Praise for Lynne Marshall

‘Heartfelt emotion that will bring you to the point of tears, for those who love a second-chance romance written with exquisite detail.’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews on NYC Angels: Making the Surgeon Smile

‘Lynne Marshall contributes a rewarding story to the NYC Angels series, and her gifted talent repeatedly shines. Making the Surgeon Smile is an outstanding romance with genuine emotions and passionate desires.’

—CataRomance

COWBOYS, DOCTORS… DADDIES!

The Montgomery brothers—from bachelors to dads!

Trevor and Cole Montgomery are the best-looking bachelors in Cattleman Bluff—not to mention the doctors everyone wants to see!

More than one woman has tried to persuade these men to say ‘I do’, but no one’s succeeded… Until two women move to Cattleman Bluff and turn the lives of these hot docs upside down!

Because it’s not just the women Trevor and Cole are going to fall in love with—it’s their adorable children too…

Don’t miss this delightful new duet from Lynne Marshall:

Hot-Shot Doc, Secret Dad

and

Father for Her Newborn Baby

Available now!

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Cattleman Bluff, Wyoming!

When I first mentioned to my editor that I’d like to write about cowboy doctors, to be honest I expected a giggle. Instead I found support and enthusiasm for Trevor and Cole, the Montgomery brothers of Wyoming.

In Book One, Hot-Shot Doc, Secret Dad, Trevor literally gets the surprise of his life. Little does he know that the emphasis will be on ‘family’ when he hires Julie Sterling, a nurse practitioner returning to her hometown after being away for thirteen years. Funny how life has a way of sometimes putting us exactly where we belong…

A freak accident introduced Cole to medicine. He’s the hero in Book Two, Father for Her Newborn Baby. When Cole has to step down from his highly respected position as a cardiology specialist and return to do country medicine for a while he’s paired with Lizzie Silva, a ‘rough around the edges’ doctor from the streets of Boston. She comes with extra baggage… in the way of a tiny baby! Can things get any more complicated?

I’m proud to mention that this story is my twentieth book for Harlequin Mills & Boon®. I was thrilled to write two stories set in the gorgeous state of Wyoming, a place I love and can’t wait to visit again. Plus, I got to write about not one but two weddings! I hope you enjoy the Cowboys, Doctors… Daddies duet as much as I enjoyed writing Trevor, Julie, Cole and Lizzie’s stories.

Happy trails!

Lynne

www.lynnemarshall.com

‘Friend’ Lynne Marshall on Facebook to keep up with her daily shenanigans.

LYNNE MARSHALL used to worry that she had a serious problem with daydreaming—then she discovered she was supposed to write those stories! A late bloomer, Lynne came to fiction writing after her children were nearly grown. Now she battles the empty nest by writing stories which always include a romance, sometimes medicine, a dose of mirth, or both, but always stories from her heart. She is a Southern California native, a woman of faith, a dog-lover and a curious traveller.

Father for Her Newborn Baby
Lynne Marshall

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To John-Philip and Kaitlyn for helping me see magic where a gnarly oak tree stood on that ranch.

Your wedding inspired me to write a gorgeous scene for my characters.

And to granddaughter Thea for being the inspiration for Flora.

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Lynne Marshall

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

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

Copyright

PROLOGUE

LIZZIE SILVA PUMPED the air. “Yes!”

I’ve got a job. Thank you, world! She glanced at Flora, nestled in her arm having just finished nursing, and then went completely still, afraid the sudden movement might set the baby off again. Maybe it had been the turmoil of her pregnancy, and stress and medical school had certainly taken a toll, but Flora had been born crying and had rarely stopped since. Or maybe it was because Flora sensed Lizzie didn’t have a clue about being a mother. Her heart squeezed as it always did when she thought about that. But wouldn’t things be better now?

She held her breath and lifted Flora to her shoulder and patted her back. “We’re going to have our first adventure together,” she cooed as Flora burped. “Good girl.” As if the delivery and first three months of her daughter’s life hadn’t been adventure enough already.

She’d just ended a phone call with her favorite professor from medical school, the man who’d become a surrogate father, probably out of pity, or guilt, but nevertheless. Even now, since she’d broken up with his son, he was looking out for her and his granddaughter.

“We’re moving to Wyoming. Can you imagine?” She smiled and rubbed her cheek against her baby’s fuzzy head. So far, so good; Flora was sleeping. At last!

Never in her life had she felt such love. This precious little child would know how to trust because Lizzie promised with all of her heart never to let her down. Ever since Flora had been born, she’d dreamed of getting her out of the city, of giving her a better start than she’d had. Now this job opportunity had come out of nowhere, as if answering her prayer, and deep down she believed better things would follow if she said yes.

She’d walked off her last temporary job at the Boston clinic dealing with drug addicts. Especially when she’d had to counsel the meth head who was pregnant. It’d hit too close to home because of her own mother. Add in her new-parent stress and little sleep and she’d quit that very afternoon.

Flora suffered with colic and kept her up most nights, and Lizzie was always tired, but she’d never leave her daughter. She knew how it felt to be left behind as a baby by her mother, and ten years later by her grandmother, even though the dear woman couldn’t control the stroke that had killed her. She knew the constant disappointment as foster home after foster home had let her go. Until she was fifteen and met Janie. Thank God for Janie, yet even she’d let her down. Why did people choose to keep cancer a secret? She would have dropped everything to be by her side. But then maybe that was what Janie had been afraid of. The woman had been intent on helping Lizzie get a hand up in life.

If it weren’t for Janie Tuttle she’d never be a new graduate doctor, licensed and all. She never would have reached for the stars with a dream of going to college.

She cuddled Flora closer as the baby finally settled into deep sleep. She’d been at her wit’s end all evening, as usual, not knowing what she was doing wrong, or why her baby cried so much. Not to mention worrying about how she’d support the two of them. She’d finally calmed Flora by nursing her again, then the cell phone had buzzed, and, as she’d often found herself doing at any little noise, she’d held her breath waiting for her daughter to start crying again. But this time she hadn’t. Then the new temporary job offer had come. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. Maybe this was a good omen?

No matter how much of a challenge this little one was, she loved how her child smelled and felt, and how she breathed unevenly. Basically, she loved everything about her, even when she was inconsolable with colic. Could the colic somehow be her fault? Mother’s love cut to the center of her most sacred feelings. Poor kid got stuck with her. Tears welled in her eyes. “I’ll never let you down, sweetheart. I promise. Never,” she whispered, shaking. There was no way she’d ever be able to live up to that promise, since she basically didn’t know what she was doing as a mother. Yet she hoped her unstoppable love would get through to her daughter.

Fear shuddered through her for her daughter’s sake, as she worried that life might prove her wrong. This time she blamed it on postpartum hormones rather than her mounting insecurity as a parent. She had to face the fact she was a mess, a total wreck.

All the street smarts in the world couldn’t make up for not having a clue how to be a mother, and the tough facade clearly didn’t work with parenting.

She’d been anything but a skilled mother so far, feeling nothing short of a feeding machine, completely out of her depth. Due to Flora’s colic, she functioned on minimal sleep; most days she felt like some kind of half monster, half human thing slogging through the hours. But so far they’d both survived. Somehow.

Becoming a mother had been a shock. Especially without backup. Dave Rivers had been another in a long list of disappointments, turning out to be nothing more than a biological father. And the most recent disappointment, not getting a residency at any of the hospitals where she’d applied, was further proof she was a screw-up. Then walking off the only job she could find…

She gingerly laid Flora in her cradle, held her breath again and watched the baby settle into deeper sleep. Whew. Lizzie sat on her own bed in the single-room apartment she’d rented all through medical school, trying her best not to make a single sound.

