A&E Docs

July 2020

His Baby Surprise

August 2020

Taming the Brooding Doc

September 2020

Her Knight in Shining Armour

November 2020

Emergency Medicine

December 2020

The Maverick Doc

January 2020

His Emergency Secret

About the Authors

BRENDA HARLEN is a multi-award-winning author for Mills & Boon who has written over twenty-five books for the company.

With a background of working in medical laboratories and a love of the romance genre it’s no surprise that SUE MACKAY writes medical romance stories. She wrote her first story at age eight and hasn’t stopped since. She lives in New Zealand’s Marlborough Sounds where she indulges her passions for cycling, walking and kayaking. When she isn’t writing she also loves cooking and entertaining guests with sumptuous meals that include locally caught fish.

LOUISA HEATON is a married mother of four (including a set of twins) and she lives on an island in Hampshire. When not wrangling her children, husband or countless animals, she can often be found walking her dogs along the beach, muttering to herself as she works out plot points. In her spare time, Louisa reads a lot, or crochets. Usually when she ought to be doing something else!

A&E Docs: His Baby Surprise

Two Doctors & a Baby

Brenda Harlen

Dr. White’s Baby Wish

Sue MacKay

Their Double Baby Gift

Louisa Heaton

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90790-7

A&E DOCS: HIS BABY SURPRISE

Two Doctors & a Baby © 2016 Brenda Harlen Dr. White’s Baby Wish © 2016 Sue MacKay Their Double Baby Gift © 2017 Louisa Heaton

Published in Great Britain 2020

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

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

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

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Two Doctors & a Baby

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

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Epilogue

Dr. White’s Baby Wish

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

EPILOGUE

Their Double Baby Gift

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

About the Publisher

Two Doctors & a Baby

Brenda Harlen

This book is dedicated to all the real-life doctors, nurses, EMTs and others who work in the medical field—because you make a difference, every single day. Thank you!

Chapter One

After six years at Mercy Hospital, Dr. Justin Garrett knew that Friday nights in the ER were inevitably frenzied and chaotic.

New Year’s Eve was worse.

And when New Year’s Eve happened to fall on a Friday—well, it wasn’t yet midnight and he’d already seen more than twice the usual number of patients pass through the emergency department, most of the incidents and injuries directly related to alcohol consumption.

A drunken college student who had put his fist through a wall—and his basketball scholarship in jeopardy—with fractures of the fourth and fifth metacarpal bones. A sixty-three-year-old man who had doubled up on Viagra to celebrate the occasion with his thirty-six-year-old wife and ended up in cardiac arrest instead. A seventeen-year-old female who had fallen off her balcony because the Ecstasy slipped into her drink by her boyfriend had made her want to pick the pretty flowers on her neighbor’s terrace—thankfully, she lived on the second floor, although she did sustain a broken clavicle and had required thirty-eight stitches to close the gash on her arm, courtesy of the glass vodka cooler bottle she had been holding when she fell.

And those were only the ones he’d seen in the past hour. Then there was Nancy Anderson—a woman who claimed she tripped and fell into a door but whom he recognized from her frequent visits to the ER with various and numerous contusions and lacerations. Tonight it was a black eye, swollen jaw and broken wrist. Nancy wasn’t drunk, but Justin would bet that her husband was—not because it was New Year’s Eve but because Ray Anderson always hit the bottle as soon as he got home from work.

More than once, Justin had tried to help her see that there were other options. She refused to listen to him. Because he understood that a woman who had been abused by her husband might be reluctant to confide in another man, he’d called in a female physician to talk to her, with the same unsatisfactory result. After Thanksgiving, when she’d suffered a miscarriage caused by a “fall down the stairs,” Dr. Wallace had suggested that she talk to a counselor. Nancy Anderson continued to insist that she was just clumsy, that her husband loved her and would never hurt her.

“What did she say happened this time?” asked Callie Levine, one of his favorite nurses who had drawn the short straw and got stuck working the New Year’s Eve shift beside him.

“Walked into a door.”

Callie shook her head. “He’s going to kill her one of these days.”

“Probably,” Justin admitted grimly. “But it doesn’t matter that you and I see it when she refuses to acknowledge what’s happening.”

“When she lost the baby, I honestly thought that would do it. That her grief would override her fear and she would finally tell the truth.”

“She fell down the stairs,” Justin said, reminding her of the explanation Nancy Anderson had given when she was admitted on that previous occasion.

Then, because talking about the woman’s situation made him feel both frustrated and ineffectual, he opened another chart. “Did you call up to the psych department for a consult?”

“Victoria Danes said she would be down shortly,” Callie told him. “Did you want her to see Mrs. Anderson?”

“No point,” he said. “I just need her to talk to Tanner Northrop so we can figure out what to do there.”

“Is that the little boy in Exam Two with Dr. Wallace?”

“Dr. Wallace is still here?” He’d crossed paths with Avery Wallace earlier in the evening when he’d sneaked into the doctor’s lounge for a much-needed hit of caffeine and she’d strolled in, wearing a formfitting black dress and mile-high heels, and his eyes had almost popped right out of his head.

She’d barely glanced in his direction as she’d made her way to the women’s locker room, emerging a few minutes later in faded scrubs and running shoes. It didn’t matter that the more familiar attire disguised her delectable feminine curves—his body was always on full alert whenever she was near.

She’d moved to Charisma three and a half years earlier and started working at Mercy Hospital. Since then, he’d gotten to know her pretty well—professionally, at least. Personally, she wouldn’t give him the time of day, despite the definite sizzle in the air whenever they were around each other.

Although she wasn’t on the schedule tonight, she’d assisted him with a procedure earlier in the evening because they were short staffed and she was there. He’d expected that she would have gone home after that—making her escape as soon as possible. Apparently, he was wrong.

Callie nodded in response to his question. “She’s teaching the kid how to play Go Fish.”

He smiled at that, grateful Tanner had some kind of distraction. The eight-year-old had dialed 9-1-1 after his mother shot up a little too much of her favorite heroin cocktail and wouldn’t wake up. She still hadn’t woken up, and Tanner didn’t seem to know if he had any other family.

“Send Victoria in to see Tanner when she comes down,” he said. “I’m going to see how Mrs. Anderson is doing.”

“Good luck with that.”

Of course, it was his bad luck that he’d just opened the door to Exam Four when the psychologist appeared.

“What’s she doing here?” Nancy Anderson demanded.

“She’s not here to see you,” Justin assured her. Then, to Victoria, “Exam Two.”

“Thanks.” The psychologist moved on; the patient reapplied the ice pack to her jaw.

“Are you planning to go home tonight?” Justin asked her.

“Of course.”

“Do you need someone to call a cab for you?” he asked.

Nancy shook her head. “Ray’s waiting for me outside.”

He scribbled a prescription and handed her the slip. “Pain meds—for the wrist.”

She had to set down the ice to take it in her uninjured hand. “Thanks.”

There was so much more he could have said, so much more he wanted to say, but he simply nodded and left the room.

“Dare I hope that things are finally starting to slow down?” a pretty brunette asked when he returned to the nurses’ station. She’d only been working at Mercy a couple of months and he had to glance at the whiteboard to remind himself of her name: Heather.

“I wouldn’t,” Justin advised. “It’s early yet—still lots of champagne to be drunk and much idiocy to be demonstrated.”

She laughed. “How did you get stuck working New Year’s Eve?”

“Everyone has to take a turn.”

“Callie said it was Dr. Roberts’s turn.”

He shrugged. It was true that Greg Roberts had been on the schedule for tonight. It was also true that the other doctor was a newlywed while Justin had no plans for the evening. He’d received a couple of invitations to parties—and a few offers for more personal celebrations—but he’d declined them all without really knowing why. He usually enjoyed going out with friends, but lately he’d found himself tiring of the familiar scene.

“What’s going on with the guy in Exam Three?” Heather asked. “Are we going to be able to open up that room pretty soon?”

He shook his head. “Suspected alcohol poisoning. I’m waiting for the results from his blood alcohol and tox screens to confirm the diagnosis.” In the interim, the patient was on a saline drip for hydration.

“Speaking of alcohol,” Heather said. “I’ve got a bottle of champagne chilling at home to celebrate the New Year whenever I finally get out of here.”

“You plan on drinking a whole bottle of champagne by yourself?”

Her lips curved in a slow, seductive smile. “Unless you want to share it with me.”

What he’d intended as an innocent question had probably sounded to her as if he was angling for an invitation. But honestly, his thoughts had been divided between Nancy Anderson and Tanner Northrop, and Heather’s overture was as unexpected as it was unwanted.

“I’ve got the rest of the weekend off and my roommate is in Florida for the holidays,” Heather continued.

“Lucky you,” he noted.

She touched a hand to his arm. “We could be lucky together.”

He stepped back from the counter, so that her hand fell away, and finished making notes in the chart before he passed it to her. “Sorry,” he said, without really meaning it. “I’ve got other plans this weekend.”

“What about tonight?” she pressed. “Surely you’re not expected to be anywhere when we get off shift at two a.m.?”

“No,” he acknowledged. “But it’s been a really long night and I just want to go home to my bed. Alone.”

The hopeful light in her eyes faded. “Callie told me that you always go for the blondes.”

He wasn’t really surprised to hear that he’d been the subject of some conversation. He knew that the nurses often talked about the doctors. He also knew that some of them weren’t as interested in patient care as they were in adding the letters M-R-S to their names. But the fact that Callie had been drawn in to the discussion did surprise him, and he made a mental note to talk to her. If he couldn’t stop the gossip, he hoped to at least encourage discretion.

“My response has nothing to do with the color of your hair,” he assured Heather. “I’m just not interested in partying with anyone tonight.”

She pouted but turned her attention back to her work.

As he was walking away from the nurses’ station, a call came in from paramedics at an MVA seeking permission to transport multiple victims to the ER. Justin forgot about the gossip and refocused his mind on real priorities.

Avery Wallace rolled her shoulders, attempting to loosen the tight muscles that ached and burned. She was an obstetrician, not an ER doctor—and not scheduled to work tonight in any event. But she’d been on her way to a party with friends when she got the call from her answering service about a patient who was in labor and on her way to Mercy. She knew the doctor on call could handle the birth, but the expectant mother—a military wife whose family lived on the West Coast and whose husband was currently out of the country—was on her own and incredibly nervous about the birth of her first child.

Avery hadn’t hesitated to make the detour to the hospital. After texting a quick apology to Amy Seabrook—the friend and colleague who had invited her to the party—she’d exchanged her dress and heels for well-worn scrubs and running shoes.

After Michelle was settled with her new baby, Avery headed back to the locker room with the vague thought of salvaging her plans for the evening. She didn’t make it far before she was nabbed to assist Dr. Romeo—aka Justin Garrett—with a resuscitative thoracotomy in the ER.

While she might disapprove of his blatant flirtations with members of the female staff, she couldn’t deny that he was an exceptional doctor—or that her own heart always beat just a little bit faster whenever he was around. He stood about six feet two inches with a lean but strong build, short dark blond hair and deep green eyes. But it was more than his physical appearance that drew women to him. He was charming and confident, and not just a doctor but also a Garrett—a name with a certain inherent status in Charisma, North Carolina, where Garrett Furniture had been one of the town’s major employers for more than fifty years.

After more than three years of working beside him at the hospital, she would have expected to become inured to his presence. The truth was exactly the opposite—the more time she spent with him, the more appealing she found him. She respected his ability to take control in a crisis situation as much as she admired the compassion he showed to his patients and, as a result, she’d developed a pretty major crush on him—not that she had any intention of letting Dr. Romeo know it.

When the patient had been resuscitated and moved to surgery, he’d simply and sincerely thanked Avery for her help. That was another thing she liked about him—he might be in command of the ER, but he never overlooked the contributions of the rest of the staff.

She’d barely discarded her gown and gloves from that procedure when she was steered to the surgical wing to help Dr. Bristow with a femoral shaft fracture. She passed through the ER again on her way out, and that was when she saw Dr. Garrett hunkered down in conversation with a little boy. The child’s face was streaked with dirt and tears, but it was the abject grief in his eyes that tugged at her heart and had her slipping into the room after the ER physician had gone. She chatted with him and played Go Fish until Victoria Danes arrived. Once she was confident that he was comfortable in the psychologist’s company, she headed back toward the locker room. And ran straight into the one person she always tried to avoid.

“Good—you’re still here.”

Her heart bumped against her ribs as she looked up at Justin, but she kept her tone cool, casual. “Actually, I’m just on my way home.”

“We’ve got two ambulances coming in from an MVA—one carrying an expectant mother.”

“Dr. Terrence can handle it.”

“He can, but Callie asked me to find you.”

“Why?” she wondered.

“The pregnant woman is her sister.”

According to the report from the paramedics, the taxi in which Callie’s sister and her husband were riding had been broadsided by a pickup truck that had sped through a red light.

Avery watched the clock as she scrubbed, conscious that each one of the five minutes she was required to spend on the procedure was another minute the expectant mother was waiting. Dr. Garrett was already working on the pregnant woman’s husband, who had various contusions and lacerations and a possible concussion.

When Avery finally entered the OR, she was given an immediate update on the patient’s condition.

“Camryn Ritter, thirty-one years old, thirty-eight weeks pregnant. Presenting with moderate bleeding and uterine tenderness, BP one-ten over seventy, pulse rate one-thirty, baby’s rhythm is steady at ninety BPM.”

The numbers, combined with her own observations, supported the diagnosis of placental abruption with evidence of fetal bradycardia, which meant that delivering the baby now was necessary for the welfare of both mother and child. Thankfully, Dr. Terrence had already requested that the anesthesiologist give the patient a spinal block, so she could start surgery almost right away.

She’d lost count of the number of C-sections that she’d performed, but she’d never considered a caesarean to be a routine surgery. Every pregnancy was different and every baby was different, so she was always hypervigilant, never taking anything for granted. But at thirty-eight weeks, both mother and baby had a really good chance as long as she could get in before anything else went wrong.

“Where’s Brad?” the patient asked worriedly.

Avery glanced at Callie, who was holding her sister’s hand. Ordinarily she would have banned the nurse from the operating room because of the personal connection, but in the absence of the woman’s husband, she was counting on Callie to help keep the expectant mother calm.

“Brad’s her husband, my brother-in-law,” Callie explained. Then, to her sister, she said, “He was a little bumped up in the taxi, but Dr. Garrett’s checking him over now and running some tests.”

“He was bleeding,” Camryn said. “There was so much blood.”

“Head injuries bleed a lot,” Callie acknowledged. “Remember when you got hit with a baseball bat in third grade—while you were wearing my pink jean jacket? It took mom three washes to get the blood out.”

Her sister managed a weak smile. “So he’s okay?”

“He’s going to be fine,” Callie promised, more likely to soothe the expectant mother’s worries than from any certainty of the fact. “Dr. Garrett’s one of the best doctors on staff here. Dr. Wallace is another.”

“Brad really wanted to be here when the baby was born.”

“I’m sure neither of you expected that your baby would be born tonight, under these circumstances.”

The anesthesiologist was near the head of the bed, monitoring the mother’s vital signs and intravenous levels. He nodded to Avery and, after confirming that her patient could feel nothing, she drew the scalpel across her swollen abdomen.

A planned caesarean usually took between five and ten minutes from first cut until the baby was lifted out. In an emergency situation like this one, an experienced doctor could perform the procedure in about two minutes.

Dr. Terrence—who had scrubbed in to assist—worked to keep the surgical field clean, swabbing with gauze and holding the incision open while she worked. They were approaching the two-minute mark when she reached into the uterus. Clear fluid gushed around her gloved hand as she cradled the small skull in her palm and carefully guided the head, then the shoulders, out of the opening.

Her hands didn’t shake as she lifted the baby out of the mother’s womb. Her hands never shook when she was under the hot lights of an operating or delivery room. She didn’t let herself feel any pressure or emotion while she was focused on a task. Her unflappable demeanor was, she knew, only one reason some of the staff referred to her as “Wall-ice.”

The baby’s color was good, and when Avery wiped his mouth with gauze and gently squeezed his nostrils, she was immediately rewarded with a soft cry.

“Is that—” Camryn’s voice hitched. “Is that my baby?”

“That’s your baby,” Avery confirmed.

“He’s a boy,” Callie told her sister, watching with misty eyes as the cord was clamped and cut. “You have a beautiful, perfect baby boy.”

“I want to see him,” the new mother said.

“You will—in just a moment.”

“Seven pounds, five ounces, nineteen inches,” another nurse announced from the corner of the operating room, after the newborn had been wiped, weighed and swaddled.

Camryn wiped at a tear that spilled onto her cheek as the baby was placed in her arms. “Where’s Brad? I want to see him. I want him to see our baby.”

“He’ll be here as soon as he can,” Callie soothed.

While the nurse and her sister talked quietly, Avery continued to work, suturing up each layer of abdominal tissue. But even as she focused on her task, she was thinking of the awe and wonder on Camryn’s face when she saw her baby for the first time—and immediately fell in love with him. Avery had seen it happen countless times, but it never failed to tug at her own heart.

Half an hour later, when she finally left the new mom with her baby, she again crossed paths with Dr. Garrett in the hall.

“How’s dad?” she asked, referring to the baby’s father whom he’d been working on in the adjacent room.

“Aside from two broken ribs, a punctured lung, mild concussion and a head laceration that required twenty-two stitches to close, he’s doing just fine.”

“Twenty-two stitches? I just put in more than twice that number and delivered a baby.”

