was gorgeous. Darn it. Why couldn’t he look like a hobbit?

After examining the last baby he straightened and smiled at each of them. “Henry, Jared and Kate are perfectly healthy.”

“Good to hear.” Jamie seemed to relax a little.

“I’m sure when they were born someone explained to you that preemies begin life just a little behind the curve compared to full-term babies. But most children born early catch up and reach normal size for their age in a year or two.”

“They did tell me,” Jamie said.

“But right now we’re dealing with their adjusted age as opposed to gestational age, which would be how long they were in the womb. They’re almost six months old, but because they were eight weeks early, their adjusted age means they have the physical development of a four-month-old.”

There was the barest hint of panic in the single father’s eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. The only reason I mention it is that a flu shot is recommended for infants at six months old.”

Clifton glanced at her, obviously remembering their friendly, almost flirty flu conversation. If she’d known then that he was the new doctor, she wouldn’t have given him a chance to be charming. And it was annoying to admit that she had been charmed by his lack of smoothness. Refreshing. But she’d learned the hard way not to trust new doctors.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Jamie said.

“For these three,” Clifton continued, “we need to wait another couple of months until their growth and development catch up. It’s not a big deal.”

“Whatever you say, Doc.”

“Something else you should be aware of...” The doctor hesitated a moment, obviously thinking about what he was going to say. “Sometimes with preemies, the lungs aren’t fully developed and a virus can be problematic. There’s a medication that can protect them from RSV—”