Panic had riddled her when she’d gotten the same rejection five different times. And she hadn’t exactly been able to hit the pavement looking for work when she’d been about to pop with a baby on board, so she’d taken whatever she could get—the free clinic. She’d never felt more helpless in her adult life, but she’d gone into labor and become a mother, and now three months later was still trying to get her life back on track.

Lying back on her pillow, she willed the negative thoughts from her mind, choosing to take the opportunity to rest while Flora slept. She had a chance to start afresh, to give her baby an opportunity she’d never had. Dr. Rivers had promised the small medical clinic could accommodate her every need. She needed the job and believed it could be the start of a new life for her and her daughter. She needed that new start. Please, please, make it so.

Anxiety grabbed hold again. There was so much to do before Saturday when she’d board a plane for Wyoming and begin their new start.

Thank you, Dr. Rivers, for believing in me. And for helping these last few months.

She had a job.

Yes!

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS COLE MONTGOMERY’S turn to step up for the family. He’d been absent far too long. While his brother, Trevor, was away he needed to oversee the ranch and help his father, the man he’d avoided most of his adult life. And because Cole was a doctor, he’d promised to keep the Cattleman Bluff Medical Clinic running while Trevor took a well-deserved honeymoon and vacation. At his sides, his fingers twitched. To be honest, he didn’t know if he had what it took to take the reins at home, or the patience to deal with his father.

He stood off to the side of the wedding party, feeling more of a bystander than a part of the family. It was his younger brother, Trevor’s turn to shine today, being the first of the brothers to marry. Plus, Trevor had a readymade family with his beautiful new wife, Julie, originally a Cattleman Bluff girl, and the son Trevor never knew about until four months ago, James. At thirteen, the boy looked ecstatic, practically bouncing out of his skin, as he watched his parents finally take their vows.

What must it be like to get married and already have a family to look out for? If anyone could handle it, Trevor could, but the thought of raising kids sent a shudder from the tip of Cole’s spine all the way down to his toes. Especially after his recent and total failure with Victoria and her five-year-old son, Eddie. Yeah, he’d pretty much proved his inability to be a boyfriend and potential father with that year-and-a-half dating nightmare.

Trevor and Julie’s ceremony was intimate with only a handful of family and friends. They’d opted to have it in the silo portion of the ranch, the circular part smack in the middle of the house Dad had built around it. The silo had been their mother’s art studio many years ago. Skylights made for perfect, almost magical lighting showering over his brother and the new bride, and seemed like a posthumous blessing from their mother who’d died several years ago. Cole knew she would have loved every moment of this simple yet ideal ceremony. There’d been a reason she’d chosen this section of the house to paint her pictures.

He took a moment to remember his mother, the peacemaker. She’d had to work extra hard when Cole was a teenager, since he and his father seemed to butt heads on every little detail in life. His dad wanted to train him to take over the ranch when the time came, and all Cole had wanted to do was show off at junior rodeos. After the accident, when his father pushed him to spend weeknights learning the ins and outs of cattle ranching, Cole had signed up for the high-school academic decathlon, which assured he wouldn’t have an extra minute to learn anything from his father. And that earned him the nickname of Wonder Boy, said with contempt not pride by his father.

When Cole eventually announced he wanted to be a doctor, not a cowboy, well, Tiberius hadn’t been able to hide the disappointment. What father in his right mind got upset when his son wanted to go into medicine?

A “cantankerous old cowboy first, father second” kind.

Cole wished his mother were here so he could hug her and tell her how much he’d always loved her. But rather than slide into a sentimental slump, he shifted his gaze from the overhead skylights back to the bride.

Julie Sterling, soon-to-be Montgomery, looked stunning in an off-white cocktail-length dress, her unruly brown hair piled high on her head, dotted with baby’s breath and tiny yellow daisies, making her big eyes look nothing short of huge. He couldn’t help but notice she had great legs, too—Trevor’s favorite part of female anatomy. And by the way she looked at his brother, that wide stare was meant only for him. A good thing.

Cole wondered what that might be like—had a woman ever only had eyes for him? It seemed there was always a link to his accomplishments, or a secret wish for what he could offer, and when those things got stripped away, the love light fizzled out. That was how it had worked with Victoria when he’d never gotten around to proposing. He glanced at his lucky-dog brother.

Trev looked nothing short of dignified in his Western tux and new boots, and Cole hadn’t exactly held up his end of the bargain if he was supposed to dress in kind. Instead, he’d opted for one of his tailor-made city suits, the type he wore for fund-raisers or exclusive speeches, of which, in his new role as cardiac educator, there were many.

He continued to study his brother, a refined version of himself. Where Cole had inherited his father’s rugged, rangy looks, Trevor had the luck of their mother’s delicate features blended in with the coarse Montgomery genes. Mom’s DNA might have cut a couple inches off Trevor’s height, making Cole a truly “big” brother, but the good looks and confidence his little brother possessed had sure worked wonders in life, and especially with the ladies. Always had. Being six years older than Trevor, Cole had never felt particularly close to the kid, even though his brother had always looked adoringly up to him. Was it any wonder they’d both become doctors? Yeah, Dad sure loved that, too. He ran his hand over his short hair, noting Trevor had let his grow out a bit more, maybe at Julie’s request? Who knew the influence a woman could have over a man.

He sure didn’t. None of his relationships had ever come close to love or commitment. He blamed it on his job. His single-minded quest to improve cardiology, to take mitral-valve replacements to a new level. His success. His laziness? Or maybe it went all the way back to being fifteen, when Hailey Brimley, the first girl he’d ever loved—and the girl he’d literally broken his neck for—had taken one look at him all banged up with rods sticking out of his skull and walked out of the hospital never to come back. He’d risked everything for young love and she hadn’t been able to get past how he’d looked in that damned halo brace. Yeah, there was that link to accomplishment, or lack of, even back then. Whatever the reason, at forty, he was a single guy with zero prospects for true love, and watching his brother get married forced him to think about his own circumstances. Well, guess what, that was how he liked it. Single. Unattached. Sorry, Victoria, but that’s the truth. Busy with his career. He cleared his throat and straightened the knot of his silk necktie. At least that was his side of the story and he was sticking with it.

His father, Tiberius, stood to the right of Cole as the couple took their vows. With one hand on the carved wooden walking stick—since he’d chucked his clunky quad cane for the ceremony—his father was decked out in his finest Wyoming duds, including his prized Stetson, which he’d removed and held with his free hand for the duration of the ceremony. Cole noticed something he hadn’t seen in years: a contented smile on his father’s face. He’d personally stopped seeing that look when he’d shown off for a girl at the high school rodeo and had broken his neck. Twenty-five years ago. Or maybe it was when he’d flat out told his old man he never wanted to be a stinkin’ cattle rancher. But today was a day of celebration, and Cole didn’t want to focus on the past. So he shifted his gaze once again, and looked to the future.

James, Julie’s son, grinned as if he knew the world’s biggest secret and was about to share it. Personally, the thought of raising a teenager, or any kid, in today’s world made Cole shiver inside, but since the boy’s happiness was palpable and proved to be contagious he joined in and smiled. Why not? He was at a wedding. His brother’s wedding.

The couple pledged their unending love and kissed, and soon the crowd of twenty broke out in a cheer. Cole applauded and gave his nearly forgotten rodeo whistle, adding to the noise reverberating off the circular silo walls.