“Competitive, aren’t you?” Though his tone was teasing, his smile was weak.

“Maybe a little,” she acknowledged.

“Boy or girl?”

“Boy.”

He slung a companionable arm across her shoulders as they headed down the hall. “Good work, Wallace.”

“You, too, Garrett.”

They walked together in silence for a few minutes, until Avery caught him stifling a yawn. “I imagine it’s been a very long night for you,” she said.

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” he reminded her.

“Was,” she corrected.

He scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “What?”

“It’s after midnight now.” Afterward, she would wonder what caused her to throw caution and common sense to the wind. But in the moment, it seemed perfectly natural to lift herself onto her toes and touch her lips to his cheek. “Happy New Year.”

She could tell he was as startled by the impulsive gesture as she was, but when he looked at her, she saw something more than surprise in his eyes. Something that made her heart pound harder and faster, that made her weary body ache and yearn. Something that warned her she’d taken the first step down an intriguing—and potentially dangerous—path.

He took the next step, pulling open the nearest door—to a housekeeping supply closet—and tugging her inside. She didn’t balk or protest. For more than three years, they’d danced around the attraction between them. They weren’t dancing anymore.

“Happy New Year,” he echoed, then crushed his mouth down on hers.

Chapter Two

His kiss was hot and hungry and demanding. She kissed him back, just as hotly and hungrily, responding to his every demand and meeting them with her own. If she’d been able to think clearly—if she’d been able to think at all—she might have drawn back. But the moment his lips touched hers, all rational thought slipped from her mind. In fact, her brain seemed to have shut down completely, letting the hormones that flooded through her veins lead the way.

And they were leading her to a very happy place. A place where his hands were all over her, touching and teasing, giving her so much pleasure and still making her want so much more.

He eased his lips away from hers. “I like the sparkly things in your hair, Wallace—they really dress up your scrubs.”

“What?” She frowned as she reached up, startled to realize that her hair was in a fancy twist instead of her usual ponytail. So much had happened since she’d left home, she’d almost forgotten about the party and the decorative pins she’d impulsively added to her updo for the occasion. “Oh.”

“You were out celebrating the New Year,” Justin guessed.

“I never actually made it that far,” she told him.

“I’m sure your date was disappointed.”

“It wasn’t a date,” she said. “Not really.”

“Good.” He slid his hands up her back, drawing her closer, and lowered his head to nip playfully at her bottom lip.

This was dangerous. He was hardly touching her and her resistance was melting. He wasn’t her type. Not at all. He was a player and a doctor and everything she didn’t want in a man.

But right now, she didn’t care about any of that. Right now, she did want him. Or at least her body wanted to feel the way she knew he could make her feel, the way he was making her feel.

“But I am sorry your plans were ruined,” he said.

“They were actually Amy’s plans—and I was kind of relieved to escape another blind date.”

“Then you weren’t planning to ring in the New Year with wild, sweaty sex?”

“The thought never crossed my mind.” His hands grazed her breasts as they skimmed up her sides, making her breath hitch. “Until now.”

“Really?” He smiled against her lips. “You’re thinking about it now?”

She slid her hands beneath his scrub top, over the smooth, taut skin of his abdomen. “Yeah, I’m thinking about it now.”

“If you want to hold that thought, I’m off shift in a couple of hours.”

She scraped her teeth lightly over his jaw. “I’ll change my mind in a couple of hours.”

“I definitely don’t want you to change your mind.” He whisked her scrub top up over her head, unveiling her pink lace bra, and his brows lifted. “You sure you didn’t put this on for your date?”

“Forget about my date,” she suggested. “And focus on me.”

“I’m focused,” he promised, his thumbs stroking over her rigid nipples through the delicate fabric. “Very focused.”

Her head fell back against the door as arrows of sensation shot straight to her core. Her body was on fire. She was burning with want, with need. Desperate, aching need. She was so tightly wound up she was practically vibrating.

Then he dipped his head and found her breast with his mouth, suckling her through the lace. She slid her fingers into his hair, holding him against her as waves of exquisite sensation washed over her.

His mouth moved to her other breast as his hand slid down the front of her pants, his fingertips brushing over the aching nub at her center. The light touch made her gasp and shudder. He parted the soft folds of skin, groaning his appreciation when he found that she was already wet.

“You do something to me, Wallace,” he admitted gruffly.

“Do something to me,” she suggested, reaching a hand into his pants to wrap around the hard length of him, making him groan again. “Do me.”

“I will,” he promised.

But for now, he continued to touch and tease her. She bit hard on her lip to keep from crying out, her palms flat against the door to hold herself upright as her knees quivered and her body shuddered.

She was gasping and panting and on the verge of melting into a puddle at his feet when he pushed her panties down to her ankles with her pants, then shoved his own pants and boxers out of the way. Finally he covered her mouth with his and thrust into her, kissing her hard and deep as he took her body the same way.

She was ready for him. More than ready. But it had been a long time, and she’d almost forgotten how good it could feel. How exquisitely and blissfully good.

It was pretty much a consensus among the female contingent of the hospital nursing staff that Dr. Garrett could satisfy a woman’s every want and need, and he lived up to that reputation now. He used his hands and his lips and his body to drive her to the ultimate pinnacle of pleasure and far beyond, soaring into the abyss with her.

When she finally floated back to earth, her body was still pinned against the door, still intimately joined with his. She took a minute to catch her breath as he did the same.

“I think I might need the paddles to restart my heart, Wallace.”

She forced herself to match his casual tone. “Then it’s a good thing you’re a doctor.”

But even while her body continued to hum with the aftereffects of pleasure, her mind was beginning to remember the hundred and one reasons that giving in to the attraction she felt for Justin was a bad idea. The number one reason was the MD that followed his name; the hundred other reasons were the hundred names of other women he’d undoubtedly pleasured in a similar manner.

He brushed his lips against hers—the kiss surprisingly tender and sweet on the heels of their passionate and almost desperate coupling.

“Do you ever wonder how we didn’t end up here before now?” he asked her.

Her brows lifted. “Mostly naked in a housekeeping supply closet?”

“I was focused on the mostly naked part,” he said. “And thinking that I’d like to take you back to my place and progress from mostly to completely naked.”

She shook her head and pushed him away so she could pull up her pants and gather the rest of her discarded clothing. “Not a good idea.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because we have to work together.”

“We’ve always worked well together,” he noted. “And now we know that we play well together, too, and—”

She touched a hand to his lips, silencing his words as she shook her head. “No.”

He frowned. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she insisted, refastening her bra.

“You’re just going to walk away?”

She tugged her shirt over her head. “Well, someone is eventually going to need something from this closet, so it’s probably not a good idea to stay here.”

“You know I’m not referring to the closet but what happened between us,” he chided.

“It was an impulse, Garrett. Nothing more than that.”

“An impulse,” he echoed.

He sounded oddly hurt by her characterization of their actions—but she was probably just imagining it. After all, Justin Garrett didn’t do emotions or involvement. He moved in and then moved on, and she thought he would appreciate that she didn’t want anything more than that.

“It was an intense situation in the ER tonight and we both worked hard to ensure a young couple had reason to celebrate rather than mourn the start of the New Year.”

“You think that what just happened between us only happened because of adrenaline?” he asked incredulously.

“And proximity,” she allowed.

“So this is normal postoperative procedure for you?”

“No!”

“Then it was out-of-character behavior?” he pressed.

“Very,” she admitted.

“And probably an inevitable result of the fact that you’ve been denying the attraction between us for more than three years.”

Probably. Although she had no intention of admitting it. To Avery’s mind, it was bad enough that she’d succumbed to the attraction she’d tried so hard to ignore without giving him the additional satisfaction of knowing that she’d harbored those feelings for so long.

But he was right—she’d been attracted to him from the beginning. The day she interviewed with the chief of staff at Mercy Hospital, the first time she’d met Justin, he’d smiled at her and her pulse had skyrocketed.

She wasn’t unfamiliar with attraction, but she couldn’t remember ever having it hit her so immediately and intensely. On her first day of work, he’d flirted with her a little, and she’d flirted back.

And then, later that same day, she’d seen him flirting with someone else. The day after that, it was someone different again. It had only taken three more days—three more shifts at the hospital—for her to realize that Justin Garrett, aka Dr. Romeo, was not her type. He’d continued to flirt with her—or try to—when their paths crossed, but she’d given him no encouragement.

Not until she’d kissed him.

“I have to go.”

He slapped his hand against the door to prevent her from opening it. “And you’re still denying it,” he noted.

“Let me go, Garrett.”

“I’m not holding you hostage. I’m just trying to have a conversation.”

“There’s nothing to talk about. You got another notch to add to your bedpost—isn’t that enough for you?”

“I don’t have bedposts,” he said. “Which I’d be happy to prove to you if you come home with me when I get off shift.”

“No,” she said firmly.

He brushed a loose hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear, the light touch of his fingertips on her skin making her shiver and want him all over again. Damn him.

“What did I do wrong?” he asked her. “Aside from taking you against the closet door with all the finesse of a horny teenager, I mean.”

She wished she could blame him for that, but she’d initiated everything. She wished she could dismiss the experience as unsatisfactory, but the truth was, despite the setting and the pace of the event, her body had been very thoroughly satisfied.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said.

“Then why are you pulling away?” Justin asked, sincerely baffled by her reaction.

Before she could respond, his pager started beeping.

Mentally cursing the untimely interruption, he scooped it up from the floor, where it had fallen when he’d dropped his pants. He glanced at the display and sighed. “Two ambulances are on their way from another MVA.”

But there was no response.

Avery was already gone.

With a sigh, Justin tucked the pager back in his pocket and headed to the ER.

He wouldn’t be a good doctor if he couldn’t set aside personal distractions and do his job. But after he’d finished stitching up another head wound, helped cast the broken arm of a screaming, squirming four-year-old, checked on the college student with alcohol poisoning and confirmed that Tanner Northrop was in the temporary custody of Family Services, it was almost two hours past the end of his shift.

He went to the locker room, physically and mentally exhausted, and let the water of the shower pound down on him. When he finally came out of the shower, he wanted nothing more than his bed.

Then he thought about Avery in that bed, warm and willing and naked, and his body miraculously stirred to life again.

The pretty baby doctor could believe whatever she wanted and make whatever excuses she wanted, but he knew that what was between them wasn’t even close to being done.

Avery’s apartment was dark and empty when she got home from the hospital, the quiet space echoing the hollow feeling inside her. The physical pleasure she’d experienced in those stolen moments with Justin Garrett had already faded away, leaving her aching and ashamed.

She should never have kissed him. She certainly should never have let him drag her into the closet. And she most definitely should never have succumbed to the lustful desires that stirred deep inside whenever she was near him.

Dropping onto the edge of the sofa, she buried her face in her hands, thoroughly mortified by her own behavior. She had a reputation for being cool and untouchable, but she’d been so hot and desperate for Justin that she’d let him screw her in a housekeeping supply closet.

What if someone found out?

Her cheeks burned with humiliation at the possibility. No doubt the hospital grapevine would love to know that the charismatic Dr. Romeo had succeeded in melting the frosty Dr. Wall-ice.

Of course, the more than two years that had passed since she’d last had sex might have been a factor, too. She missed physical intimacy. She missed the sharing of close personal contact with another person, the rising tension, the exhilarating release. But she’d never been good at sex outside of a relationship, which explained why it had been such a long time since she’d had sex.

Prior to the scheduled setup with Nolan tonight, she couldn’t even remember the name of the last guy she’d dated. Was it Simon? Or Mike? Simon was the real estate agent who lived on the ninth floor of her building. Dark hair, darker eyes, sexy smile—but a sloppy kisser. Mike was one of the cameramen on Ryder to the Rescue, her brother’s TV show. Shaggy blond hair, hazel eyes, great laugh and—she was informed by her brother after she’d agreed to meet Mike for coffee—engaged to one of the show’s producers.

Or maybe it had been Kevin. She’d almost forgotten about him. They’d met on the Fourth of July, having struck up a conversation while they were both in line at the Fireman’s Picnic—a charity barbecue for the children’s wing of the hospital. He’d asked for her number and he’d even called a few times after that, trying to set up a date, but they’d never actually made it to that next step.

Her life really was pathetic.

Spending time with Amy and Ben, she sometimes found herself wondering if she would ever find that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that her friend shared with her husband. The kind of love that she’d once believed she shared with the man she’d planned to marry.

Avery had met Wyatt Travers at med school, when she was in her first year and he was in his third. Even then, she’d had reasons for not wanting to get involved with a doctor, but he’d swept her off her feet. Two years after they met, he put an engagement ring on her finger, and six months later, they moved in together.

Their lives were undeniably busy and they were often going in opposite directions, but whenever they had time just to be together, they would talk about their plans for the future, where they would set up a medical practice together, when they would start a family and how many children they would have.

Then he’d decided to go to Haiti as part of an emergency medical response team. Avery had wanted to go with him, but she was just finishing up her residency, so Wyatt went alone. He was gone for six months and when he finally came back, it was to tell her that he’d fallen in love with someone else. When Avery reminded him that he was supposed to be in love with her and that their wedding was scheduled for the following summer, he admitted that he hadn’t just fallen in love with Stasia—he’d married her.

Avery had immediately packed up and moved out of their apartment, because it seemed a little awkward to continue to live with her former fiancé and his new wife. She’d crashed with a friend for a few weeks until she figured out what she wanted to do with her life now.

It had taken her a long time to get over Wyatt’s betrayal. He’d argued that she couldn’t blame him for falling in love with someone else, but she could and she did. If he’d really loved her, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with Stasia—and since he’d fallen in love with Stasia, it proved that he’d never really loved her.

Either way, what it meant for Avery was that there wasn’t going to be a joint medical practice or a wedding in August or a baby born two and a half years after that. Not for her, anyway. Wyatt, on the other hand, had accelerated the timeline he and Avery had mapped out for their life together, becoming a father five months after his return from Haiti.

That was when Avery realized she needed to make some changes, and when her brother, Ryder, was offered a contract to do a cable television show, she decided to go with him to Charisma. She was immediately charmed by the small town and grateful that it was far enough from Boston that she wouldn’t worry about running into Wyatt or Stasia at the grocery store. Because as unlikely as that might seem in the city, it was a risk she didn’t want to take.

She threw herself into her career and focused on proving herself to the staff at Mercy Hospital. She’d succeeded in building an impeccable reputation, and she’d also made some really good friends, including Amy Seabrook. She even went out on the occasional date, but she hadn’t fallen in love again.

And when she went home at the end of the day, it was always to an empty apartment. She tried to convince herself that she liked it that way—that she was glad she didn’t have to worry about anyone leaving wet towels in the bathroom or dirty socks on the floor; that she appreciated the freedom of choosing whether she wanted to listen to music or watch TV or simply enjoy the quiet solitude.

But deep in her heart, she couldn’t deny the truth: she was alone and she was lonely. She wanted a partner with whom to share her life and build a family, but she was growing increasingly skeptical about either of those things ever happening for her.

In the past six months, she’d attended three bridal showers, four baby showers and two first-birthday parties. All of her friends and contemporaries were at the point in their lives where they were getting married and having babies, and she was sincerely happy for them. But she was a little envious, too.

She was thirty-two years old and her life was so far off track she couldn’t see the track anymore. She was so desperate for physical contact with a man that she’d turned to Justin Garrett.

Not that he ever bragged about his conquests—he didn’t need to. The women he bedded were only too happy to add their names to the extensive and ever-growing list of those who had experienced nirvana between his sheets.

Now Avery was one of them—one of the nameless, faceless masses who could say that she’d slept with Dr. Romeo. Except that she hadn’t actually slept with him; she hadn’t even been horizontal with him. No, she’d been so willing and eager, she’d gotten naked with him in a supply closet. Or mostly naked, anyway.

She’d just wanted to feel as if she wasn’t completely alone for a few minutes. And while it was true that he’d helped her feel not just connected and desired but incredibly good, now that she was home again she had to face the truth: those stolen moments in the closet didn’t change anything.

She was still alone.

But at least there was no one around to see the tears that slid down her cheeks.

Chapter Three

Wellbrook Medical Center was a privately funded clinic that provided medical services primarily to unwed mothers and their children. One of Avery’s jobs at the clinic was to talk to young women about the importance of safe sex—reminding them to protect themselves not just against unwanted pregnancies but sexually transmitted diseases. For those who missed coming in for that talk, the clinic also offered the morning-after pill, testing for pregnancy and STDs, and prenatal care.

Avery was making notes in a patient’s file when Amy set a mug of coffee on her desk. She glanced up. “Did you say something?”

“I said you seem a little preoccupied today.”

“Sorry—I was just wondering how Callie’s sister and her baby are doing. I think I’ll stop by the hospital to check on them when I’m finished here.”

“If we ever finish here,” Amy noted.

“Brenna and Tess are coming in at two,” she reminded her friend.

Amy lifted a hand to cover a yawn. “Why does two seem so far away?”

“Maybe because you had such a good time last night,” Avery teased.

Her friend smiled. “What time did you escape from the hospital?”

“It wasn’t long after midnight.”

“It didn’t take you that long to deliver a baby.”

Avery shook her head. “No, but the ER was crazy, so I stuck around for a while to help out, which is how I ended up delivering Callie’s sister’s baby, too.”

“You missed a great party,” Amy told her.

“I’m sure I did,” she acknowledged.

Her friend sighed. “You could at least sound a little disappointed—I really think you would have liked Nolan.”

“You say that about every one of Ben’s friends that you try to set me up with.”