Though it was a special day for Trevor and Julie, Cole felt somehow uninvolved, holding back to himself. Truth was he didn’t have a clue what to expect filling in at the Cattleman Bluff Medical Clinic, which, thanks to his brother’s extended honeymoon and family-bonding trip, would take up almost his entire summer. Cole had taken a leave of absence to accommodate their trip. As he’d known in his gut, it was time to step up for the family.

The couple had waited until the school semester ended for James before they got married, thus the mid-June wedding. They planned a weeklong honeymoon in Montreal while James went back to LA with his great-aunt Janet. The week after that they’d go out to LA to pick up James and to take in some tourist sights, then they’d all come home and head off on a monthlong road trip around Wyoming, camping, hiking, fishing, horseback riding, anything they felt like doing, but most of all bonding. That was the word Trevor had used over and over while telling Cole his plans. He didn’t know the whole story since he and his brother had hardly had a minute together before the wedding, but Trevor and his son sure had a lot of lost time to make up for.

The wedding party had moved on to the second champagne toast, and everyone suddenly looked towards Cole. He hadn’t given a single notion to what he should say, so he thought quickly. “I want to wish the bride and groom as much happiness as our own dad and mother had in their marriage. Love doesn’t run any deeper than that. Cheers!”

Cole caught a glimpse of his father’s tearing eyes as the man raised his glass and toasted new love along with everyone else, while most likely remembering the loss of his own. His dad had fallen apart when Mom died from cancer. His life had literally stopped, and, though he’d tried to pick up the pieces over the past several years, his health had never been the same. That kind of love scared the hell out of Cole. Was that what Trevor was setting himself up for, too? Another good reason for Cole to stick with his current life trajectory.

Bittersweet moments clogged his throat, and he didn’t have a clue why that tended to happen much more often when back home. He didn’t like it—those deep feelings, the kind that ripped at a person’s heart. Maybe that was why he preferred his hundred-mile buffer zone, living out in Laramie half the time and in Baltimore the other, except whenever he was on the road, which seemed to be close to 80 percent of the time lately.

He took another drink of champagne. Staying put for two months in the house he’d grown up in, seeing the continuing disappointment and blame in his father’s milky, aging eyes, and sensing the lingering love from his mother would prove to be a challenge. How long before he and his father finally had it out?

The old man’s health was failing; he grew weaker by the year yet still insisted on running the ranch. Cole couldn’t very well blast him with accusations and force an apology, could he? Damn, he needed more champagne.

When everyone else was joining in with the celebration, laughing, cheering, making a racket, Cole slipped a little farther back from the crowd. Julie prepared to toss the bouquet, and once she turned her back and threw the flowers over her head, the dozen or so ladies in the group started to squeal. The young blonde from the medical clinic, Rita the receptionist, caught it and screamed with delight. Her glittering eyes flitted toward his, and he quickly looked away, deciding now was the perfect time to refill his glass with bubbly.

Briefly, while on his quest for the server, he engaged Jack, the ranch foreman, in conversation. He felt him out as to how the family business was holding up, assuring Jack he’d be as helpful as possible in Trevor’s absence. In fact, Cole looked forward to getting on a horse again. The rodeo had been his passion in life throughout his childhood and early teens. He’d made a name for himself on the junior circuit, riding bucking broncos, until…

“Incoming!” he heard Jack say.

Cole looked up in time to reach up and pluck a shiny white lace garter out of the air, rather than let it hit him in the face. What the—? He glanced up at his brother’s mischievous dark stare, a smile stretched from ear to ear. Was that a challenge?

“You’re next, Cole,” Trevor said, laughing, knowing full well the absurdity of the remark.

Playing along, only to be polite, Cole mock kissed the garter, then stuck it in his handkerchief pocket. “I’ll keep you posted, Trev, but don’t hold your breath.” He made a shrewd effort to avoid Rita’s coy gaze at all costs.

He got his refill of champagne and finished it with three large gulps, enjoying the floating-in-water feeling in his head.

When he was a kid, he used to think the sky in Wyoming was the limit, and anything was possible on any given day. Wasn’t that why they’d called him Wonder Boy? These days, not so much. Still smiling, since everyone seemed to continue to stare at him, he hoisted yet another glass in another toast. “Cheers!” he said as expected, waggling his brows, as any lucky guy who’d just caught the garter on a glorious wedding day should. Then he took one more drink of champagne, letting that pleasant buffer of booze make everything fuzzy around the edges, and followed the crowd outside for the reception and lunch.

Tomorrow he’d saddle up and ride the range with Jack. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d ridden the entire Circle M Ranch or seen the thousands of head of pure English-bred steer roaming the grasslands, and, being honest, he’d missed it. Of course, he’d need a refresher course on the challenges of raising grass-finished cattle for meat. His father’s specialty. Genetics was the key, his old man had always said, and, being a scientist, Cole could easily wrap his brain around that. But all the finer details of animal husbandry he’d leave to Jack.

As for right now, he couldn’t very well zone out on the rest of his brother’s wedding party, so he stood, straightened his tie and headed toward Trevor’s table to tell him not to worry about a thing while he was on his honeymoon. His mother would want it that way.

“Just the man I need to talk to,” Trevor said, eyes brightening as Cole approached his table.

“I thought you’d already told me everything I need to know.” Cole had a sudden sinking feeling.

“I lined up some extra help for you at the clinic while I’m gone.”

Cole wasn’t about to complain about that. “Thanks. Someone from Cattleman Bluff?”

“Boston.”

“What?”

“It’s a complicated story, but, medically speaking, the doctor is qualified. Lawrence Rivers highly recommended her.”

Larry Rivers was a respected professor who’d mentored Trevor during medical school, and he’d become a trusted colleague for Cole when he’d made the decision to learn transcatheter heart-valve replacement. “But?” Cole’s instincts waved yellow flags, waiting for Trevor to come clean with the rest of the story.

“The problem is, she only applied for internal medicine residencies at the top five most competitive hospitals in the country, so she didn’t get a single spot.”

“She’s fresh out of medical school? And that’s supposed to be a help, how?”

“You know Larry wouldn’t recommend her if he didn’t believe in her.”

“Believing in and actually being competent are two different things.” Ah, hell, Cole didn’t want to get in an argument with his brother at his wedding. Mom wouldn’t like that. He’d back off for now.

“She might be a little rough around the edges.”

Are you kidding me? “You’re joking, right? Is this some sort of weird wedding joke?”

“Larry said she’s a tough Boston girl, from the wrong side of the Charles River. She can handle anything.”

“So Larry’s playing both of us, right?”

Trevor bit his lower lip and grimaced. “She needed a job. I said she could have it. You’ll need help at that clinic, trust me.”

“And I want all the help I can get, but—”

“Come on, Trevor,” Julie said, a huge smile on her face, a warning gaze in her eyes. “It’s time to change clothes for the send-off. The limo is going to be here in twenty minutes.”

Trevor lifted his brows, cast a quick glance at Cole, then put his arm around his new wife.

“What’s this doctor’s name?”

“Elisabete Silva.”

Great, he’d be working with a wet-behind-the-ears doctor who probably thought she knew it all. Didn’t he think the same thing when he’d first graduated from medical school?

Trevor was the most conscientious man Cole knew, and wouldn’t set him up for failure. Instead of acting like his father, blowing a gasket before getting the whole story, he’d take his mother’s approach. He’d reserve his opinion until he’d met the new doctor at the clinic himself, but he suddenly had a kink in his gut that had nothing to do with the baked chicken served at the wedding-reception dinner.

Trevor started to walk off with Julie, but turned back. “Oh, one more thing. The doctor will be living here at the ranch. Dad said it’s okay.”