“And I remain optimistic that, one of these days, you’ll actually go out with one of them.”

“I’m focusing on my career right now.”

“I get that, but your focus shouldn’t be to the exclusion of all else.”

“It’s not.”

“When was the last time you were on a date?” Amy asked, then she shook her head. “No—forget that question. When was the last time you had sex?”

Last night.

Not that she was going to admit as much to her friend. Of course, even if she did tell Amy the truth, it was unlikely her friend would believe it. Because Avery Wallace didn’t have casual sex, and she definitely didn’t succumb to the obvious charms of sexy doctors like Justin Garrett.

“Why is it that everyone wants to talk about sex today?” she countered, in an effort to divert her friend’s attention.

“Because a lot of people got a little crazy and a little careless last night,” Amy admitted. “I don’t understand it—we give out condoms for free at the front desk. Why aren’t people using them?”

“Don’t you remember what it was like to be a teenager? All of the emotions and the hormones?”

“I remember the heady thrill of first love and the exciting rush of sexual desire,” Amy acknowledged. “But I was never so overcome by lust—or so intoxicated—that I would have had sex without a condom.”

“If everyone was as smart as you, we wouldn’t have patients in the waiting room,” Avery countered.

“And since we do, I guess we’d better get back to work.”

So they did, and a steady stream of patients kept them both busy until Brenna and Tess arrived shortly before two. Avery was almost disappointed when their colleagues showed up, because now she would have time to think about the hard truths her earlier conversation with Amy had forced her to acknowledge.

Most notably that it wasn’t only teenagers who made impulsive and stupid decisions about sex—otherwise responsible and intelligent adults could sometimes be just as impulsive and stupid. As she and Justin had proved last night.

Justin often felt as if he spent more time at the hospital than he did in his own apartment, which made him question the amount of rent he paid every month for his apartment overlooking Memorial Park. For the past few years, his parents had been urging him to buy a house—“an investment in real estate”—but Justin didn’t see the point in paying more money for more rooms he wasn’t going to use.

Besides, his apartment was conveniently located near the hospital—which he particularly appreciated when he had the early-morning shift. And the late-evening shift. And especially after a double shift.

When he was home, he felt comfortable in his space. It was his sanctuary from the craziness of the world. Four days into the New Year, he was enjoying that sanctuary—until his phone rang, indicating a visitor downstairs. He scowled when he glanced at the monitor and recognized the young woman in the lobby, curiously looking around the foyer as she waited for him to respond to the buzzer.

“Yeah?” he said, his tone deliberately unwelcoming.

“Girl Scout cookie delivery,” she responded cheerfully.

“If you expect someone to buy that story, you should wear the uniform,” he told her.

“Is that what it takes to get an invite to your apartment—a short skirt and a sash?”

“Jeez, no. I’m not a perv.”

“You’re also not opening the door,” his unexpected visitor pointed out.

With a barely suppressed sigh, he punched in the code to release the lock so that she could enter. A few minutes later, there was a knock on his door.

“What are you doing here, Nora?”

His half sister moved past him into the apartment. “You’re not a believer in traditional Southern hospitality, are you?”

“Please, come in,” he said, his sarcasm contradicting the invitation of his words. “Let me take your coat and offer you some sweet tea.”

Ignoring his tone, she took off her coat and handed it to him. “Sweet tea would be nice.”

He hung her coat on one of the hooks behind the door. “Sorry, I’m all out.”

“A glass of wine?”

“Are you old enough to drink?”

“You know I’m only eleven years younger than you.”

He snapped his fingers. “That’s right—I was playing Little League when my father was screwing your mother.”

“Which isn’t my fault any more than it’s yours,” she pointed out.

He sighed, because she was right. And because he knew his mother would be appalled if she ever found out that Nora had come to visit and he’d been less than welcoming.

His mother was another innocent devastated by her husband’s infidelity, although she had forgiven John Garrett a long time ago—before anyone knew that the affair had resulted in a child. And even after learning about the existence of her husband’s illegitimate daughter, Ellen had gone out of her way to make Nora feel she was a part of their family—efforts that the woman in question had mostly resisted.

“Red or white?” Justin asked her now.

“Red, please.”

She followed him into the kitchen, settling herself on a stool at the island while he uncorked a bottle of Napa Valley merlot. He slid a glass across the counter to her and decided—what the hell?—he wasn’t on call, and poured a second glass for himself.

“Thank you.” She took a tentative sip, then set the glass down. “I’m looking for a job.”

“And you want to cash in your DNA results for a cushy office at Garrett Furniture,” he guessed.

She shook her head. “I have no interest in your father’s company.”

“Isn’t he your father, too?”

“Well, yes, but that was more by accident than design.”

He nodded in acknowledgment as she sipped her wine again.

“Besides, an office job would bore me to tears,” she told him. “I like to work with people—that’s why I became a registered physical therapist.”

Which he already knew but had no intention of revealing to her, because she’d then want to know how and why he knew it, and he didn’t intend to share that information. Yet.

“Where’d you go to school?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know the answer to that question, either, as he lifted his own glass to his lips.

“The University of Texas at San Antonio. Graduated with honors.” She opened her purse and took out an envelope, offering it to him. “My résumé.”

“What do you want me to do with this?”

“Look at it and, if you think it’s warranted, consider writing a letter of recommendation for me.”

“Why me?”

“Because there’s an opening at Mercy Hospital and the Garrett name carries a considerable amount of weight there.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t go straight to my mother,” he commented. “If you’ve done your homework, you’re aware that she’s on the hiring committee.”

“I’m aware,” she admitted.

“So why didn’t you knock on her door?” he challenged.

She traced the base of her glass with her finger. “Because a part of me was afraid she’d refuse to give a recommendation...and another part was afraid she would give it.”

He shook his head. “Every time I think I have you figured out, you say or do something that surprises me.”

“I don’t need you to understand me—I just need a letter.”

“I can’t give you that without some understanding of who you are and whether or not you’ll fit in with the rest of the staff.”

She slid off her seat. “Then I guess I should be going.”

He stepped in front of her, blocking her path to the door. “Why Charisma? Why Mercy?”

“Why not?”

“You didn’t come here just for a job.”

She met his gaze evenly. “I have family here.”

“Speaking of family, what do Patrick and Connor think of your decision to move to North Carolina?”

Her eyes narrowed at the mention of her brothers. “What do you know about Patrick and Connor?”

“Quite a lot, actually,” he told her. “Patrick is twenty-seven, single and a deputy in the Echo Ridge sheriff’s department. Connor is twenty-eight, a graduate of the Thurgood Marshall School of Law currently employed as a prosecuting attorney, which is probably why he’s trying to keep his relationship with a certain young woman who works as a public defender under wraps.”

“You had my family investigated?” she demanded, her question filled with icy fury.

“Does that bother you?” he challenged. “Does it seem wrong that some stranger could come along and meddle in the lives of the people who matter the most to you?”

“Touché, Dr. Garrett.” She reached past him to pick up her glass and tossed back the rest of her wine. “I guess that means I’m not going to get a recommendation.”

“I’m not saying no,” he told her. Because he was a firm believer in the old adage about keeping friends close and enemies closer, and he wasn’t yet sure which category his half sister fit into. “I just want some more information.”

“My life’s an open book—and one that you’ve apparently already read.”

He ignored her sarcasm. “Can you meet me at the hospital tomorrow?”

“What time?”

“Two o’clock. By the fountain in the courtyard.”

She nodded. “I’ll be there.”

He followed her back to the foyer and plucked her coat off the hook just as another knock sounded. Since no one had buzzed from the lobby, he assumed that it was probably Lianne from across the hall. For a woman who was always baking something—muffins or cookies or banana bread—it baffled him that his neighbor never had all of the ingredients she needed. His brother, Ryan, liked to tease that Lianne asking to borrow sugar was code for her wanting to give him some sugar, but her flirtations were mostly harmless.

But when he opened up the door, it wasn’t Lianne on the other side. It was Avery Wallace.

“You’re on your way out,” she said, noting the coat in his hand.

He shook his head. “It’s not mine.”

Her eyes flickered past him to Nora, then to the island with the bottle of wine and two glasses. Her color went frosty and her tone, when she spoke again, had chilled by several degrees. “I’m sorry—I obviously should have called first.”

He turned to hand the coat to Nora, whose gaze was openly curious as it shifted from him to his new guest and back again. Clearly she was hoping for an introduction, but he wasn’t inclined to make it.

“I’ll talk to you later,” Avery said, already turning away.

He caught her arm. “You can stay. Nora’s on her way out.”

Thankfully, Nora didn’t have to be told twice. She slipped past him. “I’ll see you at two o’clock tomorrow.”

He nodded, pulling Avery through the door before closing it.

She tugged her arm out of his grasp, looking uncertain and slightly disapproving. “She’s a little young for you, isn’t she?”

“I don’t know,” he said mildly. “How young is too young to be my sister?”

“Your—” she looked back at the door through which Nora had departed “—sister?”

He nodded.

She frowned. “I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“Neither did I until seven months ago.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” she mused.

“I’d tell you about it sometime, but you barely stick around long enough to finish a consult never mind an actual conversation.”

She flushed but did not respond.

“So why are you here?” he asked. And then, because he couldn’t resist ruffling her feathers a bit, he said “Did you come to count the notches on my bedposts?”

She sent him a scathing look. “You said you don’t have bedposts.”

“Because I don’t,” he confirmed. “Which I’d be happy to prove to you if you come down the hall with me and—”

She cut him off by shoving an envelope against his chest. “This is why I’m here.”

He held her gaze for a long minute before he opened the flap and pulled out a single page. He immediately recognized the logo of Charisma Medical Laboratories at the top, then saw her name in the “patient name” box. “What is this?”

“You did get that MD behind your name from medical school, didn’t you?”

“Okay, I guess what I should have asked is ‘why is this?’”

“New Year’s Eve.”

His brows lifted.

She huffed out a breath. “I should have figured you’d make me spell it out. We didn’t just have sex, Garrett. We had unprotected sex.”

Justin nodded soberly. While he had no objections to casual sex, he was never careless about protection. Not since that one time when he was a teenager. That one time—one forgotten condom and one terrifying pregnancy false alarm—had been enough to scare the bejesus out of him and make him swear that he would never be caught unprepared again.

And he never had—until he’d found himself in a hospital supply closet with Avery. Then everything had happened so fast, and his desperate need for her had overridden everything else.

“I’m sorry,” he said, because although the words were grossly inadequate they were also true.

“Obviously neither of us was thinking clearly that night or what happened between us never would have happened,” she said.

He wondered how it was that—despite all the other thoughts screaming in his head—he could be amused by such a prim remark delivered in her characteristically cool tone. Wanting to shake some of that cool, he stepped closer to her.

“We had sex, Avery. Incredible...mind-blowing...ground-shaking sex.”

“I was there,” she acknowledged, her gaze remaining fixed on the ceramic tile floor. “I know what happened.”

He tipped her chin up. “So why can’t you say it?”

She jerked her head away. “Because I’m embarrassed.”

“Why?”

“Because I used to take pride in the fact that I was one of probably only a handful of women on staff at the hospital who had not slept with Dr. Romeo—and I can’t say that anymore.”

He’d grown accustomed to the nickname so that it didn’t bother him anymore. Not that he would acknowledge, anyway. “Honey, I haven’t slept with that many women who work there.”

“I don’t care,” she insisted. “Or I wouldn’t care, except that now I’m one of them.”

“It’s not as if I’ve been walking around wearing a sign—I Melted Dr. Wall-ice.”

She glared at him. “This isn’t funny.”

“I agree,” he said. “Nor is it anything to be ashamed of. We’re two unattached, consenting adults who gave in to a mutual and compelling attraction.”

“We had unprotected sex.”

He nodded. “My bad. I’m not in the habit of carrying condoms in my scrub shirt,” he said, attempting a casualness he did not feel. “But that still doesn’t explain—” he held up the lab report “—this.”

“I wanted to reassure you that there’s no reason for you to worry—” she bit down on her lower lip “—on my side, I mean.”

“But you’re worried about mine,” he realized.

He couldn’t blame her for being concerned. He was well aware of his reputation around the hospital—and well aware that it had been greatly exaggerated. That knowledge had never bothered him before, but now, seeing Avery’s misery and distress, he wished he’d clarified a few things. Or a lot of things.

Of course, it was too late now. She’d obviously made up her mind about him and nothing he said was going to change it. He put the lab report back into the envelope and returned it to her. “Most of the other women I’ve been with just want to cuddle after sex.”

“Most of the other women are why I’d like some quid pro quo.”

He nodded. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”

Chapter Four

In retrospect, Avery probably could have handled the situation better, but the whole experience with Justin was way outside her comfort zone. She wasn’t great with personal relationships in general, and men like Justin—not that there were many men like Justin—flustered her beyond belief.

He was so totally confident and unapologetically sexy, and completely aware of the effect he had on people. Especially women. It was why, for most of the three and a half years she’d worked at Mercy Hospital, she’d put as much distance between them as possible.

Of course, distance wasn’t always possible. There were times that they needed to consult and collaborate with respect to the care of patients, and at those times, she did what had to be done, careful to maintain a calm facade and professional demeanor. But when she had a choice, she chose to stay far away from his orbit, because she didn’t trust herself to resist the magnetic pull that he seemed to exert on women without even trying. She hadn’t been able to resist it on New Year’s Eve. She hadn’t wanted to resist him.

When she’d realized that they’d had sex without a condom, she’d panicked a little. Or maybe a lot. And then she’d started to think about all the possible repercussions of having unprotected sex with a man who’d had numerous other sexual partners. As a doctor, she would have been irresponsible to ignore his history, especially after she’d already been irresponsible in having unprotected sex with him.

She didn’t see much of Justin over the next few days after her visit to his apartment, which wasn’t unusual. Depending on their schedules, she might cross paths with him numerous times in a day or not at all for several shifts. What was unusual was that she found herself looking for him, wondering when she might see him and even the wondering filled her stomach with an uncomfortable fluttery feeling.

When she did see him, his demeanor toward her was nothing but professional, and she strove to treat him with the same courtesy. But her awareness of him was heightened now, and whenever he was near, her body stirred with not just memories but longing.

Friday afternoon, she’d just finished a consult regarding the course of action for a multiple pregnancy when he caught her in the conference room.

“I’ve got those test results you wanted,” he told her.

She’d been so focused on her work that it took Avery a moment to realize what he was talking about. But when she did, the knots that had been in her belly since New Year’s Day tightened.

She looked at him expectantly. His statement suggested that he intended to share the results with her, but his hands were empty. “Are you actually going to let me see them?”

“Of course,” he agreed. “At dinner tonight.”

She sighed. “Dr. Garrett—”

“Dr. Wallace,” he countered, his tone amused.

“I’m not going to have dinner with you.”

“Yes, you are,” he said confidently. “Because you want to hold the lab report in your hands and meticulously scrutinize every letter and digit.”

She did, of course. Because she needed to be sure. But she didn’t believe he, as a medical professional, would really hold back the results. Certainly not if there was any reason for her to be concerned.

“You’re clean,” she decided, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “You wouldn’t be playing games otherwise.”

“And if I’d told you I was clean, that our romantic—” she snorted derisively at that, while he narrowed his gaze and continued “—liaison was the first time I’ve forgotten a condom since I was a horny, fumbling seventeen-year-old, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not,” she admitted.

“Which is why there has to be a tiny niggling of doubt in your mind,” he said. “Barely a seed right now, but if you don’t hold those results in your hand, that seed will grow...and grow.”

She glared at him, because dammit, he was right. “What time did you want to eat?”

His smile was smug. “Seven o’clock. Valentino’s.”

She shook her head. “Seven o’clock works, but I’ll cook.”

“I’d be flattered by your offer to cook for me if I didn’t suspect your true motivation is that being seen in public with me might damage your reputation.”

“I suspect you’re just as worried about your own, considering that I’m not your usual type.”

“And what is my usual type?” he asked curiously.

“Ready, willing and able.”

“You’ve got me there,” he acknowledged. “But then it’s not really true to say you’re not my type, because you were all of those things when we were in SC together.”

She frowned. “SC?”

Despite the fact that they were alone in the room, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I decided that should be our code for the supply closet. That way, if anyone overhears us talking, they’ll think we stole away to South Carolina together rather than a six-by-eight utility room.”

“No worries,” she told him. “We’re not going to be talking about it. Not after tonight.”

“Seven o’clock at your place?” he prompted.

She nodded and gave him her address.

“You’re not worried that being alone with me will tempt you to jump my bones again?”

“I didn’t ‘jump your bones’ the first time,” she denied hotly.

“You made the first move.”

“It was a kiss. Simple, casual, friendly.”

“It was a spark,” he countered. “And considering how skillfully you’ve dodged me for more than three years because of the red-hot attraction between us, you had to know that one little spark would ignite a firestorm.”

Thankfully, he didn’t stick around for a response, because she didn’t know what to say to that. He was right—for more than three years, she had dodged him and the uncomfortable feelings he stirred inside of her. And as soon as she got through this dinner tonight, she would go back to dodging him again.

It was the only way to ensure that the red-hot attraction didn’t lead to her getting burned.

Justin immediately recognized the address that Avery had given him because it was on the opposite side of Memorial Park from his own place. He knew their dinner wasn’t technically a date, but he picked up flowers for her, anyway, and had the bouquet in hand when he buzzed her apartment at precisely seven o’clock—just as she rushed in through the front door.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I got caught up at the clinic so I’m running a little bit behind schedule.”

“That’s okay,” he said.

She fumbled with her keys. “Why don’t you come back in half an hour?” she suggested. “By that time, I should have everything well under way for dinner.”

“Because I’m here now and I can help,” he told her.

“I invited you to eat dinner not make dinner,” she pointed out, clearly unhappy that he wasn’t going away and letting her control the timetable.

“I don’t mind.” He followed her into the elevator, where she stabbed a finger at the button for the fifth floor.

It was a corner unit of the U-shaped building, with a view of the tennis courts and pool. The interior was exquisitely—and he suspected professionally—decorated, with comfortable furniture in neutral colors, framed generic prints on the walls and a bookcase filled with medical texts. They were no personal touches in the room. No magazines or candles or decorative vases or bowls.

She went directly into the kitchen and, when he followed, he saw that the galley-style cooking area was equally pristine—the cupboards were white with simple steel handles. The white quartz countertops were bare of clutter except for a single-serve coffeemaker. The deep stainless steel sink was literally spotless, without even a spoon or a cloth in sight.

“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked.

“What are you having?”

“Water.” She opened a cupboard to take out a glass and filled it with ice then water from the dispenser in the door of the refrigerator.

“That works for me,” he said.

She turned to hand him the first glass—and nearly dumped the contents all over him when she discovered that he was directly behind her.

Thankfully, he caught it before it tipped too far. “Relax, Avery.”

She managed a strangled laugh as she filled a second for herself, drinking down half of it before setting it aside.

“We can go out if you’re not comfortable with me being here.”

“It’s not you—or not specifically you,” she amended. “It’s just that I’m not used to other people being in my space.”

“Apparently,” he noted, offering her the bouquet.

“Oh.” She looked at the bright blooms as if she wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

“They probably want some water, too,” he told her.

“Of course,” she agreed, moving to the cupboard above the fridge to pull down a clear glass vase.

She seemed more comfortable when she was doing something, and she kept her attention focused resolutely on the task while she filled the container with water, trimmed the stems of the flowers, then arranged them in the vase.

“These are really beautiful,” she said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She carried the vase to the dining room and set it in the middle of the table. When she returned to the kitchen, she pulled a plastic container—neatly labeled and dated—out of the fridge, then dumped the contents into a glass bowl. He glanced over her shoulder at the thick red sauce with chunks of sausage and peppers, onions, mushrooms and tomatoes.

“That looks really good,” he said.

“I don’t always feel like cooking when I get home from work, so a couple of times a month I go on a cooking binge where I make all kinds of things that I can throw into containers in the freezer for quick meals later on.”

“What do you make besides pasta sauce?” he asked.

She bent to retrieve a large pot from the cupboard beside the stove, then filled it from the tap and set it on the back burner. “Enchiladas, jambalaya, chicken and broccoli—”

He must have instinctively cringed at that, because she laughed, the unexpected outburst of humor surprising both of them and easing some of the tension.

“You don’t like broccoli?” she guessed.

“Much to my mother’s everlasting chagrin,” he admitted.

“That’s too bad, because my chicken and broccoli casserole is delicious.”

“Well, it’s been my experience that the right company makes any meal taste better, so it’s possible I could change my mind if you wanted to make it for me sometime.”

She smiled at that. “Let’s see if we get through this meal before making any other plans.”

He sipped his water as she went back to the fridge and retrieved various items for a salad. She washed the head of lettuce under the tap, then spread the leaves out on a towel to dry. It was apparent that she had a system and she lined up her ingredients and utensils on the counter as if they were surgical instruments.

“I know how to chop and dice,” he told her.

She glanced up. “What?”

“I’m offering to help make the salad.”

“Oh. Thanks, but it’s not really a two-person job.”

And he could tell that the idea of letting someone else help—and mess with her system—made her twitchy.

“You’re right,” he agreed. “So why don’t you let me handle it while you go do whatever you usually do when you get home from work and don’t have someone waiting in your lobby?”

She hesitated a minute before admitting, “I was hoping for a quick shower.”

“So go take a shower,” he suggested.

“I will,” she decided. “After I get this finished—”

He took her by the shoulders and turned her away from the counter. “Go take your shower—I’ll take care of this.”

She still looked skeptical. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Of course, I don’t mind. But if you’d rather I forget about the lettuce and come wash your back—”

“I can wash my back,” she interjected. “You handle the salad.”

As he tore up the leaves, he tried not to think about Avery down the hall in the bathroom, stripping out of her clothes. As he chopped up celery and peppers, he ordered himself not to envision the spray from the shower pouring over her sexy, naked body. As he sliced cucumber and tomato, he didn’t let himself imagine any soapy lather sliding over her breasts, her hips, her thighs.

But damn, all the not thinking, envisioning and imagining made him hot and achy. He shoved the finished salad back into the refrigerator and put the cutting board and utensils in the dishwasher. He could still hear the water running in the bathroom, and the mental images he refused to allow continued to tease at his mind.

Desperate for a distraction from his prurient fantasies, he decided to give himself a quick tour of her apartment. There was the spacious and stark living room, which he’d glimpsed upon entry into her apartment, then the kitchen and the dining room that was connected to the kitchen. The first door in the hall was a second bathroom. Like the kitchen, white was the color scheme in here, dominating the floor tile, the fixtures, even the towels and the liquid soap in the dispenser on the pedestal sink.

Beside the bathroom was a spare bedroom that she’d set up as a home office. Two walls were covered in bookshelves made of pale wood and neatly filled with yet more medical texts and journals. Her desk, also in pale wood, was just as ruthlessly organized—with pens, pencils and highlighters neatly lined up in distinctly separate containers.

The Twilight Zone theme started to play quietly in his head. There were no real personal touches anywhere. No indication of her interests or hobbies or insights into her personality, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think her career was the sum total of who she was.

But he did know better. He’d kissed her and touched her, and she’d responded with a passion that had taken his breath away. She’d wrapped herself around him as he’d thrust into her body, shuddering and sighing and completely coming undone. Yeah, there was a lot more to Avery than the impersonal and sterile environment of her home indicated.

A spot of green caught the corner of his eye, and he smiled when he noted the stubby plant on the windowsill, recognizing it as some kind of cactus. Even her plant carried the same hands-off vibe that she did. Except that beneath her prickly exterior, she was warm and soft and shockingly uninhibited.

The challenge, of course, was getting past that exterior, and Justin suspected that scaling her walls once would only make a subsequent breach that much more difficult. He also realized he didn’t want to breach her defenses—he wanted to tear them down completely.

He turned away from the cactus in the window to return to the kitchen. That was when he saw it. Another bookcase tucked into an alcove beside the door. He moved in for a closer inspection. The books here were mostly classical literature and popular fiction, with some surprisingly racy titles in the mix, all of them arranged alphabetically by author.

On top of the bookshelf was a framed photograph—the only one he’d seen in the whole apartment—of a little boy and a little girl. The picture had been snapped from behind as the two children walked, hand in hand, away from whoever was in possession of the camera and toward the iconic castle at Disney World. He instinctively knew the children were Avery and her brother, Ryder, even before he looked closely enough to see their names embroidered on the matching Mickey Mouse ears they wore.

It was a snapshot of her childhood, a brief glimpse of a happy moment somehow made more poignant by the realization that she couldn’t have been more than eight years old in the photo and there were no other, later pictures to be found anywhere else in her apartment—or at least in any of the rooms he’d visited so far.

“What are you doing in here?” Avery demanded.

He glanced over, his heart doing a slow roll inside his chest when he saw her standing in the doorway, looking so naturally beautiful and sexy. Her face was scrubbed free of makeup, her hair had been released from its habitual ponytail and skimmed her shoulders. She’d dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a long, fuzzy V-neck sweater in a pretty shade of blue that almost exactly matched her eyes. Her feet were bare, her toenails painted a bold crimson color that seemed out of character for her but which he knew was not.

“I was looking for you,” he finally answered her question.

She arched a brow. “You didn’t trust I’d find my way back to the kitchen?”

“No, I meant I was looking for a glimpse of you somewhere—anywhere—in this sterile apartment.”

She didn’t blink at his criticism. Nor had he expected her to. It wouldn’t be nearly as much fun to ruffle her feathers if they ruffled easily.

“Remind me not to give you the name of my decorator,” she responded lightly.

“I didn’t think the white was your choice.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” she asked, in a deliberate change of topic.

“I think I did.” He held up the photo.

She took the frame from his hand and carefully set it back into place on the bookshelf. “Dinner will be ready in—” she glanced at the watch on her wrist “—six and a half minutes.”

He smiled. “Precisely six and a half? Not six or seven but six and a half?”

“The pasta takes twelve minutes to cook and I dropped it into the pot approximately five and a half minutes ago.”

“What would happen if you forgot to put the timer on and cooked it for—” he gasped dramatically “—thirteen minutes?”

“Then we’d have to eat overcooked spaghetti,” she said matter-of-factly, but she frowned at the prospect.

He shook his head. “Where did you go to medical school?”

She seemed startled by the abrupt change of topic but, after a brief hesitation, she responded, “Harvard.”

“Figures.”

“I actually wanted to go to Stanford, but my parents thought Harvard was more prestigious.”

“I bet you graduated summa cum laude, too, didn’t you?”

“So? I worked hard and studied hard.”

“I’m sure you did,” he agreed. “And I have no doubt you’re a better doctor because of it. But sometimes, instead of blasting a tunnel through a mountain, you should climb to the top and enjoy the view.”

“If you have a point, I’m not seeing it,” she told him.

“My point is that you’re obviously dedicated, focused and driven, and those are great attributes in the practice of medicine. But when they carry over into your personal life, it suggests that something happened that compels you to rigidly and ruthlessly control every aspect of your life.”

“You’re reading an awful lot into the fact that I use a kitchen timer when I cook my pasta.”

“It’s not just the pasta,” he told her. “You have your highlighters aligned in the spectrum of the rainbow.”

“I didn’t realize being organized was a character flaw.”

“I’m the same way when it comes to every examination and procedure I perform in the ER,” he admitted. “But when I walk out of the hospital at the end of my shift, I let that go and relax.”

“Good for you.”

“You should let go a little, too,” he suggested. “You’re wound up like a torsion spring and one of these days, all of the energy trapped inside of you is going to let loose. Or maybe that is what happened in the supply closet.”

“That’s a better explanation than anything I could come up with,” she acknowledged. “And maybe, after more than two years, it was time to let loose a little.”

His brows lifted. “Are you telling me that it was more than two years since you’d had sex?”

“I’m sure it’s not some kind of celibacy record.”

“Sorry, it’s just that—wow. Two years.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”

She rolled her eyes. “We both know you can’t imagine—that’s why I wanted the test.”

Chapter Five

“Right. The test.”

For a few minutes, Justin had forgotten the reason he was here—the only reason Avery was making dinner for him.

As if on cue, a buzzer sounded from the kitchen.

“That’s the pasta,” she said, automatically turning away.

He caught her hand, halting her before she reached the door. She glanced over her shoulder, a quizzical expression on her face.

“I just wanted to say thanks—for offering to cook for me tonight.”

“You’re welcome,” she said cautiously.

“I know that you don’t really approve of me—”

“And I know you aren’t really concerned about my approval.”

He lifted a shoulder. “But you should know that only about half of the rumors that circulate around the hospital are true.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said.

“And while I can’t control what other people say, I don’t kiss and tell. Ever.”

“I know,” she admitted.

The timer in the kitchen buzzed again.

“I really need to get that pasta off the stove.”

But he still didn’t release her hand and there was a mischievous glint in his eyes that made her uneasy.

“The noodles are going to be overcooked,” she said again, and that was when she realized what he was doing. “You’re stalling me on purpose.”

“Why would I do that?” he asked innocently.

“To wind up my torsion spring.”

“People don’t actually have torsion springs—I only said you were like a torsion spring.”

“If you don’t let me get back to the kitchen right now, I’m going to let loose all of my tension in your direction.”

He grinned. “Promises, promises.”

But this time when she turned away, he let her go.

She had a colander in the sink and a distinctly unhappy look on her face when he returned to the kitchen. She dumped the noodles into the bowl and carried them to the table she must have set when she got out of the shower.

“If dinner is ruined, it’s your fault,” she told him.

“Dinner is not ruined,” he promised, retrieving the salad from the fridge.

But she still looked skeptical as she scooped penne out of the serving bowl and into her pasta bowl. She ladled sauce on the top and waited until he had done the same before she picked up her fork.

“Did your mother teach you how to cook?” he asked, after he’d sampled his first mouthful.

She shook her head. “My mother is a senior research supervisor at the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta—she can isolate a pathogen but I doubt she knows how to pound or purée.”

“So who taught you how to cook?”

“I took a few recreational cooking classes at a small culinary institute in Boston while I was doing my residency.”

“Did you graduate with top honors from there, too?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t for grades, it was for fun.”

“For fun?” he asked skeptically.

Her lips curved, just a little. “It was more fun than starving.”

“Well, your pasta gets top marks from me,” he told her.

“The sauce was good,” she allowed. “The noodles were overcooked.”

“Maybe by about thirty seconds,” he acknowledged, smiling at her.

She smiled back, a wordless acceptance of the truce he’d offered. “Okay, maybe I could learn to relax a little bit.”

“I’d be happy to teach you.”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to be that relaxed.”

He chuckled, unoffended.

“I didn’t make anything for dessert, but I do have ice cream,” she told him.

“I don’t think I have room for dessert—even ice cream,” he told her.

“It’s cookies ’n’ cream,” she said, in a tone that suggested no one could refuse her favorite flavor.

But he shook his head. “No, thanks.”

When she started to stack the dishes, he pulled the lab report out of his pocket and slid it across the table to her.

Avery’s heart pounded as she unfolded the page.

Her eyes skimmed the document quickly the first time, then again, more slowly. She’d been right. Just as she’d suspected, his results were all clear.

She exhaled a grateful sigh. There was nothing to worry about. But she’d needed to be sure—just in case there were other repercussions from that night.

“That’s it, then,” she said, almost giddy with relief as she pushed away from the table to help clear it. “There’s no need for either of us to ever again mention what happened on New Year’s Eve.”

He leaned back against the counter, holding her gaze for a long moment before he finally asked, “Are you sure about that?”

She hugged the salad dressing bottles she carried closer to her chest and eyed him warily.

“There are other potential consequences of unprotected sex,” he reminded her.

She nibbled on her lower lip, as if she didn’t know where he was going with the conversation. Because she hadn’t expected him to go there, she hadn’t expected the possibility to cross his mind. And maybe it hadn’t. “What do you mean?”

He continued to hold her gaze, his own unwavering. “I mean a baby,” he told her. “Is it possible you could be pregnant?”

She shook her head as she turned away from him to put the dressings back in the fridge. “I don’t think so.”

“That’s not very reassuring.”

She couldn’t see him, but she could hear the scowl in his voice. “Well, that’s the best I can do right now,” she admitted, shifting around some items in the door of the refrigerator to avoid facing him.

“You’re not on the pill or the patch?” he pressed.

“No.”

“You didn’t take the morning-after pill?”

She shook her head.

He nudged her away from the fridge and firmly closed the door. “Why not?”

“I—I didn’t think about it.”

His hands settled on the counter behind him, his fingers curled over the edge. “You’re a doctor, Avery. You know how babies are made—and you know there are steps that can be taken to prevent a baby from being made, even after the fact.”

She felt her cheeks burn, but she nodded. “You’re right. And I did get a package of morning-after pills from the clinic—the morning after.”

“So why didn’t you take them?”

“Because when I stopped at the hospital after I left the clinic, to check on Callie’s sister and her baby, something inside of me...yearned.”

She’d hoped for some kind of understanding, but the darkness of his scowl warned her otherwise.

“I know it sounds stupid,” she continued to explain, “but that’s how I felt. Then I got home and I sat at the table with the package in front of me, and I stared at it for a really long time. Because the possibility of an unplanned pregnancy completely freaked me out, but the possibility of a baby...somehow the possibility of a baby didn’t freak me out at all.”

She looked at him, silently begging for his forgiveness—or at least acceptance. “I mean, I’m not a teenager, and I do want to have a baby someday, so I decided that if I did get pregnant, having a baby might not be the worst thing that could happen to me at this point in my life.”

“Not the worst thing that could happen to you,” he echoed, pinning her with his hard and unyielding gaze. “Did you give any consideration to what it might mean to me? Did you think, for even one minute, about how a baby would affect my life?”

“No.” She whispered the admission, ashamed that it was true. She hadn’t thought about him at all. She hadn’t thought about anything but how the possibility—minuscule as it might be—of having a baby filled her heart and soul with joy. “All I could think about, all that mattered, was that I might finally have the baby I’ve always wanted.”

“You were trying to get pregnant?”

“No! I didn’t plan any of what happened between us that night,” she promised him. “But when I realized it was possible that we might have conceived a child, I just didn’t do anything to stop it.”

“A decision I’m still struggling to understand,” he told her.

She nodded, acknowledging that she owed him a more thorough explanation of her actions. “When I graduated from medical school, I had a fiancé and a five-year plan.”

His brows lifted at that, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue.

“The plan included a wedding and, a few years after that, a baby. Then my fiancé decided to go ahead with that plan with someone else, and I moved on with my life without him.”

“And moved to Charisma,” he guessed.

She nodded again. “I’ve helped a lot of women deliver a lot of babies, and I always believed that someday it would be my turn. But I’m thirty-two years old and maybe my biological clock isn’t actually ticking just yet, but that someday doesn’t seem to be getting any closer.”