What in the hell was going on?

Trev looked as if he wanted to say something else, but Julie snagged him firmly by the elbow and led him off. Cole stood and watched as they headed off to change clothes while those waving yellow flags in his head started turning red.

Ten minutes after tossing rice and grinning along with everyone else, then watching the new couple drive off in the fully decorated “Just Married” limo, Cole saw a town car heading up the long road. The Circle M Ranch wasn’t exactly on the main highway—anyone coming out this way generally had a reason.

He looked on with interest from the yard as the car came to a stop in front of the house and Jack, his father’s ranch foreman, along with the family cook, Gretchen, rushed toward it.

“Cole, come and dance with me.” Rita, the attractive blonde medical-clinic receptionist, linked her arm through his, her still-lingering potent perfume overpowering his nostrils. “It’s tradition for the bouquet and garter catchers to have a dance together.”

First he’d ever heard of that tradition. Cole didn’t want to come off as impolite at his brother’s wedding reception—his mother would be disappointed—especially since he’d be working with Rita all summer, so he let her lead him to the dance floor, losing sight of the limousine and the house as he did.

CHAPTER TWO

THE LAST OF the wedding guests had finally left. It was getting dark, and Cole had handed the mantle to the lead of the cleanup crew. He’d done his brotherly duty for Trevor’s wedding, and looked forward to getting out of his suit and unwinding with a good novel before calling it a night.

He wandered toward the porch and the front door. Gretchen, the family cook, met him with an anxious look.

“Hello, Cole,” she said, trying to sound calm but not coming close.

“Hi. What’s up?” He remembered the limousine from earlier. “We have company?”

“Uh, yes.” She wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

“Is something wrong?” He stopped and waited for Gretchen to look up.

“Uh. No. I was just a little surprised, that’s all.” Still not looking at him, she turned toward the screen door.

“Surprised? About what?”

Tiberius appeared on the other side of the screen. “That she has a baby, that’s what.”

“Who has a baby?” His feet stuck to the porch floorboards.

“The doctor Trevor hired,” his father said with a lopsided grin.

“A baby?” What was going on? The new doctor was here already?

“You know, the little tykes in diapers, a baby.” His dad seemed to take great joy in rubbing in the news, though he looked tired beyond his years just then. It’d been a long few days preparing for the wedding; Cole would cut him some slack. “They cry a lot and need undivided attention?”

Cole sped up the last few steps to the front door, pulling out his cell phone on the way, ready to speed-dial his brother. “Trevor didn’t mention that.” In all honesty, Trevor hadn’t had the chance.

“Of course not, because you would have thrown a fit if he did,” Dad said, not splitting hairs, holding the door open for Gretchen and him to go inside.

“That’s not necessarily true. But it would have been nice to know.”

Before he could press dial, a tall and slender, dark-haired woman with vivid green eyes and ivory skin appeared in the entryway. She’d come from the east wing where she must have left her baggage, and had some sort of swaddling sling across her torso with a good-sized bulge buried inside.

“Hello,” she said, a natural rasp in her lower-than-usual female voice. “I’m Elisabete, but everybody calls me Lizzie.”

Out of the blue, Cole wondered how her laugh would sound. He guessed smoky and…

She reached out a thin hand with long delicate fingers, and, instead of dialing Trevor to curse him out, Cole pocketed the phone, took her hand and shook. Warmth emanated from both her grip and her wide gaze, which was truly stunning, and stole some of his thunder.

“I’m Cole. Nice to meet you. I’m a bit surprised by your… er… bundle there.” He nodded to the lump dangling snuggly from her middle.

She gave a fatigued smile and glanced down beneath fuller-than-usual dark brows at her baby. “My little Flora screamed the entire flight from Boston. I think she’s worn herself out. At one point I thought the flight attendant wanted to shove me out the door.” She lifted her gaze, tension dwelling in those lovely, though bewildered, eyes even as she tried to make light of her situation. “I’ll carry my load at the clinic, Dr. Montgomery. I promise.”

Had she read his mind? Only then did he think to let go of the comfort of her hand. Those deeply inquisitive eyes studied him, obviously hunting for a sign of his humanity.

“With an infant that will be a huge challenge. Are you sure you can handle the job?”

“I don’t know how much Dr. Rivers told you—”

“Dr. Rivers spoke to my brother, who left for his honeymoon today. I don’t have a clue if Trevor knew about the bambino part or not.” So much for his humanity.

“I’ve made some tea—why doesn’t everyone sit down and I’ll bring it?” Gretchen said, having never been able to handle tension, even though, having worked for years for the Montgomery family, she should have gotten used to it by now.

“Yes, why don’t we?” Tiberius said, an amused smirk on his face. He led the way to the living room.

Cole gestured for Lizzie to follow, noting her jeans-clad long legs, narrow hips and flip-flop-covered feet, thinking how impractical the footwear was for a ranch. But there was something else he noticed beyond her travel-weary appearance, and besides the single long, thick braid down her back: it was the confidence with which she walked. The way she held her head high even under his less-than-gracious welcome. This one was a fighter. Maybe she had to be.

“What kind of name is Silva?” Tiberius asked just before he sat in his favorite overstuffed chair.

“It’s Portuguese.”

Cole wasn’t exactly sure what he’d signed on for taking over his brother’s practice, but, with the arrival of Lizzie sporting a baby, that task had suddenly gotten a hell of a lot more challenging.

While Gretchen served tea in the living room, Cole asked Lizzie about medical school, but got distracted with the dozens of other questions flying through his head.

“And after spending a month in the emergency department, I knew for a fact I didn’t have what it takes to work under that kind of pressure. That place made me wicked crazy,” she said without seeming to take a breath. “Internal medicine seemed the right fit for me. It’s kind of like taking a good mystery—the patient’s symptoms—and step-by-step solving the case by diagnosing and treating them properly. Makes me feel like a medical sleuth, kind of like that TV show, House, you know? So I’m really looking forward to working in your clinic, Dr. Montgomery.”

Just what he needed, his own House. Didn’t she understand that guy would have lost his medical license a hundred different times because of his antics? Cole definitely had his work cut out for him training a new, dreamy-eyed doctor.

Plus, she spoke rapid-fire, with a thick Bostonian accent, and to be honest he often had trouble following her. Depahtmint. Pressha. Lookin’ farwid. But it was kind of amusing at the same time. He suppressed a smile as she talked on and on, probably nervous and wanting to make a good first impression. Meanwhile, he grasped for ways to make this situation work. New doctor. New mother. New clinic. And he’d thought he was out of his depth taking over the clinic before!

For a new mother, she certainly seemed to have a lot of energy, or maybe she was just a hyper type. He hoped she wouldn’t talk his ear off all the time because that would get old fast. Gee, thanks for sticking me with your sight-unseen doctor, Trev, old buddy.

She continued on with her story, and Cole hoped she’d get around to mentioning the baby, but she conveniently skipped over that part. Instead she talked about experiences in medicine and kept assuring him she’d carry her load at the clinic, then stopped midsentence when her eyes settled on Tiberius, who still had an amused smirk on his face.

“Is that how you always smile?” she asked bluntly.

Granted, it was an odd lopsided smile, but Cole figured it was typical of Dad to be a smart aleck over the mixed-up circumstances Cole had found himself in. Then he looked closer. She was right: something was off.

Lizzie popped up from the chair and walked straight to his father. “Smile again,” she said. “Hmm. Give me your hands. Squeeze.” She glanced over her shoulder at Cole, her full arched brows raised, then quickly back to Tiberius. “Are you feeling numbness or tingling on either side?” Tiberius looked confused. “Cole, he’s noticeably weaker on the right. Is this always the case?”