“You still had no right to make a decision that could affect both of our futures without talking to me,” he told her.

“I know,” she admitted. “But I promise you, if it turns out that I am pregnant, I will take full and complete responsibility for the baby.”

“You don’t want anything from me?” he challenged. “Not child support? Not even my name on the birth certificate?”

She shook her head, eager to give him the reassurance he seemed to be seeking. “Nothing,” she confirmed. “No one will even need to know that you’re the baby’s father.”

“Which only proves you don’t know me nearly as well as you think you do.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that if all you wanted was a sperm donor, you should have gone to a clinic.”

“Hey, I didn’t plan for this, either,” she reminded him hotly. “I didn’t seduce you or sabotage birth control. We both acted impulsively and if it turns out that I am pregnant—and that’s still a pretty big if at this point—it will be the culmination of various factors that neither of us could have predicted.”

“When will you know?”

Her cheeks burned. Somehow, talking about her monthly cycle with him seemed even more intimate than what they’d done in the supply closet. “Sometime in the next seven to ten days.”

“Okay,” he said. “So between now and then, we’re going to spend as much time together as possible.”

She frowned. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“It’s absolutely necessary,” he told her. “Partly so that the people around us—friends, family, coworkers—start to see us as a couple. But mostly, and much more importantly, if you are pregnant, we need to know one another a lot better in order to coparent our child.”

She stared at him, horrified. “Coparent?”

“I might not have had any say in the choices you’ve made up to this point, honey, but I promise you, I’ll be involved in any decision making that takes place going forward.”

He kept his eyes on hers, implacable and unyielding. “If you are pregnant—you don’t just get a baby. You get me, too.”

His words had sounded more like a threat than a promise, but Avery decided not to worry too much about what Justin had said in the heat of the moment. She understood that he was angry—and that he had reason to be. They’d both forgotten about birth control on New Year’s Eve, but she’d unilaterally decided to accept the possible risk of pregnancy.

And maybe it was foolish to want a child under the current circumstances, but she couldn’t deny that she did. Even if this wasn’t the way she’d envisioned it might someday happen, she refused to have any regrets. She had no illusions that being a single mother would be easy, but she was fortunate to have a job she enjoyed along with a steady income that would pay her bills. She had a lot of patients who lived under much more difficult circumstances on a daily basis.

She’d seen Justin frequently in the week that had passed since the night they’d had dinner at her apartment—and he’d made a point of being seen with her as often as possible—but she’d managed to keep their conversations mostly short and impersonal.

The prospect of coparenting with him made her more than a little uneasy, but there was no point in worrying about that unless and until her pregnancy was confirmed. And even then, nine months was a lot of time. She was confident his determination to be involved would wane long before their baby was born. Maybe that was an unfair assumption to make considering how attentive and solicitous he’d been, but he had a notoriously short attention span when it came to his relationships with women.

She could have taken a test already. The presence of hCG, the hormone that indicated pregnancy, could be found in very low levels within seven days after conception. But she wasn’t ready to confirm her pregnancy just yet. Because as soon as she knew for certain that she was going to have a baby, she’d feel obligated to tell Justin, and she wanted to hold the excited anticipation close to her own heart for a while before he trampled all over it.

Three more days.

The words echoed in her head as she waited for sleep to come.

She awoke a few hours later with a crampy feeling low in her belly. Uneasy, she got up to go to the bathroom. That was when she realized her instincts and intuition were wrong.

She wasn’t pregnant, after all.

She crawled back under the covers of her empty bed, in her quiet apartment, and cried softly.

When Justin finally got a break and went in search of a much-needed caffeine fix, he found Avery sitting alone in the cafeteria with a single-serving tub of cookies ’n’ cream ice cream in front of her. He took his extralarge cup of coffee over to her table, wondering if the ice cream was evidence of some kind of pregnancy craving or just strange eating habits.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

She glanced up when he stopped by the chair across the table from her. “Of course not.”

He lowered himself into the empty seat. “Breakfast?” he asked, nodding toward the ice cream container.

She dropped her spoon into the melting dessert and shook her head. “I was hoping to see you today.”

He was surprised and pleased to think that she wanted to see him rather than avoid him, which was her usual modus operandi. “You were?”

“I figured you’d want to know as soon as possible that you’re off the hook.”

“Off the hook?” he echoed, the implication of her words taking a moment to sink into his brain. “Oh.”

She nodded. “I got my period last night.”

“Oh,” he said again.

“We successfully dodged that bullet.”

But her clichéd phrases and the forced cheerfulness warned him that her feelings weren’t as simple or straightforward as she wanted him to believe. “How are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m relieved, of course.”

“You are?”

She shrugged. “Sure, I’m a little disappointed, too,” she admitted. “But considering the circumstances, it’s probably for the best.”

“You’re probably right,” he agreed.

He was certainly relieved to have “dodged the bullet,” and grateful that their impulsive actions wouldn’t have long-term consequences. He liked his life just the way it was and hadn’t been thrilled to think of the adjustments he would need to make to accommodate a child. Of course he would have, if it had turned out that she was pregnant, but he was undeniably relieved that wouldn’t be necessary just yet.

“Now our lives can go back to normal,” she said, her words echoing his own thoughts.

“By normal, you mean that you intend to go back to ignoring me as much as possible,” he guessed.

“I mean that you can go back to dating a different woman every weekend,” she countered lightly.

He started to protest her erroneous assumption of his habits, but what was the point? She’d made up her mind about him a long time ago and obviously nothing he’d said or done in the past couple of weeks had changed her opinion.

Instead, he nodded his agreement. “There is that.”

“Who was that?”

Justin glanced up as Nora slid into the seat Avery had recently vacated. “What are you doing here?”

“Thanks to the introductions you made, I’ve got an interview with Jovan Crncevic,” she explained, naming the supervisor of the hospital’s physiotherapy department. “Of course, I came way too early so I decided to stop in here and grab a cup of coffee and I saw you having a deep tête-à-tête with...your girlfriend?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Ex-girlfriend?”

“No,” he said again, lifting his own cup to his lips to finish his coffee.

“Really?” she challenged. “Because I’m pretty sure that was the same woman who stopped by your condo when I was there, and there were some serious vibes between the two of you just now.”

“We work together,” he explained.

Nora laughed. “It was definitely not a work vibe.”

He scowled. “How long were you watching?”

“Long enough to know it was not a work vibe,” she assured him.

“We had a thing,” he admitted.

“A thing?”

“A shared moment of insanity.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “A thing.” She sipped her coffee. “You still hung up on her?”

“No.”

“I think I understand why it didn’t work out—she’s probably intimidated by your conversational prowess.”

“You’re a real smart-ass, you know that?”

“I always figured it was better than being a dumb ass.”

His lips twitched a little in response to that, but all he said was, “Shouldn’t you be preparing for your interview?”

She shook her head. “Even thinking about it makes me nervous—your love life is a great distraction.”

“Glad to be of service.”

“Do you want my advice?”

“No,” he said bluntly.

She frowned. “Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I don’t have any wisdom to offer. I’ve got some experience in matters of the heart.”

“Good for you.”

“I’m only telling you because I recognize the symptoms of a serious infatuation.”

“Dr. Wallace is not infatuated with me,” he assured her.

Nora laughed. “I wasn’t talking about Dr. Wallace.”

Chapter Six

Life did go back to normal—eventually.

Although Avery had lived with the possibility of a baby for only a couple of weeks, she’d wanted to be pregnant so much that she’d let her imagination run with it, and it took a few days to shake off her melancholy.

The depth of her disappointment forced her to reevaluate her life and her choices. It was time, she decided, to stop being passive and go after what she wanted. Which meant that she needed to start dating again—and actually make an effort to meet the man who might want to father her future children.

Maybe she’d even ask Amy to set her up again—as soon as she shook the exhaustion that had recently taken hold of her body and which she suspected was a result of some lingering disappointment.

“Are you up for grabbing a drink?” Amy asked, when the last patient of the day had finally exited the clinic.

“I thought you’d be anxious to get home to Henry,” Avery said, referring to her friend’s fifteen-month-old son.

“He’s spending the night with Ben’s parents.”

“So that you and your hubby can have a romantic evening together?” she guessed.

“That was the original plan,” her friend admitted. “Until his brother snagged a couple of tickets to a Canes game and asked Ben to go with him.”

“In that case, a drink sounds good.”

“And nachos?” Amy prompted hopefully.

She laughed. “Marg & Rita’s?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Avery left her white coat on the hook behind the door in her office, untied the fastener around her ponytail, brushed out her hair and added some lip gloss. A quick glance in the bathroom mirror confirmed that she looked better—but she still felt like crap.

She arrived at the restaurant first and didn’t wait for her friend. It was Friday night, which meant that if there was a table available, it wouldn’t be for long. Shortly after she was seated, the waiter brought two menus. Knowing her friend’s preferences, she ordered a Top Shelf margarita for Amy and a virgin classic for herself along with a platter of deluxe nachos.

“Sorry I’m late,” Amy said, sliding into the empty seat across the table. “Ben called as I was on my way out to remind me to watch the game so I can see him on TV.”

“Maybe we should have gone to the Bar Down,” Avery said. “No doubt the game will be on one of the screens there.”

Her friend shook her head, then smiled at the waiter who set her frosty drink in front of her. “I have less than zero interest in hockey and I’ll see Ben when he gets home.” Then she picked up her drink and tapped the rim of her glass against Avery’s. “I didn’t think this week was ever going to end.”

“It’s not over for me yet,” she said. “I’ve got morning rounds at the hospital tomorrow.”

Her friend made a face. “I’m planning to sleep in late and then have leisurely morning sex with the man of my dreams.”

“I’d be happy enough just to sleep in,” Avery told her. “I’ve been exhausted and nauseated for the past several days.”

“Maybe tequila isn’t the best medicine for that,” her friend said worriedly.

“I didn’t think so, either,” she agreed. “That’s why mine is a virgin.”

The waiter delivered their heaping platter of nachos and they both dug in.

“Exhausted and nauseated you said?” Amy queried a short while later.

“Trying not to think about that right now,” Avery told her.

“Well, I was just thinking that’s how I felt when I was pregnant with Henry.”

“I’m not pregnant,” Avery said quickly.

“I wasn’t suggesting that you were,” Amy agreed. “Unless you somehow managed to orchestrate an immaculate conception.”

When she didn’t respond to her friend’s teasing comment, Amy’s gaze narrowed. “Or is there something you’re not telling me?”

“There are a lot of things I don’t tell you,” she said.

“Such as?” Amy prompted, brushing a jalapeño off her nacho chip.

Avery glanced around to ensure there was no one they knew within hearing range, but still dropped her voice to a near whisper before confiding, “Such as the fact that I had sex with Justin Garrett.”

Amy choked on her margarita.

“When did this happen?” she asked, when she finally managed to stop coughing.

“New Year’s Eve—actually, in the early hours of the morning on New Year’s Day.”

“Oh. My. God.”

Avery nodded.

“So...” A smile teased at the corners of her friend’s mouth. “How was he?”

She took her time selecting another chip. “A colossal disappointment.”

Amy’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“No. Not really.” She sighed. “In fact, it was the single most incredible sexual experience of my life, which probably tells you more than you ever wanted to know about my sexual experience.”

“I always wondered if his reputation was exaggerated,” her friend confessed.

“It’s not,” she admitted unhappily. “And now I belong to the not-so-exclusive club that includes almost every other woman who works at the hospital.”

Her friend smiled. “Sweetie, if Dr. Romeo slept with even half the women who claim to have slept with him, he’d hardly have time to get out of bed.

“I’ve known Justin a long time,” Amy continued. “There’s a lot more to him than most people realize—and he’s not nearly as indiscriminate as his reputation would imply.”

“So you don’t believe he’d get naked with someone in a supply closet in the middle of his shift at the hospital?”

“No way,” her friend said. Then her eyes went wide. “Are you telling me that’s what happened?”

She nodded.

“Oh. My. God,” Amy said again. “You and Justin. In a supply closet. Wow.”

“It was wow,” she agreed.

“So...are you guys together now?” her friend asked hopefully.

She shook her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s Dr. Romeo and I don’t want to get involved with a man described in either of those terms.”

Amy sighed. “Your parents really did a number on you, didn’t they?”

“They taught me an important life lesson,” she countered. “Which is that two career-focused medical professionals cannot make a marriage work and definitely should not be parents.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Says the woman married to a newspaper editor.”

“I was in love with Ben long before he was a newspaper editor or I was a doctor,” Amy pointed out.

“Since I didn’t know you in high school, I’ll have to take your word for it.”

“Now—getting back to the exhausted and nauseated part of our conversation, I have to ask...were you careful?”

She felt her cheeks burn. “You’d think, being a doctor, I wouldn’t be anything else.”

Amy nodded, accurately interpreting her response as an acknowledgment that she hadn’t been. “Then is it possible that you’re pregnant?”

Avery shook her head. “I got my period last week.”

“Did you take a pregnancy test?” her friend pressed.

“I was going to,” she admitted. “And then, there didn’t seem to be any point.”

“You know as well as I do that it’s not unusual for a woman to experience some bleeding in the early months of a pregnancy.”

“It was more than that.”

“Maybe it was,” Amy acknowledged. “But I think you’ll feel better if you take a test.”

Avery nodded, though she didn’t really believe it was true.

Taking a test and confirming that she wasn’t pregnant wasn’t going to make her feel any better. It would just be one more reminder of how completely her life had gone off track.

Justin had enough experience with women to know when one was attracted to him, and it frustrated him beyond belief that Avery was continuing to deny the attraction. But that was “back to normal” as far as their relationship was concerned.

He’d wanted her when he first met her and he wanted her now, but he didn’t chase women. Not even a woman who stirred his blood and haunted his dreams.

He thought they’d made some real progress over the past couple of weeks. During dinner at her house, they’d talked and laughed and connected on a whole other level. Maybe it was his own fault—maybe he hadn’t handled the possibility of a baby very well, but he’d felt angry and betrayed and helpless.

Yeah, there had been two of them in that supply closet, and yeah, the thought of protection had never crossed his mind because he’d been thinking about Avery and being inside Avery and that was all that had mattered. And then, to learn that she’d consciously decided not to take the morning-after pill—a decision that had potential consequences for both of them—without even talking to him, had made him furious.

He didn’t have an issue with her choice, just with her complete and total disregard of his thoughts and feelings. She’d deliberately cut him out of the process—as if he wouldn’t care. As if he’d walk away from his own child. That was what had pissed him off.

But now the possibility and the panic were past. Avery wasn’t pregnant. There was no baby and no future for them together. And eight days after their conversation in the cafeteria, he decided it was time to stop obsessing about the woman who didn’t want him and enjoy the company of one who did.

He decided to take Heather up on her offer of dinner followed by drinks at a popular club. While they were out, she flirted with him outrageously and rubbed up against him on the dance floor, and Justin found himself wondering why he wasn’t tempted. She was offering him a good time without any strings, and he could really use the distraction of a simple fling to help him forget about the impossible woman who was stuck in his mind.

But when he’d walked Heather to her door, she’d put her arms around him and pressed her mouth to his, and he’d felt disgusted. Not with the young nurse but with himself, that he’d considered—for even half a minute—using her to help him forget about Avery. That was one thing he’d never done. He enjoyed women—their company and companionship—but he didn’t use them.

So he’d quickly extricated himself from Heather’s embrace, thanked her for an enjoyable evening and walked away.

The next day, wanting to ensure there was no repetition of the same scene, he decided to seek out some male camaraderie instead. With his younger brother in Florida and his older brother dealing with his own issues, he headed over to the headquarters of Garrett Furniture to see if anyone was around. He found Nathan in the CFO’s office.

“Where’s Allison?” he asked, having noted that the desk outside his cousin’s office—usually occupied by Nate’s wife, who was also his administrative assistant—was vacant.

“Dylan had a dentist appointment so she took off early.”

“You dock her pay for the missed time?”

“Nah—she makes it up with sexual favors.”

Justin winced. “I don’t need to know things like that.”

Nathan laughed. “Maybe you do. Maybe you need to realize that being with one woman—the right woman—night after night is far more satisfying than being with a different woman every night.”

“I’m not with a different woman every night,” he denied.

“That’s true—some nights you’re working.”

“And to think that I came to you for advice.”

Nathan leaned back in his chair and crossed his feet on the edge of his desk. “You did? This oughta be interesting.”

“I had a date last night,” Justin admitted.

“See point above,” his cousin noted drily.

“Her name’s Heather,” he continued, ignoring Nate’s sarcasm. “She’s a nurse. Young, attractive and apparently willing to get naked with me.”

“So far I’m not seeing why you need my advice.”

“Because at the end of the evening, I said goodbye at her door and walked away.”

His cousin’s brows lifted. “Now that is a surprise.”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

To his credit, Nate didn’t offer a flippant reply but took a minute to consider the question. “I think,” he eventually said, “that you’re finally growing up and realizing that you want something more substantial than a short-term fling, which you’re never going to find if you keep dating women who worship the ground you walk on.”

“Avery would more likely spit on the ground I walk on,” he admitted glumly.

“Avery?” Nate prompted, sounding intrigued.

“Avery Wallace.” Justin shook his head. “I need to get her out of my mind.”

“This conversation just got a lot more interesting.”

“Except that Avery’s made it clear she’s not interested.”

“And you, of course, look at that as a challenge.”

“Maybe. Partly,” he acknowledged. “But it’s more than that.”

“Is it?”

“I think I could really fall for her—and she won’t even go out with me.”

Nate chuckled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know this isn’t funny to you. But after having seen so many women fall at your feet for so many years, it’s refreshing to learn that there are still some females who are immune to your considerable charms.”

“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Justin grumbled.

“I can laugh now, because I’ve been in your shoes,” his cousin admitted. “Allison had all kinds of reasons for not wanting to get involved with me—even before I was her boss.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Nate confirmed.

“What changed her mind?”

“I think it was the chicken soup.”

“Huh?”

His cousin grinned. “Long story. Let’s just say that some women need to be convinced that a man has staying power—that he’ll stick around through good times and bad, in sickness and in health.”

“And you managed to do all of that with chicken soup?” he asked skeptically.

“I think it was what the soup symbolized more than the bowl of broth and noodles itself,” Nate told him.

“How am I supposed to show Avery that I want to stick around when she keeps pushing me away?”

“That’s a dilemma,” his cousin acknowledged. “And before you commit to any course of action, you need to decide if she’s worth it.”

Justin didn’t need to think about it. “She’s definitely worth it.”

The Sixth Annual Storybook Ball—named to reflect both its fantasy theme and the fact that the proceeds benefitted the children’s wing of Mercy Hospital—was held annually on the last Saturday in January. It was their biggest fund-raiser of the year and all doctors were invited and encouraged to attend, to mingle with patrons, talk to them about the work that was being done at the hospital and how past donations had been used to benefit their young patients, and explain why their support was needed now.

A handful of staff were always on hand to greet the guests as they arrived, and Avery had planned to be one of them this year—her support of the cause overrode her usual inclination to avoid formal events. Unfortunately, a complicated delivery put her behind schedule so that by the time she got home, showered and dressed for the event, she’d missed dinner. In fact, she was just sliding into her assigned seat as dessert was being eaten and coffee was being served.

No one asked any questions about her tardiness—they all understood that a career in medicine often caused scheduling conflicts with other events. Dr. Terrence, seated beside her, nudged his untouched strawberry shortcake toward her, offering a second dessert to compensate for the other four courses she’d missed. She gave him a grateful smile. The table of ten was rounded out by an accountant and her husband, a software designer and his wife, and a couple of prominent local business owners and their respective spouses.

As a result of her late arrival, it wasn’t until after the coffee service was over that Avery realized Justin was in attendance. When she finally did see him, when his eyes skimmed over her even from the other side of the room, her body tingled as if he’d actually touched her.

The man was spectacular in scrubs. Dressed in a shirt and tie, he was mouthwatering. And in black tie, he was breathtaking. Literally. Because when he started across the room, his gaze locked on hers, she could not draw any air into her lungs.

“Dr. Wallace,” he said, inclining his head in greeting.

“Dr. Garrett,” she returned, grateful that her cool tone gave no hint of the heat that flooded her system. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

“I usually prefer to write a check in lieu of attending these kinds of events,” he admitted.

“But not this year?”

He lifted a shoulder “I heard that you were going to be here.”

“You didn’t pay $1500 for a ticket because I was going to be here,” she chided.

“You’re right—I didn’t,” he admitted. “I convinced my cousin Nate—the CFO of Garrett Furniture—to pay $1500 for a table in support of a good cause and for the charitable tax receipt. But I only sat at that table because I wanted to see you.”

“I should thank your cousin, on behalf of the Mercy Hospital Foundation, for his generous contribution toward the purchase of an EOS imaging machine for the orthopedics department.”

He raised his eyebrows. “That’s a pricey piece of equipment.”

She nodded. “And it will provide clear and detailed images of children’s entire limbs–the spine, arms or legs—with a single scan and a lot less radiation exposure.”

“I know what it does,” he told her.

She flushed. “Of course, you do.”

“Are you nervous, Dr. Wallace?”

“A little,” she admitted. “These gala events aren’t really my thing.”

“So it’s the event that has you feeling...edgy?”

“What else could it be?”

He just smiled—the slow, sexy curve of his lips making her heart pound even harder.

“You’ve got those sparkly things in your hair again,” he noted.

Again. He was referring, of course, to New Year’s Eve. And though he said nothing more explicit in reference to that night, she could tell by the heat in his eyes that he was remembering what had happened between them.

She hadn’t forgotten, either. Not for one minute. But she wasn’t prepared to go down that road again. Instead, she shifted her gaze away, scanning the crowd. “Is your cousin here?”

Justin nodded. “That’s him on the dance floor—the one in the black tie.”

She smiled at that because all of the guests were in black tie—but no other man that she’d seen wore it quite as well as the one standing beside her right now. “Could you be a little bit more specific?”

He moved closer. “His wife is the gorgeous brunette in the fire engine–red dress.”

That description helped her narrow in on the couple. His cousin’s wife was gorgeous, and she and her husband made a striking couple.

“My parents were here earlier,” he told her. “But they left right after dinner to attend a showing at the art gallery for a friend’s daughter’s boyfriend’s sister—or something like that.”

She smiled. “Well, I hope they enjoyed their meal.”

“It was good, but the lobster ravioli was a little overcooked.”

“I can’t argue with that—I missed the pasta. And the spinach salad. And the beef tenderloin with mushroom risotto. I got caught up at the hospital and arrived late,” she explained.

He frowned. “What did you eat?”

“Strawberry shortcake.”

“If you’re hungry, I can ask someone to heat you up a plate.”

She was touched that he would think of it, and tempted to accept his offer. But she wasn’t really here for the food. She was supposed to work the crowd and squeeze every last dime that she could out of their fat wallets.

“Do you want the beef and risotto?” he asked, ready to invade the kitchen.

She laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll probably stop for something on my way home, but for now, I’m fine.”

He looked at her hand on his arm, then up into her eyes.

She felt it then—the hum that started beneath her palm and spread through her whole body. She snatched her hand away, but it was too late. Awareness crackled and sizzled between them.

He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, the couple he’d pointed out to her left the dance floor and came over to join them. He made introductions instead.

“So this is Avery,” Nate said, sliding a meaningful look toward his cousin as he shook her hand. “Now I understand.”

“Understand what?” she asked, glancing from Justin to his cousin and back again.

When Justin didn’t respond, Nate decided that he would. “Now I understand the reason my cousin—”

Chapter Seven

“Wants to dance with you,” Justin hastily interjected, grabbing for Avery’s hand. “Come on—this is a great song.”

“I don’t want to dance right now,” she told him. “I want to chat with Nathan and Allison.”

“I’ll dance with you, Dr. Romeo,” Allison offered, sending a conspiratorial wink in Avery’s direction.

Nathan chuckled as his wife dragged Justin away.

“Are you going to finish what you were saying now?”

“Of course not,” he said. “That would break the guy code.”

“Then why did you let him think you’d tell me?”

“Because it’s so rare to see Justin squirm about anything, I couldn’t resist needling him a little.” He glanced at her. “That was doctor humor, in case you missed it.”

“How could I miss an obvious jab like that?”

He grinned at her response. “In any event, all you need to know is that Justin mentioned your name.”

“Is that significant?”

“Much more than you might think,” he told her. “My cousin’s problem—or one of them—is that everything has always come easily to him. He’s smart, talented, good-looking and rich. And on top of all of that, he’s a doctor. He saves lives on a daily basis, and he does it without breaking a sweat.

“The combination makes him pretty much irresistible to most females, and he has dated a lot of women, but none of them has warranted mention to his family or held his attention for very long.”

“Your wife seems to be doing a pretty good job,” she noted, watching Justin and Allison dance and laugh together.

“That’s because my wife is the most amazing woman in the world.” He grinned again. “Not that I’m biased at all.”

“Of course not,” she agreed.

His gaze shifted back to the dance floor, and she wondered how it would feel to have someone look at her the way Nate looked at Allison—as if she was the center of not just his whole world but the entire universe.

The Rolling Stones gave way to Whitesnake asking “Is This Love?” and several people left the dance floor, including Allison and Justin.

Nate shook his head. “Does this DJ own anything from the last decade?”

“Probably not,” Avery said. “He was likely given a specific playlist to appeal to the demographic with the most money.”

Allison sidled up to her husband. “Now it’s your turn to dance with me.”

“You know I hate eighties hair bands,” he grumbled.

“But you love me,” she reminded him.

“With my whole heart,” he agreed, letting her lead him to the dance floor.

“Come on,” Justin said to Avery. “It’s time for you to get out there, too.”

“Oh, um, I don’t think I should,” she hedged.

“Why not?”

“I’m supposed to mingle,” she reminded him.

“One dance,” he cajoled.

She wanted to refuse, because dancing with Justin—even one dance—was a bad idea. But if she continued to protest, he would suspect the true reason for her reluctance: she was afraid of the feelings that churned inside her whenever she was near him.

Instead, she let him take her hand and lead her to the dance floor, her heart pounding every step of the way. And then she was in his arms, so close to him that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. So close that every nerve ending in her body actually ached with wanting to be closer.

She forced herself to concentrate on the music and follow his lead, but the muscles in her legs were trembling and her head was spinning—

“Breathe.”

She tilted her head to look up at him. “What?”

“You’re not breathing,” he told her.

“Oh.” She managed to drag air into her lungs, which alleviated some of the dizziness. But at the same time, she inhaled the clean masculine scent that was uniquely Justin. Now her head was spinning for a different reason.

Yep, agreeing to dance with him hadn’t just been a bad idea, it had been a monumentally bad idea. Like the Taj Mahal, Great Wall and Giza pyramid of bad ideas. And the song was barely half over.

She wanted him. It was pointless to deny it. No other man had ever affected her the way he did, made her want the way he did. And being with him here, somehow so close and not nearly close enough, was wreaking havoc with her system.

But even more dangerous than the attraction between them was her growing realization that she’d misjudged Dr. Romeo. Yes, he was the undisputed playboy of Mercy Hospital, but there was a lot more to him than the title implied, and the more time she spent with him, the more she genuinely liked him.

“This was worth the price of the ticket,” he said, the words whispered close to her ear, making her shiver. “Just being able to hold you like this.”

“Don’t let Tilly hear you say that,” she responded lightly. “The fund-raising chair might decide to add ‘dances with the doctors’ to the list of auction items for next year.”

“It will be our secret,” he promised her.

“And speaking of fund-raising, I really do need to talk to some people.”

He nodded. “I know.”

She stepped away from him as the song faded away.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” he asked.

The Taj Mahal, Great Wall and Giza pyramid loomed over her again. She shook her head. “I’m making no plans for tomorrow—it’s my lazy day.”

“We could be lazy together,” he suggested.

“Why are you doing this, Justin?”

“Because I tried the ‘back to normal’ thing you suggested and realized it wasn’t what I wanted. I want to be with you. I want a real relationship with you.”

“You don’t do real relationships,” she reminded him.

He linked their fingers together. “I think we faked it pretty well—imagine what we could do if we actually tried.”

But she shook her head. “I don’t want to try.”

“Why not?”

She sighed. “Didn’t we have a similar discussion a couple of weeks ago and agree that I’m not your type?”

“Apparently we remember that conversation differently,” he told her. “As well as what happened on New Year’s Eve.”

“I’m not going to sleep with you again, Justin. Although what happened between us a few weeks ago might suggest otherwise, I have too much self-respect to let myself become the latest name in a long list of your sexual conquests.”

“There isn’t a list,” he told her. “And maybe I haven’t had a long-term relationship in a lot of years, because I hear enough ‘Yes, Dr. Garrett’ at the hospital, I don’t want that in my personal life.

“I want to be with someone who has her own thoughts and opinions, and who is willing to argue when she disagrees with mine. I want to be with someone who challenges me to think and entices me to try different things, someone who makes me a better person. I think you could be that someone.”

She shook her head. “I’m not that someone.”

“How do you know?” he challenged.

“I like you,” she admitted. “You’re smart and funny and charming, and I admire your professional skills and abilities, but I have no interest in dating a doctor.”

He looked at her as if she was speaking a foreign language. “Let me see if I’ve got this right—it’s okay that you’re a doctor...but you won’t go out with someone who’s a doctor?”

“It’s not personal.”

He laughed, but it was without humor. “I don’t think it could get much more personal than that.”

“There’s Dr. Bristow,” she said. “I promised to introduce the Langdons to him if I had a chance.”

Justin just nodded.

Avery went after the chief of orthopedic surgery and steered him toward the couple that had been seated at her table for dinner.

When she looked around again, Justin was gone.

Avery put a smile on her face and made her way through the crowd, talking to as many guests as possible to ensure they understood how important the coveted equipment would be to the hospital. Many of them wrote checks to the foundation before they left, making her feel good about the success of the event.

Unfortunately, she didn’t feel good about the way she’d left things with Justin. But there was no way she could continue to spend time with him without falling for him, and that was a road she refused to go down.

By the time she left the gala, she was exhausted and her stomach felt unsettled. Probably because the strawberry shortcake that had been her dinner had disappeared a long time ago. She stopped to grab a banana-nut muffin and a bottle of juice on her way home.

The food didn’t make her feel any better and as soon as she opened her apartment door, she raced to the bathroom and threw up her late-night snack. After her stomach had finished heaving, she scrubbed her face with a cool cloth, brushed her teeth and fell into bed—and dreamed about Justin.

She spent all of Sunday morning in bed, nibbling on saltines and sipping ginger ale to appease her still-queasy stomach. By midafternoon, she was feeling a little better. She went for a walk to the market, bought some chicken and broccoli to make her favorite casserole—and thought about Justin.

Monday morning she was at Wellbrook early to meet with Amy before their patients started to arrive. She grabbed a cherry Danish from the box of pastries that their nurse habitually brought in and filled her favorite mug with coffee. When Amy came in, she filled a second mug and offered it to her friend.

“So tell me,” she said, when they were both seated at the table. “How did the interview go?”

Amy grinned. “So much better even than I expected. Olivia is only a third-year resident, but I think she’ll be a great addition to our staff. She has a wonderful demeanor—warm and reassuring—and she’s not afraid to ask questions when she doesn’t know what to do.”

“When can she start?”

“Well, I want all of you to meet her before I officially offer her the job. But if you agree, I’d love to get her on the schedule for the middle of February.”

“Sounds perfect,” Avery agreed. “So why do you have that little furrow between your brows that you always get when you’re worried about something?”

Her friend tore off a piece of doughnut. “It has nothing to do with Olivia.”

“Okay,” she said cautiously.

“It’s about...Justin.”

“Okay,” she said again.

Amy swallowed another mouthful of coffee. “You know what I think about hospital gossip,” she began.

“Just tell me what you heard,” Avery suggested. Then she shook her head. “On second thought—don’t. It doesn’t matter.”

“Normally I would agree,” her friend said cautiously, “but I don’t want you to hear it from anyone else.”

She sighed. “Okay—hear what?”

“That he spent the weekend with Heather Delgado.”

It took Avery a minute to match the name to a face. Heather had only started working at the hospital in the fall—probably not long after she’d graduated from nursing school—but she seemed competent enough. She was also a very attractive woman with dark curly hair and a bubbly personality.

“Oh.” She’d have to be blind not to have seen the way Heather looked at Justin—the open admiration and blatant speculation that gleamed in the nurse’s dark eyes. She’d watched her flirt boldly with the sexy doctor—and witnessed him flirting right back.

Of course, she hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, because Justin flirted with everyone. But the idea of him with the young nurse bothered her more than she wanted to admit, as the Danish and coffee churning in her stomach attested.

“It might not be true,” her friend said now.

“It doesn’t matter,” Avery said again.

Amy squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry. I told you—it was just a one-time thing. He can see whoever he wants to see, sleep with whoever he wants.”

“But...weren’t you with him at the Storybook Ball on Saturday?”

“Where did you hear that?”

Amy shrugged. “Lucinda Singh told Gabbie Holtby who told Tess that you were dancing with him at the ball.”

“It was one dance,” she said. “Yes, we were both there, but we weren’t together.”

“But that proves he wasn’t with Heather all weekend.”

“No, it only proves that he wasn’t with her for the few hours that he was at the ball,” she pointed out.

Monica tapped on the door before poking her head into the small kitchenette/staff room. “You’ve got a five-month prenatal in room one, a physical in two, ‘I’m not talking to anyone but the doctor’ in three and suspected chicken pox in six.”

Amy nodded. “Thanks for keeping that one far away from the expectant mom.”

“That’s why you pay me the big bucks,” Monica joked.

“I guess we’d better get started,” Avery said, pushing away from the table.

Amy caught her arm as she started to move past. “Give him a chance to explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. We talked last week, agreed that we were lucky to have dodged a bullet and happy to go our separate ways.”

“That might have been what you said,” her friend acknowledged. “But how do you feel?”

“Right now—I’m incredibly grateful that I’m not pregnant with his child.”

But she also knew that if she wasn’t feeling better by the weekend, she would pick up a pregnancy test—just to be sure.

Justin didn’t see Avery again until Wednesday.

He was still a little annoyed and frustrated with her prohibition against dating doctors, but he didn’t think she had any reason to be mad at him. But when he passed her in the ER corridor, she immediately dropped her gaze to the chart in her hand, and when she realized that he was in line ahead of her at the sandwich counter, she moved to the salad bar instead.

He made sure he caught up with her as she was leaving the cafeteria and fell into step beside her.

“What did I do?” he asked.

She sent him a sideways glance, but her quick steps didn’t slow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well, I know we’re not the best of friends, but I thought we’d progressed to the point where we could actually have a civil conversation.”

“Isn’t this civil?” she asked.

“Sure,” he agreed. “Except that I might get frostbite if I move any closer to you.”