Cole jumped up and strode toward his father and Lizzie. “No.”

“Raise your arms for me, Mr. Montgomery.” The right arm went only half as high as the other. “Can you say ‘the sky is blue’?”

It came out slurred and jumbled. “Sy… boo.”

“I’ll call 911.” Cole dug for the phone in his pocket and made the call.

“He seemed to walk in here just fine, but then I noticed his droopy smile.” Lizzie went down on her knees to look Tiberius in the eyes. “Is your vision blurry?”

He made a tiny shake of his head.

“He needs thrombolytics ASAP. Time is brain,” she said, slipping into doctor mode, stating the obvious door-to-IV necessity for early treatment. “We’ve got a three-hour window.”

Cole filled in the emergency operator. “We need a stroke team ready to go,” he said when he’d finished. She assured him an ambulance would be on the way with estimated time of arrival twenty minutes. The nearest hospital was in Laramie. He did the math and knew time was of the essence if they wanted the best results with his father’s evolving stroke. Panic ripped through him at the thought of losing his dad. He went to him and squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll get the help you need, Dad.”

Tiberius glanced up, seeming a bit disoriented. Trevor’s wedding had taken more of a toll than Cole had realized.

“We should give him an aspirin right now,” Lizzie said.

“He’s already on daily aspirin.”

“Let’s give him another. Research shows the benefits outweigh the risk of causing bleeding in the brain.”

Cole also knew this was an ongoing debate among clinicians. Some researchers said early aspirin was beneficial, others said it could prove risky. The key was whether a clot or a burst vessel was the cause of his father’s stroke, and only a CT scan could prove that. Yet, the overemphasis of TPA, tissue plasminogen activator, as the only treatment could also cause bleeding in the brain. He wasn’t about to take up that debate now with Lizzie when his father was in the middle of a stroke.

“Out of…” Tiberius mumbled.

What? “You’re out of something?” Cole repeated what he thought his father meant.

“Asp.” He looked and sounded like someone who’d just had Novocain injections at the dentist.

His father had a history of TIAs, transient ischemic attacks, and that was caused by blockage. Why hadn’t he gotten a new bottle of aspirin immediately? Cole wanted to wring his dad’s neck, but quickly remembered there’d been a lot of activity going on over the past week with wedding plans and parties and Cole moving back home. Today’s wedding had been an all-day affair. He’d cut his father some slack, but still wondered if this TIA could have been prevented, and whether or not it would turn into a full-blown cerebrovascular accident this time around. The thought sent a shard of fear deep into his chest.

“Let’s do it, then,” Cole said, jogging to the closest medicine cabinet in the hall bathroom. “There isn’t any here,” he called out. Frustration blended with panic.

“I’ve got some in the kitchen,” Gretchen said, close on his heels. “You should have told me you were out, Monty,” she called over her shoulder.

When they returned, Lizzie had remained with Tiberius, reassuring him and distracting him by showing her newborn to him. She cooed over her baby and smiled up at the man. That lopsided smile returned, and his eyes looked calmer and more focused since gazing at the sleeping child.

“Take this, Dad.” Cole gave him the aspirin. “Can you swallow okay?” He tested his dad with a tiny sip from the cup of forgotten tea on the table next to his chair. He seemed to swallow okay, so Cole gave it to him. If this was a true TIA, his symptoms would go away within ten to twenty minutes. If it was a CVA, there was no telling how long or how much worse it could get. By Cole’s count it had already been over ten minutes since Lizzie had astutely noticed his father’s quirky grin, and as of now the symptoms remained unchanged. A foreboding shadow settled around Cole’s vision; worry kicked up the fear he’d tried to suppress. He wasn’t ready to lose his dad. Nowhere near.

“I’m calling the Laramie ER, giving them a preliminary report. I already told them to have the stroke team ready to go the second Dad arrives.”

“Do you have a blood-pressure monitor in the house?” Lizzie asked as he dialed his cell phone.

It’d been so long since Cole had lived here, he didn’t rightly know.

“There’s one in Monty’s bedroom,” Gretchen said, setting off in that direction of the house.

Cole studied his father, then looked at the beautiful baby with a full head of dark hair, just like her mother. The child squirmed and stretched while still deeply asleep, and that simple marvel kept that odd smile on his father’s face. Whatever helped or distracted him. The man must be scared as hell of having another stroke. He prayed their actions would be enough for now.

Gretchen produced the portable blood-pressure cuff while Cole gave his report to the ER. He watched as Lizzie carefully placed her baby, who was obviously still exhausted from the big airplane trip, across Tiberius’s lap, then she went right to work setting up and checking the numbers. “Well, we can’t blame his blood pressure for this CVA.” At one hundred and thirty over eighty-five it wasn’t greatly elevated.

Cole repeated the BP to the doctor on the phone. He knew that eighty percent of all strokes were ischemic, caused by a blockage of blood flow. The fact that his father had kept his blood pressure under control since his first TIA a couple of years ago, plus his BP wasn’t exceptionally high right now, meant the odds of a hemorrhagic stroke were much less. But you never knew, he couldn’t be too cautious and the man belonged in the hospital for treatment and best outcome. And just before he finished the call, there was the sweet sound of a distant ambulance siren.

“Our ride’s here,” he said to the doctor on the other end, then gave his dad a reassuring smile. “ETA an hour and ten.” That left a one- to two-hour window to get his father on thrombolytic therapy for best chance of full recovery. He hoped it would be enough.

CHAPTER THREE

WELL AFTER MIDNIGHT, Lizzie struggled with her colicky baby. These fits always seemed to happen at night. The child had been so intent on crying she couldn’t calm down enough to nurse. At the end of her tether, Lizzie walked the floor of the cathedral-ceilinged living room, with the spiral staircase winding up to a huge loft library at the back.

She had no business being a mother. Didn’t this prove it? She didn’t know what she was doing, and poor Flora sensed it. The baby bore the brunt of her overworked and undertrained parent. She wanted to cry right along with her child, but held it in, afraid if she let that gate open she’d never regain control.

She’d put on quite a show that afternoon, walking into a strange house with her baby, acting as if she were the most confident girl in the world. Oh, yeah, move out of state? Take a temporary job? Piece of cake. How long before Cole Montgomery sees through me?

Headlights flashed across the arched, church-sized window. Oh, great, just what she needed—now Cole would know what a failure she was as a mother, too. She thought about running off to her room set away from the rest of the house. Maybe he wouldn’t hear Flora’s wails there. But her curiosity about Tiberius overpowered her desire to run and hide—was saving face really that important?—so she stayed put. Her one hope being Cole wouldn’t demand she shut Flora up because if he did, she might have to quit the job before she even started.

She took a deep breath and switched her little one to the other arm and bounced her. Maybe Flora had worn herself out, because she shifted from scream mode to fussy and generally unhappy—an improvement. But could Lizzie blame her for having colic? The poor kid was stuck with her, clueless and unnatural, as a mother.

This move to Wyoming was supposed to be the first step in a better life for both of them, yet Flora’s distress seemed to prove otherwise. Why did she have to doubt herself at every turn since becoming a mother? She couldn’t very well ask her own mother for help.

A key turned the lock in the front door, and from the darkened room Lizzie saw Cole enter. His head immediately turned to the sounds of the baby’s cries.

“Hi,” she said, walking toward him, glad she’d thrown a long sweater over her funky flannel pajama pants and overstretched tank top. It was too late to try to do anything with her hair, though.