She pushed open the doors to the ER department. “So don’t move any closer.”

“Come on, Avery. You’re pissed about something—just tell me what it is.”

“I’m not pissed,” she denied. “And your new girlfriend’s trying to get your attention.”

He scowled. “What?”

She nodded her head in the direction of the nurses’ station and, when he glanced in that direction, he saw that Heather was gesturing for him to come over to the desk.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he denied, even as he held up a finger, asking Heather to give him a minute.

“Really? Because that’s been the hot topic of conversation at the coffee station for the past few days.”

Despite the deliberately low pitch of her voice, the increasingly heated nature of their discussion was starting to draw some curious looks. Not wanting to generate yet more gossip, he took Avery’s arm and steered her down the hall and into the doctors’ lounge.

“I don’t care what the latest gossip is,” he said, when the door had closed behind them. “She’s not my girlfriend—new or otherwise.”

“So you didn’t go out with her Saturday night?” she challenged.

“I was with you Saturday night,” he reminded her.

“Only until I told you I wouldn’t sleep with you again—then you disappeared pretty quickly.”

“I went home,” he told her. “But thanks for that confirmation of your lousy opinion of me.”

“So when were you with her?” she asked. “Friday?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I did go out with her Wednesday night last week, but I didn’t sleep with her.”

“Whether you did or not is none of my business.”

“You’re right,” he agreed. “It’s not any of your business. You made it clear that you weren’t interested in going out with me, so you have no right to get all bent out of shape when I go out with someone else.”

“I’m not bent out of shape,” she denied, though the flush in her cheeks suggested otherwise.

“You seem pretty bent to me.”

“Well, I’m not,” she said again.

“And I wasn’t with Heather,” he said again. “Not on Saturday or any other night.”

“Except Wednesday.”

“I went out with her on Wednesday,” he acknowledged. “And then I said good-night to her at her door and went home to my own apartment.”

“If that’s true—”

“Dammit, Avery. Of course, it’s true.”

“—she’s not going to want that information to get out. Especially when you slept with Madison, Emma and Brooke.”

“I didn’t sleep with Madison or Emma. I did sleep with Brooke,” he admitted wearily. “Once. About four years ago.”

“Apparently your legend lives on.”

“And I only agreed to go out with Heather because you made it clear that you weren’t interested in a relationship with me,” he told her. “And even then, the whole time I was with her, I was thinking of you.

“I’m not proud of that fact, but there it is,” he told her. “I’m not used to thinking about only one woman, wanting only one woman. But that’s the way it’s been since New Year’s Eve.” He shook his head. “No, the truth is, it’s been like that since long before New Year’s.”

She backed away from him. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Say things that make me want to believe I’m different from every other woman who ever got naked with you.”

“Because you are different,” he told her. “God knows you frustrate me a hell of a lot more than any other woman I’ve ever known.”

He was furious with Heather for starting the rumors, but he was even more frustrated with Avery for believing them. And he was exasperated by her determination to ignore the attraction between them—especially after what had happened between them on New Year’s. And no matter what he did to prove himself to her, she wasn’t willing to give him or a relationship between them a chance because she had some ridiculous and arbitrary rule about not dating doctors.

“In that case, you shouldn’t have any objections to me cutting this tête-à-tête short so I can get back to work,” she said, moving toward the door.

He stepped in front of her. “What I object to is you walking away every time you don’t like the direction of a conversation.”

“I can’t talk to you about this anymore.”

“That’s fine,” he decided. “Because I’m done talking.”

Instead, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Chapter Eight

Avery should have seen it coming. It was just the kind of high-handed macho move she should have expected from him. But he’d looked so sincerely frustrated to hear about the latest rumors churning through the hospital gossip mill, and when he’d looked into her eyes—damn, but she was a sucker for those deep green eyes—she’d felt every last ounce of her resistance melt.

She heard a soft, needy moan and realized that it had come from her. She poured everything she was feeling into the kiss. Anger. Frustration. Hurt. Need. Any pretension that she didn’t want this—want him—was decimated by that sound.

But still, there were so many reasons not to get involved with him. Even aside from the fact that he was a doctor, he was totally wrong for her. And completely out of her league. She believed he was telling the truth about Heather, so maybe he wasn’t quite the Casanova that his reputation implied, but he was still a major-league player and she was just learning the rules of rookie ball.

With that thought in mind, she managed to draw away from him, pressing her lips together as if that might stop the exquisite tingling. But when she lifted her gaze to his, the heat and hunger in his eyes made her tremble inside.

“What are we doing here, Justin?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m trying to remember where the nearest supply closet is,” he told her.

She shook her head. “I don’t know how to do this—how to play these games.”

“I’m not playing games with you, Avery.”

“This doesn’t make any sense to me,” she admitted. “None of this. I know all of the reasons that this is a bad idea. And then you touch me—or even just look at me—and I don’t seem to care.”

“Despite your fondness to control everything, attraction doesn’t work that way. You can try to ignore it, but you can’t manipulate it.”

“I guess I’ll just have to ignore it, then,” she decided.

He smiled. “You can try.”

When his mother called to invite him for dinner and cake Saturday night, Justin was so frustrated and preoccupied by the situation with Avery, it never occurred to him that the simple invitation was anything more than that. Not until he turned onto the street and saw the long line of cars already in her driveway. Apparently “cake” was code for “party,” and he was the guest of honor.

His cousin Lauryn met him in the foyer.

“Happy birthday,” she said, brushing her lips against his cheek.

“Thanks.” He rubbed her pregnant belly, where her second child currently resided, then asked about her firstborn. “Where’s Kylie?”

“Off somewhere with Oliver, and I hope Harper’s got her eye on them, because I can’t keep up anymore.”

“Harper and Ryan are here?”

“Of course,” she said, as if it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for his brother and sister-in-law to make the trip from Miami, where Harper was the producer of a popular daytime television show. “If you’re going to be surprised by anything, it should be the presence of your other brother.”

“I thought I recognized Braden’s car in the driveway.”

She nodded. “Dana’s here, too.”

“They haven’t both been to a family event since...I can’t remember,” he admitted.

“Well, they’re here today,” she said.

Then she hooked her arm through his and guided him to the family room where her middle sister, Jordyn, was snuggled up on the sofa with her new husband, Marco. Lauryn released his arm and squeezed onto the other end of the sofa. Her youngest and still-single sister, Tristyn, was across the room in conversation with their cousin Daniel. He didn’t see Daniel’s wife, Kenna, anywhere, so he suspected she was chasing around after their almost two-year-old son, Jacob. Andrew and Rachel’s daughter, Maura, was teaching her cousin Dylan—Nathan and Allison’s son—to play poker.

“Don’t bet your college fund,” Justin warned the boy. “She’ll clean you right out.”

Dylan looked up and grinned. “Nah, I’m winning.”

“Really?” He looked at Maura, who was scowling at the cards in her hand.

“Beginner’s luck,” she insisted.

“Maybe you shouldn’t bet your college fund,” he told her.

“We’re playing for Rayquaza,” she told him.

“I don’t know what that is, but it sounds dangerous.”

Maura giggled. “You’re so funny, Uncle Justin.”

Of course, the uncle designation was more honorary than accurate, but he’d always enjoyed being “Uncle Justin” to his cousins’ kids. There were quite a few of them now, and they were all underfoot today.

“The house seems so big most of the time,” his father said, coming up to Justin and offering him a beer. “And then we invite the family over, and your mother starts to fret about where we’re going to put everyone.”

He accepted the bottle. “Thanks. There is a full house today.”

“Your mother thought your thirty-fifth birthday warranted a party.”

“I wish she’d told me.”

“She obviously told you something to get you here,” John noted.

“She said we were going to have a family dinner. And cake.”

“It is family,” his father assured him. “And there will be cake.”

“Who’s the woman with Tristyn and Daniel?” He nodded in the direction of a third person he hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Emmaline Carpenter.”

“Who?”

“Veronica Carpenter’s granddaughter,” John said, as if that should explain everything.

“She’s not family,” he noted.

“Well, no,” his father admitted.

Justin sighed. “I guess that means Mom’s matchmaking again.”

“She thinks that thirty-five is time for you to get serious and settle down.”

“Why doesn’t she believe that I could get my own date if I wanted one?”

“Because you never bring home any of the women you date.”

“Because bringing a woman home to meet the parents is the quickest way to give her the wrong idea,” Justin pointed out.

“Just talk to the girl,” John urged. “You might find you actually like her.”

He was sure that she was a perfectly nice woman, and she was undoubtedly attractive—but she wasn’t Avery.

“Right now, I’m going to talk to Mom,” Justin said.

He found Ellen in the kitchen, where she was sprinkling mozzarella on top of a tray of cannelloni. She wiped her hands on her apron before she enveloped him in her arms. “There’s my birthday boy.”

He winced visibly, making his aunt Susan laugh.

“I’m thirty-five, Mom,” he reminded her.

“As if I didn’t know,” she admonished. “I was there, you know. In fact, I’m the one who gave birth to you—after twenty-eight hours of labor.”

“Ah, the ‘twenty-eight hours of labor’ story,” Tristyn said, having followed him into the kitchen to grab a handful of juice boxes from the refrigerator, no doubt for the various kids spread around the house. “As much a birthday tradition as candles on the cake.”

Susan shooed her daughter out of the kitchen.

“It was thirty-six hours with Braden,” he reminded his mother.

She nodded. “But only six with Ryan.”

“Are you implying that he was the easy one?”

She laughed. “None of you were easy. Not during labor or all of the years since. But you were worth every minute of every day.” She opened the oven to check on the chicken drumsticks and roasted potatoes.

“I’m not sure thirty-five is really a milestone that warrants all of this,” he said cautiously. “Not that I don’t appreciate it.”

“Maybe I just wanted an excuse to get the whole family together,” she said. “It’s been a long time since everyone’s been able to coordinate their schedules.”

He nodded. “Yeah, it’s been a whole five weeks since Jordyn and Marco’s wedding.”

She swatted at him with a tea towel. “Andrew and Rachel weren’t at the wedding,” she reminded him. “They were in Florida visiting Rachel’s parents.”

“Well, you managed to get everyone here today—which hopefully means you also got a really big cake.”

“I should have guessed that would be your biggest concern and not realize that we’re still missing someone.”

“I didn’t actually do a head count, but I can’t think of anyone who’s missing—aside from Rob,” he said, referring to Lauryn’s husband, who always seemed to be at the Locker Room—the sporting goods store he owned. “But I figured he was working.”

“That’s what Lauryn said,” she confirmed. “And I was referring to your sister.”

“You invited Nora?”

“Of course I invited Nora.”

He didn’t think there was any “of course” about it considering that the woman she so easily referred to as his sister had been born as a result of his father’s extramarital affair during a difficult period in his parents’ marriage.

“Does Dad know that you invited her?”

“I wouldn’t have done so without talking to him first,” she chided. “There’s been more than enough secrecy about his daughter.”

“What did she say?” he asked.

His mother sighed. “She thanked me for the invitation but said that she had other plans.”

“She came to see me a few weeks ago,” Justin admitted.

“She did?” Ellen sounded surprised but not displeased by this revelation. “Why?”

“She’s applied for a PT opening at Mercy and wanted a letter of recommendation.”

“Did you give it to her?”

“I did one better—I introduced her to some of the staff in the physio department. She starts on Monday.”

Ellen smiled. “You have a good heart, Justin.”

He slid an arm across his mother’s shoulders. “I wonder where I get that from.”

“You need someone to share that heart of yours,” she told him.

“Are you really going to start this again?”

“Nate told me that you’re seeing someone—another doctor. Is this true?”

He should have known his cousin wouldn’t be able to resist telling someone about Avery, but he’d hoped Nate had enough sense not to open his big mouth to Justin’s mother. “I’m not sure our relationship is that clearly defined,” he hedged.

“You should have invited her to come tonight.”

“Then you would have had to uninvite Mrs. Carpenter’s granddaughter.”

His mother flushed. “All I did was ask a young woman who didn’t have any other plans to join us for dinner.”

“Would you have asked her if she was married?”

“If she was married, I would have told her to bring her husband, too.”

Which, knowing his mother, was entirely possible.

“I invited Josh Slater, too,” she pointed out, referring to Daniel’s business partner in Garrett/Slater Racing.

“And I’ll bet you’ve arranged the seating so that he’s beside Tristyn.”

She neither confirmed nor denied it, saying only, “Get out of here now so we can finish up and get dinner on the table.”

Avery’s stomach was being uncooperative again. Of course, staring at Justin’s phone number might have had something to do with the nerves tangled into knots in her belly.

She had to call him—and she was going to. She just wanted to be sure that she wasn’t going to throw up in the middle of their conversation before she dialed.

She looked at the stick on the table—at the two parallel lines in the narrow window. She’d bought the test because she was still feeling fatigued and occasionally queasy, but she’d expected it to rule out a pregnancy. Seeing those two lines... She wasn’t sure how she felt, but she knew that she wanted her baby.

Not just her baby, but hers and Justin’s. And if her own emotions were in turmoil, she couldn’t begin to imagine how he might react when he learned that he was going to be a father. He’d made it clear that he would be involved if there was a baby, but he’d also been obviously relieved when she told him that they’d dodged the bullet.

Now she had to tell him that she’d been wrong.

And she had to be prepared for the fact that those words would change everything for both of them.

She took a few more slow, steady breaths and punched in his number.

She could hear voices in the background when he connected the call. Voices and laughter.

“I’m calling at a bad time,” she realized.

“No, it’s okay,” Justin said. “It’s good to hear from you.”

He sounded as if he meant it, which only made her feel guiltier about the reason for her call.

“What’s up?”

“I was hoping we could get together, to talk about some things,” she admitted. “But obviously you’re busy so—”

“I’d say ‘stuck’ rather than busy,” he told her. “But I should be able to get away in about an hour, two at the most.”

“Where are you?”

“Family birthday party,” he said. “Did you want to meet somewhere or do you want me to stop by your place?”

“Why don’t you come here?” she suggested. “That way it doesn’t matter if you’re an hour—or two.”

“I could probably get away sooner, if it’s important,” he offered.

It was more than important—it was terrifying and exhilarating and life changing. But all she said to Justin was, “I’ll see you when you get here.”

She disconnected and set the phone back in the cradle. Only then did she realize how much her hands were shaking. Now that she’d made the call, there was no going back.

But she had an hour—or maybe two—and no idea how to pass the time. Her apartment was clean, her laundry done, the dinner dishes washed up and put away. She tried to read, but she couldn’t focus on the words on the page. She turned on the television, but nothing held her attention there, either.

She picked up the plastic stick again and stared at the two narrow lines in the window.

Yes, from this point forward, everything was going to change.

Avery immediately released the lock on the door when Justin buzzed, as if she’d been waiting for him. He’d been surprised by her call—even more so by the invitation to stop by her apartment, especially in light of the way their previous conversation had ended.

He wanted to believe that she’d reconsidered, that she’d realized it was pointless to continue to ignore the attraction between them and had decided to explore it instead. Yeah, it was probably wishful thinking on his part—or maybe it was his birthday wish come true.

“What’s that?” she asked, when she opened the door and saw the plate in his hands.

“Birthday cake.”

“You took the leftover cake?”

“It’s my cake,” he told her, stepping into the foyer.

“I didn’t realize—” She dragged a hand through her hair. “The birthday party was for you?”

He nodded. “Apparently thirty-five is some kind of milestone in my mother’s world, so she invited the whole clan—aunts, uncles, cousins, spouses and kids.”

“Sounds...fun,” she said, a little dubiously.

“It was fun. And chaotic. And lucky that there was any leftover cake, which I brought to share with you.”

“I should refuse, but I have no willpower when it comes to chocolate cake.”

“I thought your weakness was cookies ’n’ cream ice cream,” he said, following her into the kitchen.

“Okay, so I have more than one weakness,” she admitted. “Do you want a glass of milk with your cake?”

“I’d rather have coffee—if it’s not too much trouble.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she told him.

She took a mug out of the cupboard, popped a pod into her home brewing system and pressed the button. Her movements were usually smooth and effortless—indicative of a woman who was confident in herself and her abilities. But she seemed a little jumpy today, and unwilling to hold his gaze. It was as if she was anxious about something, and her nervousness was starting to make him nervous.

Justin found plates and forks in the cupboard, and divided the slab of cake into two pieces. Avery carried his mug of coffee and her glass of milk to the table.

“Cream? Sugar?”

He shook his head. “Black is fine.”

They sat at the dining room table and ate their dessert. Actually, he ate his while Avery—despite her declared weakness for chocolate cake—picked gingerly at hers.

“So, why did you call?” he asked, swallowing his last bite.

Avery’s fork slipped from her grasp and clattered against her plate. She pushed her half-eaten dessert away and picked up a napkin, her attention focused on wiping each and every finger. “Maybe we should do this another time.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s your birthday and there’s probably somewhere else you’d rather be.”

“I want to be here, Avery,” he said patiently. “I want to know what’s on your mind.”

She folded her napkin in half once, and then again. “I just wanted to follow up our earlier conversation...about what happened...on New Year’s.”

She wasn’t the type to meander through a conversation rather than get straight to the point, but she was meandering now. “What—exactly—requires follow-up?”

“Well...it, um, turns out that we didn’t, um...dodge the bullet.”

It took him a minute to figure out what she was saying, probably because his brain didn’t want to figure it out. They’d had a close call, she’d assured him he was “off the hook.”

And he’d been grateful—so incredibly grateful—because he knew there was no way he was ready to be a father. Now, he felt that hook slice deep into him, lodging painfully in his gut.