He nodded, looking tired and grim when he turned on the light. He watched her a few moments as they both adjusted to the sudden brightness.

“How’s your dad?” She shifted Flora to her shoulder and rubbed her back as she continued to fuss loudly and squirm in her arms.

“He’s stable. The CT scan showed blockage without bleeding, so that’s good. They put him on ATP well within the window for best results. Only time will tell.”

She thought about the news. It was promising, and that was all they could hope for tonight. “So the CVA hasn’t evolved?”

“You still can’t understand him when he tries to talk, but the right-sided weakness seems less. At least that’s something.” Cole threw his keys in a ceramic bowl on the long entry hall table, the sound startling Flora and the fussing turned to crying. “Oh, sorry.” He grimaced.

“It’s not you. We’ve been up for a couple hours. I keep hoping she’ll wear herself out enough so I can nurse her.” God, she wanted to cry, that familiar helpless feeling of not being able to comfort her daughter ripping at her heart.

His brows pulled downward. “You need your sleep just as much as she does.” Surprising her, he took off his jacket, laid it over the back of a chair and reached for Flora. “Maybe a change in scenery will help. Give her to me.” He took her squirming baby, now looking amazingly tiny in his big hands and arms. “Let’s go in the kitchen, and have some herbal tea or something. It’ll do us both good.”

He led the way—her wriggling, loudly protesting baby leaving him unfazed—and, though feeling embarrassed about her appearance, she followed. Fortunately the kitchen light had a dimmer, so Cole left it at half the usual brightness. That worked for Lizzie. The less he saw of her bed hair and unwashed face, the better.

“I’ll put the water on,” she said, noticing that Flora still fussed but had quieted down a little. “Where do you keep the tea?” In a kitchen the size of her entire apartment back in Boston, she didn’t have a clue where to begin to look.

“The pantry,” he whispered, and pointed to the corner, Flora in the crook of his elbow as he unconsciously rocked the fidgety baby. “Second shelf. I like the Sweet Dreams brand, but there’s some chamomile, too, somewhere, I think.”

It tickled her to think of big ol’ Cole Montgomery liking herbal tea and holding babies. Even though he gazed at Flora as if she were an alien from Planet X. After she got the tea she was grateful the cabinets had glass doors, so at least she knew where to find the cups.

Behind her, he chuckled softly. “I think she’s hungry—she keeps trying to suckle my neck.”

“Oh!” Maybe she should stop everything and nurse that child since that seemed to be her message.

“You have a bottle or something?”

“I’m nursing. Why don’t you give her to me?”

He gently handed Flora back to Lizzie, and their gazes caught and held briefly. He seemed to have questions in his, and she didn’t want to begin guessing what he wondered. Most likely something along the lines of—what in the hell are you doing here?

Good question. Would he believe her answer—making a better life for my daughter?

Flora had settled down and showed all the signs of finally being ready to nurse. “If you don’t mind watching the kettle, I’ll take her back to the living room. I’m already in love with your dad’s favorite chair.”

He blinked his reassurance. “I’ll bring the tea when it’s ready.”

Five minutes later, with Flora finally nursing contentedly, Lizzie had thrown her sweater over her chest for privacy, and Cole brought two teacups to the living room, lit only by the light of the moon.

“Mind if I join you?” he whispered.

She smiled up at him as he put her cup on the table nearest her free hand. She’d honestly expected him to use a mug, but he sat across from her and sipped his tea as if it was second nature. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say to him because her main thought was, Thank goodness Flora quit crying and is nursing. Now maybe she could breathe. At least she knew how to do something good for her baby. Yet, hadn’t Cole calmed the child down? Maybe he had a kid of his own?

“How do you know how to quiet babies so well?”

“I didn’t know I did.” His surprised-bordering-on-shocked expression said it all. Pure luck, the kind Flora wished she had more of. “I just saw you struggling and you looked like you needed some help.” And wasn’t that an understatement?

Her first sip of hot tea soothed her strained throat. It never ceased to amaze her how her entire body tensed when Flora was unhappy. She was surprised her milk let down so easily under the circumstances. “I thought maybe you had your own kids or something.”

He let go a big puff of air, a sound meant to show the absurdity of the comment. “No-o-o. No kids. No wife. Just me and cardiology. See, I understand the physiology of the heart perfectly—the emotional side of things, don’t have a clue.”

She lightly laughed. “I hear you on that one.” Cole had revealed a lot in that last sentence. Maybe they had something in common.

“So is that why you’re not married either?”

Sitting in the dark helped shadow her first reaction—pain. A year ago she would have bet her life on her and Dave getting married, but, after his wicked change in character when she’d told him she was pregnant, she was glad she wasn’t married to him. In fact, her life, or losing it, might have actually been part of the bet. The guy had gone ballistic with the news. He’d flipped out and grabbed her, shaking her violently, then shoved her against a wall, banging her head several times on the surface. You think you can trap me with a kid? Think again. She’d never seen him so crazed; the memory of his wild-eyed stare still sent shivers through her muscles.

She’d never felt more helpless in her life either and vowed that would never happen again. Fortunately, he’d stopped at roughing her up, hadn’t hit her or anything, just manhandled her to frighten her for messing with his plans. He’d given her one last shake and left. So much for true love. And so much for never feeling helpless again. It seemed since Flora had been born, helpless had become her middle name.

She reminded herself she’d come to Wyoming to change things. She wasn’t helpless. She had a job. “Her dad and I couldn’t work things out. He took off. I stayed pregnant.”

“How’d you manage to finish med school with a newborn?”

“Called in a lot of favors.” It wasn’t that she wanted to be abrupt, but, really, they didn’t have all night for her to explain that one. Maybe the guy deserved a bit more than her glib answer, though. “When you’re raised in foster care you learn to be resourceful. I’d helped a lot of students through the toughest modules, did one-on-one study sessions with a girl who probably would have failed the boards otherwise. You know, that kind of thing. They owed me.”

“Wait a second, back up.” He leaned forward. “You were raised in foster care?”

“After my grandmother died, yes.” So she wasn’t exactly being forthcoming. It wasn’t that she wanted to be secretive; she was just saving him the sob story. Did Cole really need to hear all of it?

“And what happened to your mother?”

“She went back to being a meth head after I was born.”

He shook his head and, since her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she could make out his sympathetic expression, brows pushed together, lips tight. Yeah, she’d had a hard life, he got it, no need to pound home the point. “And you rose above all of that and made it into medical school. That’s amazing.”

She pushed her head back onto the soft cushion of the high-backed chair, suddenly needing that extra comfort. Put that way, yeah, maybe she was amazing. “The only thing I had control of in my childhood was my school grades. I guess you could say it paid off. If you don’t count the fact that I wasn’t chosen for a single residency program I applied for.” She didn’t want to sound sorry for herself, but the discouraged sigh had already left her lips.

“Didn’t anyone counsel you on casting your net wide? From what I was told you only applied to the five most prestigious hospitals in the nation. No offense, but what were you thinking?”

“That I should reach for the stars.” She needed to shut him down, be blunt, because she’d gone over her blunder a million times already and it always came back to the same conclusion—there was nothing she could do about that now. And that was why she’d come to Wyoming, to make up for it. To start over. To give her baby a good start in life.

Her little scientific experiment had worked. She’d formed her hypothesis, tested it, and analyzing her data—sitting in silence, the dim light from the hallway making his shadow large and looming, mouth firmly shut—he wouldn’t and didn’t know what to do with the truth. Yep, she’d been right.

“So how are we going to work this out?” Cole’s deep voice cut through her thoughts, his rugged yet handsome face dappled in moonlight and shadows.

“You mean my working for you? Or my living here with a colicky baby?”

He nodded, his laser gaze, noticeable even in the dim light, nearly making her squirm. “Part A.”

Under the sweater, she shifted Flora to the other breast and waited until she latched on. “Well, while you were at the hospital I had a long talk with Gretchen. She seems to have an unfulfilled grandmotherly gene. She said she’d be happy to take care of Flora when I work.”

“Maybe you should just work part-time at first.”

She wanted to yell, Don’t you get it? I’m broke. I need the money! But she swallowed another sip of tea instead. “But you hired me to work full-time. I want to keep my side of the bargain.”

He went quiet again and studied his expensive brand-name shoes. The man oozed wealth. And good looks. “I’m glad to pay you the amount Trevor agreed on, but maybe at first you can come in half days or something.”

“You do realize that women only get six weeks’ maternity leave in the US and return to work all the time, right? I’m that single mother in med school who never missed an overnight shift, and my only support system was other med students. I graduated the same day as everyone else with my baby swaddled in a sling across my chest. People do what they’ve got to do, you know? Gretchen said she’s happy to help. Let me do what you hired me for, okay?”

Take that!

“That’s commendable. I’ll give you that.” He remained thoughtful, probably analyzing her plea, seeing right through her, figuring out how desperate she was. “I suspect Dad will be in the hospital at least a week, and then be sent to rehab after that. Once he comes home, though, Gretchen will have her hands full caring for him.”

“You’ve got a point, but by then I can find other child-care arrangements.” Keep positive even against the odds. You’ve got to.

He thought for a moment or two. “Reasonable enough.” Whew! He put down his teacup and slapped his big palms on his thighs. “Well, I’ll leave you and Flora to your feeding. It’s been a long day.”

She nodded. “I can hardly keep my eyes open.”

Before he left the room, she studied his huge silhouette in the doorway, broad shoulders, long torso, big in every way, a man’s man. Fine-looking man. Yet he’d been gentle with Flora. Was it totally wrong to find your new employer sexy? Yet she couldn’t deny she did.

“May I ask you a question?” It had been bothering her since she’d noticed the identical scars on his forehead when she’d first met him, and to be honest she needed something to get her mind off how attracted she was to him.

He turned. The epitome of patience… and gentleman cowboy… sexy.

“Did you have a broken neck?”

The hallway light cut across his profile. He scrunched up his face, obviously surprised by her comment. “Another astute observation, Dr. Silva. I take it my halo-brace scars tipped you off?”

She nodded, trying not to look smug, though definitely feeling it.

“When I was fifteen I was riding a bucking bronco, got bucked off and fractured C1-C2. I was fortunate not to have a spinal-cord injury, as you can obviously tell.” He held out his arms, palms up, looking over his own body.

“No need for fusion?”

“Three months wearing that brace did the trick. It also changed my life goal of becoming a rodeo star.” He smiled and deep vertical grooves cut through his cheeks. Yeah, that was sexy, too.

But his confession made her laugh outright. “A rodeo star?”

“You’re looking at Cattleman Bluff’s former junior rodeo bucking-bronco champion.” He said the mouthful with an amused twinkle in his eyes, as if the title might have carried some clout around here at one time.

But rodeo stars were as foreign as extraterrestrials to a girl from Boston. “I’d say I was impressed, if I had a clue what that meant.” If this was her idea of flirting, she wasn’t doing a very good job.

His closed-lip smile widened slowly, finally revealing a fine line of teeth, and the effect, combined with the lingering glint in his eyes, sent a shiver through her. Oh, man, this could be bad. Dr. Montgomery is gorgeous.

She swallowed. “I’m sure you were a regular star around these parts.” She tried out her version of cowboy talk, her accent no doubt falling far short of the mark. These pahts. Come to think of it, she could imagine him in dungarees and a torso-hugging cowboy shirt. And what she’d give to see the man wearing a cowboy hat.

“Easy come, easy go,” he said.

“Sounds pretty ouchy to me.”

“That, too. I guess you can say I’m a doctor today because of that accident.”

“Weird how life goes sometimes, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” He gave her statement some thought. “Well, I hope you both get a good night’s sleep.”

“Thank you.” She imagined sympathy in his eyes, and, though she didn’t want his pity, she appreciated his caring on some level. These days she didn’t have anyone in her corner, with the exception of Dr. Rivers, and he was far away.

“I also want you to know that, if it hadn’t been for you, my father might have been a hell of a lot worse off. You haven’t even begun to work in the clinic, and you’ve already impressed me.”

He’d paid her a compliment, and this from a man who didn’t seem to do heartfelt. It made her beam. “Thanks. I hardly know your dad, but I like him. He’s got a lot of spunk.”

“Yeah. He’s probably too stubborn to die, but the thought of dealing with his aphasia, well, let’s just say, we’ll all be miserable. I’m hoping his symptoms will resolve quickly.”

“Me, too.”

“Well, like I said, thanks to your fast thinking. Good night.” With that he turned and headed in the opposite direction from her bedroom wing. She watched him for a while, thinking that for a big man he moved with grace, and she definitely liked his style.

Flora had fallen asleep. Lizzie rose gently, hoping not to wake her, and started toward her room. It had been a crazy first-day meeting at the Montgomery ranch. How was she supposed to know there was a wedding going on? And a stroke? Sure was one hell of a way to break the ice with the family, though.

Cole seemed more city slicker than rancher, but thanks to his taking the time to talk with her she’d gotten a glimpse of his inner cowboy, which had probably shaped the man he’d become. The thing that really mixed her up, though, was she really, really liked what she’d seen.

CHAPTER FOUR

COLE WAS TOO keyed-up to sleep. Worries about his father had peaked a few hours back when he’d been assured by the attending physician that Tiberius Montgomery was stable. He’d sat by his father’s hospital bedside and watched him sleep for an hour or so after that, then decided, as the doctor had said, that it would be okay to go home. He thought about going to his own apartment in Laramie to sleep and be nearby, but decided to head back out to the ranch because of Elisabete.

The last thing he’d expected was to step in on a tired and frazzled woman walking the floors of the living room doing her best to calm a wailing baby. Her nearly black hair had been set free from the earlier braid, and thick tendrils had covered her shoulders. The contrast with her creamy skin had been unnerving. Then in the kitchen he’d noticed the tiny sexy mole above her upper lip, and had nearly fallen off his chair, which wouldn’t have been a good thing considering he’d been holding her baby.

She had the potential to be an incredibly beautiful woman, yet did little to enhance it, and still had managed to make him sit up and take notice. When was the last time that had happened? Maybe that was the special factor about naturally attractive women: sometimes they didn’t know it, and that made them all the more appealing. Or maybe it was just her youth.

Not a good thing for their situation, and, he had to be honest, with her fresh out of medical school, he’d be doing a lot of teaching at the clinic.

He sat on his bed, scrubbed a hand over his face, tired to the core, yet restless just the same, and accepted the fact that peace of mind wasn’t in his immediate future. He had a father to rehab, a new-to-him medical clinic to run, a diamond-in-the-rough doctor to train, not to mention an innocent baby who deserved a good start in life to look after. And why should he feel even partly responsible for that, too? Because any decent man understood innocence deserved protection.

He shook his head, then lay back on his pillow. And to think all he’d expected to do when he came home was run his brother’s medical clinic and keep up with his father’s accounting books. Simple, right? He laughed wryly to himself. Since when had life ever played out the way he’d expected?

Good thing he intended to spend the entire day Sunday working the ranch with a couple of Jack’s cowhands, then in the afternoon he’d go to the hospital to check in on his father. It would give Lizzie and Gretchen time to bond with the baby, and hard work had always been the best way Cole knew to run away when his personal life got out of control.

Hell, that was how he’d decided to take a fellowship and train for transcatheter heart-valve replacement. He’d chosen to learn the minimally invasive mitral-valve replacement procedure when hardly anyone in the country had heard of it, rather than deal with his mother’s death. He hadn’t spent more than two days consoling his father after the funeral. He just hadn’t been able to take the emotional strain seeing his dad fall apart like that. And leaving early as he’d done, as always, he’d left another burden on Trevor’s shoulders.

He rolled over. Sleep, where are you hiding?

Lizzie took extra care after nursing Flora Monday morning. She fought back tears when she diapered and dressed the precious baby in one of the few terry-cloth onesies she owned. “Everything’s going to be fine today, Flora bear. I promise. Gretchen is a sweet lady who’ll take good care of you.”

The baby watched Lizzie as she talked, as if trying to understand. Such intelligent blue eyes. She knew her mother’s voice, too, and the thought made the brimming tears spill over Lizzie’s lids. How was she going to survive today?

I’ve got to work. “Everything I do is for us.” She kissed her daughter’s chubby cheek and inhaled her special baby scent, savoring it. Not wanting to let go.

She’d had to leave Flora with so many different people when she’d first been born in order to keep up with medical-school classes and clinics. Then the toughest job in her life: the addiction center. It’d about ripped out her heart to leave her, too, but she’d had to graduate if she wanted to pass the boards and get a job. And she needed an income to pay the rent. At least now, in Wyoming, she’d only have one sweet grandmotherly type watching Flora every day, and she’d see her baby every night and all day on the weekends.

Quality time was what mattered, she repeated over and over to help dry her tears. Squeezing her baby close, she forced a smile, pulled back and put on her brave face, not wanting to leave Flora seeing her cry. “Are you going to be a good girl for Gretchen?”

A gurgle and coo answered her question.

“I love you so much!”

Lizzie kissed Flora goodbye in Gretchen’s arms. Cole could have sworn he saw her eyes well up, yet like a trooper she pulled herself together and didn’t utter a word about missing her baby on the drive in to work. Though frequent sighs and constantly fidgeting hands in her lap gave her away.

His back was stiff from hard labor yesterday, walking the range, sinking posts, but it was the kind of ache that did a man good. But the pain wasn’t distraction enough to keep him from noticing how Lizzie had pulled her hair back in that braid again and wore silver hoop earrings large enough for shooting practice. Even though she’d chosen a long-sleeved white tailored shirt with dark slacks, sending a clear unisex message, he couldn’t help but notice what seemed to be all woman beneath the wrapper. Yeah, this couldn’t be good.

“How’s your dad doing?” She broke into his spiraling sexual thoughts.

“Pretty well. He’s recovering his strength quickly, which, as you know, is always a good thing with CVAs. Fingers crossed his speech will turn around, too. Another day or two of observation, and they may even skip sending him to rehab if he continues on this trajectory. The doctor said a home occupational-health worker and speech-recovery therapist may be all he needs.”

“That’s fantastic. Wow, we dodged the bullet there, didn’t we?”

He liked how she’d already thrown herself into the center of his family using we as if she were one of them. “Yes, we did. Keep sending good thoughts for his speech. You know how recovery can change day to day in the hospital.”

“Yes, and I certainly will.”

It got quiet then, as if the early morning drive had been their routine for years. She sighed and glanced out the window; he snuck a peak at her intently watching the scenery. He’d forgotten how amazing the Wyoming landscape was, how the sparkling blue sky over this big box-shaped state accentuated the brown and golden shades of strata on the low-lying hills, and made the prairie grass look like one huge shaggy carpet.

“How’re we gonna work this today?” she asked, checking back in, one foot suddenly tapping a quick rhythm on the floor of the car. He didn’t peg her as someone to get nervous about a new job, though she did seem to run on adrenaline and nerves.

“The patients?”

“Yeah, are you willing to let me work on my own unless I need your help?”

“I’d like to supervise, if you don’t mind.”

She started to protest.

“At first,” he said to appease her, but mostly to shut her up because he didn’t feel like debating the topic. He was the senior doctor and she might as well get used to it. “Then we can evaluate the situation and go from there.”

“I guess that’s reasonable.”

“You didn’t think I’d just cut you loose, did you?”

She tossed him a teasing smile. “A girl can hope.”

“Charlotte, the RN, is going to triage the appointments. Give the more complicated patients to me, and maternal/child to you. Oh, and I’ll take all of the cardiology patients. Obviously.”

“How sexist is that?”

“It’s not sexist if it’s practical. I know squat about maternal child health, and I figure, since you recently had a baby, not to mention the fact that you’ve just graduated from medical school and most likely studied the topic more recently than I have, you’re more suited to the job.” Not to mention that you’re a woman. Okay, so it did sound sexist. It was beside the point.

She shook her head, but moved on, apparently deciding not to argue. Good choice. “I’d like to do as many procedures as possible.”

“Fine with me. I’m spoiled by having a team of nurses do my dirty work.”

“See, you are sexist and since when do cardiologists ever get dirty?”

“Who’s being sexist now? There are plenty of male nurses.”

She smiled, clearly liking the verbal sparring. “Point taken. But I don’t think of cardiology as a profession that gets dirty.”

“You’ve heard of angioplasty, right?”

“You do those?”

“I do, and I take it a step further, I replace mitral valves, too.”

“But that’s open-heart surgery.”

“Not the way we do it these days. I use the same route as angiograms. TAVR or TAVI—have you heard of that?”

She turned her head toward him, disbelief in her eyes. “You do transcatheter aortic-valve replacements?”

“Also known as trans-catheter aortic-valve implantations. Yes—” he sounded smug and couldn’t help it “—that would be me.”

“Oh, my gosh.” Except it sounded like ohmahgosh. “You’re, like, a star in medicine!” Except it sounded like stah.

“You’ve heard of me?”

“You’re, like, the god of cardiology. I can’t believe I didn’t add that up.” She tapped her hands on her knees. “Wow. I’m working with a genius!”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh, I would. You launched a whole new minimally invasive approach to mitral-valve replacement. No major incisions, the heart doesn’t have to be stopped or put on bypass, there’s quicker recovery time. We learned all about that in my fourth-year cardiology module. This is freaking amazing.”

“Hold on, it’s not like I created it. All I did was hear about a great new product, and ask to be trained by the medical-device company. Granted, I was one of the first in the country to do that. Okay, the first.” He tried his best not to look too proud. “You know the old saying with medicine: watch-one-do-one-teach-one. Now I travel the country doing in-services training for other doctors. Spreading the word. Kind of like a TAVR evangelist.” He enjoyed her gushing, but went the humble route anyway. “I’m just a teacher.”

“The procedure sure has changed a lot of lives for the better. It probably doesn’t cost nearly as much as the old way of doing things either.”

“Well, the surgery isn’t for everyone, but, yeah, it has helped a lot of people.”

He pulled into the parking lot, which put an end to the conversation. When they got out of the car, he thought he noticed a fresh blush on her face, and she looked at him differently than when they’d left the ranch. Okay, so now he knew she was the kind of woman who was impressed with what a man could do, not only his appearance, which was a definite plus for him. Yet there was that link to a man’s abilities again, rather than the person. Yeah, but that was all beside the point, because nothing was going to happen between them.

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