“You’re...pregnant?”

She nodded and pulled a narrow plastic stick out of her pocket to show him the two lines in the window.

“You’re going to be a daddy.”

Chapter Nine

Justin stared at the plastic stick for a long minute.

“Well,” he finally said, “this is an even bigger surprise than my mother’s party.”

Avery nodded again. “I’m sure you need some time...to process.”

Yeah, processing would probably be good, because right now, his mind was blank except for the holy crap going around and around inside his head.

When she’d told him that she got her period, he’d breathed a sigh of relief that they were in the clear and chalked up the birth-control faux pas to an “oops” that he promised himself would never happen again. And over the past couple of weeks, he’d mostly managed to put the whole pregnancy scare out of his mind.

Now...he wasn’t sure what to think or how to feel. He’d already told her how he felt about the decisions she’d made without any communication or consultation, so there was no point in rehashing all of that again.

But—holy crap—he really hadn’t been prepared for this.

And though he was certain he already knew the answer to the question, he had to ask, “You’re going to have the baby?”

Avery tilted her chin and narrowed her gaze on him. Maybe it was a question he felt compelled to ask, but after their previous discussion on the topic, she couldn’t help but feel angry and annoyed. “Yes, I’m going to have the baby.”

He drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Do you want to get married?”

She stared at him, certain she hadn’t heard him correctly.

“Did you just ask—” She shook her head.

“I asked if you wanted to get married,” he repeated.

The question was so completely unexpected, even the second time, that she wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I always thought I would get married someday,” she finally told him. “But not because I’m pregnant and not to a man who doesn’t understand the meaning of commitment or long-term.”

“Just because I haven’t had a long-term relationship in a while doesn’t mean I’m incapable of making a commitment.”

“Then what does it mean?” she challenged.

“Maybe I just haven’t wanted to commit to any of the other women that I’ve dated.”

“But I’m supposed to believe that you’re willing to commit to a woman you haven’t dated at all?”

“The only reason we haven’t dated is that you have some nonsensical ban on dating doctors,” he told her.

“It’s not nonsensical,” she denied.

“Then explain it to me,” he suggested.

She shrugged, figuring she probably owed him that much. “Both of my parents were doctors—more committed to their careers than either their marriage or their children—and I decided a long time ago that that’s not what I want for my life.”

“Except that we are both doctors and we’re having a baby together, so that pretty much decimates your logic, doesn’t it?” he challenged.

“I don’t expect you to make any decisions right now,” she said, striving to remain calm and reasonable.

“When should I make them?”

“When you’ve had a chance to think about what this means for you.”

“You said it yourself—it means I’m going to be a father,” he acknowledged bluntly.

“That’s true,” she agreed. “But the last time we talked about this, I told you that it was my decision to accept the potential consequences of what happened between us and I’m not asking for anything from you.”

“And I told you that if you were pregnant—and now we know that you are—you don’t just get a baby. You get me, too.”

She frowned at the grim determination in his tone. “I thought that was just...an emotional outburst.”

“I’m not prone to emotional outbursts,” he assured her. “I say what I mean and mean what I say. I want to be part of our baby’s life, and that would be easier to do if we were married.”

“And a lot harder on both of us and the baby when we decide it isn’t working, we can’t stand to live together anymore and can’t figure out who’s going to get stuck with the kids,” she argued.

It was her use of the plural pronoun that made Justin realize she was projecting her own childhood experience onto the current situation and made him want to throttle both of her parents. But at the moment, the best he could do was proceed cautiously.

“You might want to consider the possibility that we could make a marriage succeed,” he told her.

“If you’re serious about coparenting, we need to be able to work together for the sake of the baby. Which means we need to keep our focus on the baby and not get distracted by other stuff.”

“Other stuff?” he echoed, amused despite the guilt and responsibility weighing on him now. “As in the attraction between us? The reason we’re going to be parents?”

“Maybe we’re not ready to talk about this,” she decided, pointedly ignoring his questions.

“When do you think we will be ready to talk about it?”

“I’ve had about—” she glanced at her watch “—four hours to think about this. You’ve had twenty minutes.”

“To think about the baby,” he agreed. “I’ve been thinking about us for a lot longer.”

“There is no ‘us,’” she snapped.

But beneath the frustration, he heard the desperation in her voice. She obviously wanted to believe what she was saying, to establish some control over the situation—because he knew how important it was to Avery to be in control.

“Maybe we both need some time,” he suggested.

“That’s probably best,” she agreed, relief evident in her tone.

“I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.”

She nodded, apparently willing to be agreeable and reasonable now that he was on his way out the door.

But if she expected him to back off, she was going to be disappointed. Because their future was too important—to both of them and their baby.

She told Amy about her pregnancy a few days later, in part because she continued to be plagued by fatigue and queasiness and it wouldn’t take her friend long to put the pieces together, but also because she wanted Amy to know that she’d need to reduce her hours later in her pregnancy and after the baby was born.

Amy was unreservedly thrilled by the news. She knew how much her friend wanted a child and she was convinced that Avery and Justin would be fabulous parents. When Avery pointed out that she and Justin weren’t together, Amy reaffirmed her belief that that would change before their baby was born. Avery didn’t argue with her friend—preferring to save her energy to have that battle with her baby’s father.

After sharing the news with Amy, she thought about telling her family. And when she thought about family, she thought about Ryder, her brother and—aside from Amy—her best friend. She sent him a text message inviting him to come over for dinner, because she’d never known Ryder to turn down a free meal.

She decided on pulled pork, because she could put it in the slow cooker before she went to work and also because she knew how much he liked it. When she got home, she made garlic mashed potatoes and corn—more of her brother’s favorites.

He was appreciative of her efforts and was on his second helping when Avery said, “I haven’t seen much of you over the past few weeks.”

“Our filming schedule has been pretty chaotic,” Ryder told her. “The director wants to wrap up the season before the beginning of April so that he can take an extended vacation, which means that all of the crews are working around the clock to finish projects before then.”

“I’ve been busy, too,” she said. “In addition to my usual shifts at the hospital, we’ve extended the hours at the clinic to accommodate our growing list of patients. It’s amazing how many women are having babies and, coincidentally, I’m going to have one, too.”

She’d hoped that sharing her news as a footnote might diffuse the impact of the words, at least a little. When Ryder paused with his fork halfway to his mouth to stare at her, she realized it had not.

“You’re pregnant?”

She forced a smile. “Isn’t that great?”

“I don’t know.” He continued to hold her gaze. “Is it?”

“It is,” she assured him. “I’m ready for this, and I really want this baby.”

“And the father?” he prompted.

“We’re...figuring things out.”

“I didn’t know you were dating anyone.”

“You’ve been busy,” she reminded him.

“So you have been seeing someone?”

She nodded.

“For how long?” Ryder asked.

“Not very long,” she admitted.

“Does he have a name?”

“Of course,” she said, “but I’m not going to give it to you—not until I’m sure that you won’t go all Neanderthal on me and beat him over the head with a club for messing with your sister.”

“Then you better give me some more information,” he suggested.

“Such as?” she asked warily.

“The date of the wedding.”

She shook her head. “Jesus, Ryder—what century do you live in?”

“Hopefully a century in which my sister wouldn’t screw around with a guy who doesn’t believe in doing the right thing.”

She sighed. “Then you’ll be happy to know he did offer to marry me.”

“And the date of the wedding?” he prompted again.

“I said no.”

“Why?”

“He’s a doctor.”

Ryder sighed and shook his head. “You don’t learn, do you?”

“Apparently not.”

“But you obviously like the guy—at least well enough to get naked with him.”

“Yeah, I like him,” she admitted.

“So maybe you could make it work,” he said, though not very convincingly.

“Liking someone is hardly a foundation for marriage.”

“Maybe not,” he allowed. “But you need to think about your baby, too.”

“I am thinking about the baby. And we both know that putting the responsibility of kids on top of a shaky foundation is a blueprint for disaster.”

Her brother reluctantly nodded. “I just want you to be happy, sis. After what happened with Wyatt—”

“I’m over Wyatt,” she told him. “My broken heart is mended, fully and completely, and now I’m going to have a baby, and I’m happy about that. I wish you could be, too.”

“I am happy for you,” he said. “I just wish you were planning to marry the baby’s father.”

“Because a woman having a baby out of wedlock offends your sense of propriety?”

“I’m not worried about propriety—I’m worried that you’ve closed off your heart.”

“My heart’s not closed,” she denied. “It’s just not open to the baby’s father.”

The clinic was decorated for Valentine’s Day with hearts and flowers and adorable little cupids. When Avery finished for the day, her only thoughts were of dinner and bed—and then she got home and found Justin standing outside of her apartment door with several bags at his feet and a bouquet of flowers in his hand, and her traitorous heart swelled up inside her chest.

“What are you doing here?”

“I brought dinner and flowers for Mr. Gunnerson across the hall, but he already had a date for Valentine’s Day so he suggested that I bring everything over here to you.”

“Mr. Gunnerson let you into the building,” she guessed.

“And Mrs. Gunnerson said you were lucky to have such a handsome and thoughtful beau to share this special day with, because you’re a lovely young woman who works too hard and needs someone to take care of you every once in a while.”

Avery shook her head as she unlocked the door. “This was a really thoughtful gesture, but I had leftover chicken and broccoli in the freezer that I was planning to have tonight.”

“Then you should be doubly grateful the Gunnersons sent me over here,” he said solemnly, handing her the flowers so he could pick up the rest of the bags to carry into her apartment.

Her heart gave a little jolt inside her chest when she unwrapped the dozen long-stemmed red roses mixed with lush greens and starry gypsophila. “These are...gorgeous,” she told him, tracing the edge of a velvety soft petal with the tip of her finger.

“I know you want to pretend this is all about the baby,” he told her. “But it’s not. There’s something going on between us that has nothing to do with the child you’re carrying—or maybe it would be more accurate to say it’s the reason for the child you’re carrying.”

She sighed. “I really just want to focus on what’s best for the baby right now.”

“You don’t think having two parents who are together would be the best thing for our baby?”

“I think a lot of things can happen in nine months and we should just take things one day at a time.”

“Fair enough,” he said, and began to unpack the food.

“How many people were you planning to feed?” she asked, when she saw the number of containers on the table.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I got manicotti, lasagna, fettuccine Alfredo, and penne with sausage and peppers. Plus salad, garlic bread and dessert, because you’re eating for two now.”

“That’s a myth,” she told him, as she snipped the stems of the flowers. “A pregnant woman only needs about three hundred additional calories a day. Too much weight gain during pregnancy can increase her risk of gestational diabetes, high blood pressure and caesarean delivery.”

“I was teasing, Avery,” he said patiently. “Believe it or not, I did learn some things during my obstetrics rotation in medical school.” He found plates and cutlery and carried them to the table. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay. Tired, but that’s common in the first trimester.”

“Any morning sickness?”

She carried the vase to the table and placed it at the center. “Rarely, and not usually in the morning.”

“Have you been to see a doctor?” He held her chair for her to be seated.

“I see doctors every day,” she assured him.

“You know what I mean,” he chided, settling into the chair beside hers.

She nodded. “Yes, I’ve seen Dr. Herschel.”

“And she doesn’t have any concerns about anything?”

“He,” Avery told him, lifting a manicotti onto her plate. “Dr. Richard Herschel.”

He frowned at that as he reached for the lasagna. “Why did you pick a male doctor?”

“Because he was highly recommended. In fact, he delivered Amy and Ben’s son, Henry.”

“Is Dr. Herschel at least old and bald?”

She tapped her chin with a finger as she considered the question. “I’d guess early forties, curly blond hair, blue eyes, great bedside manner.”

His scowl deepened.

She laughed as she added a slice of garlic bread to her plate. “Even if I did date doctors—which I don’t,” she reminded him, “Dr. Herschel is happily married with four kids.”

“You could have mentioned that at the beginning.”

“I could have,” she agreed. Then she said, “I had a consult in the ER this morning, and I saw Heather’s name on the schedule.”

He nodded. “She was there.”

“She didn’t invite you to celebrate Valentine’s Day with her tonight?”

“She did,” he admitted. “And I told her I had other plans. I was tempted to tell her that I was going to be with you, but I wasn’t sure how you’d feel about that.”

“I’d rather not be the hot topic of conversation at the nurses’ station tomorrow.”

“You do know that people are eventually going to find out that you’re pregnant—and that I’m the father.”

“Eventually,” she acknowledged. “But I don’t want to tell anyone else about the baby until I’m past the first trimester.”

He nodded. “Will you come to dinner with me at my parents’ house next Saturday?”

“Were you listening to anything I just said?”

“I heard every word,” he assured her. “I’m not suggesting that we tell my parents next weekend—I just want them to meet you, to get to know you before they know that you’re going to be the mother of my child.”

“You want to pretend we’re in a relationship,” she realized. “You don’t want them to find out about the baby and then have to explain that we had a quickie in a closet.”

“I don’t want to pretend anything,” he denied. “I want to give us the chance to actually build a relationship.”

She stood up from the table and began clearing away the dishes. “We had this conversation already,” she reminded him.

“Actually, we didn’t, because you said we weren’t ready to have the conversation.”

“And I’m still not ready.”

“I’m not asking for anything more than one day at a time,” he told her. “And I don’t think wanting you to meet my parents—our baby’s grandparents—is unreasonable.”

She nodded. “You’re right, it’s not.”

“Then you’ll come to dinner next Saturday?”

“Don’t you think you should clear it with your parents first?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “I’ll let them know, but it won’t be a problem. My mother always cooks more than enough food.”

“Okay,” she relented. “I’ll go to dinner next Saturday.”

“Good.” After they finished their dessert, he helped her tidy up the kitchen.

“Thank you for tonight,” she said, as she walked him to the door. “I was planning on leftovers when I got home—this was better.”

“I thought so, too.” He settled his hands on her hips and drew her toward him.

She put her hands on his chest, determined to hold him at a distance. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to kiss you goodbye.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, a slight note of panic in her voice.

“It’s just a kiss, Avery.” He held her gaze as his hand slid up her back to the nape of her neck. “And hardly our first.”

Then he lowered his head slowly, the focused intensity of those green eyes holding her captive as his mouth settled on hers. Warm and firm and deliciously intoxicating. Her own eyes drifted shut as a soft sigh whispered between her lips.

He kept the kiss gentle, patiently coaxing a response. She wanted to resist, but she had no defenses against the masterful seduction of his mouth. She arched against him, opened for him. And the first touch of his tongue to hers was like a lit match to a candlewick—suddenly she was on fire, burning with desire.

It was like New Year’s Eve all over again, but this time she didn’t even have the excuse of adrenaline pulsing through her system. This time, it was all about Justin.

Or maybe it was the pregnancy.

Yes, that made sense. Her system was flooded with hormones as a result of the pregnancy, a common side effect of which was increased arousal. It wasn’t that she was pathetically weak or even that he was so temptingly irresistible. It wasn’t about Justin at all—it was a basic chemical reaction that was overriding her common sense and self-respect. Because even though she knew that he was wrong for her in so many ways, being with him, being in his arms, felt so right.

She pulled him closer, so that her breasts were crushed against his chest, but still it wasn’t close enough. She wanted to tear away her clothes and his, so that there was nothing between them. She wanted to feel his warm, naked skin against hers; she wanted to feel his hard, sexy body intimately joined with hers.

It was almost as if he could read her mind, because he slid a hard thigh between hers, the exquisite friction dragging a low, desperate moan from deep in her throat. Her fingers curled in the fabric of his shirt, holding on to him, as she rocked her hips against his, silently begging for more. He pressed into her, the hard evidence of his arousal sending happy little sparks dancing through her system.

“You make me crazy,” he said, muttering the words against her lips.

“I’m feeling pretty crazy right now, too,” she admitted.

“Which is precisely why I need to go.”

“Go?” she echoed, confused—and more than a little hurt—by his sudden withdrawal.

He nodded.

“What was this?” She gestured between them. “Just a quick demonstration of how easily you can turn a woman on? How easily you can turn me on?”

He rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip, swollen from his kiss. “Do you think you’re the only one turned on?” he asked her. “I want you so badly I ache.”

“Then why did you stop?” she demanded.

“Not because I don’t want to make love with you,” he assured her. “Because I want you to realize and accept that I want more than a few stolen hours with you. I don’t want you to wake up in the morning and justify your actions on the basis that it was Valentine’s Day and you were feeling lonely, and then push me away again because you’re angry with yourself for giving in to the attraction between us.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” she denied. Then, in response to his skeptical look she added, “Probably not.”

“This way we’ll be sure,” he said, and brushed his lips against hers again. “Good night, Avery.”

Chapter Ten

Avery didn’t like to call Amy at home because she never knew when Henry might be napping—or when Henry’s parents might be taking advantage of the fact that their little guy was napping. Instead, she sent her friend a brief and concise text message.

Help.

Amy immediately called her. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to make it sound urgent, like I was trapped in the back of a closet with a knife-wielding maniac outside the door.”

“There’s no knife-wielding maniac?” Amy asked, sounding just a little disappointed.

“No,” Avery assured her. “Although I do feel like I’m trapped by my closet.”

“Why?”

“Justin’s taking me to meet his parents and I have nothing to wear.”

“You’re going to meet his parents?” Amy sounded intrigued. “That’s an interesting turn of events.”

Avery continued to push hangers on her closet rod, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I agreed to this. I don’t know what I was thinking. And I have no idea what to wear. Are pants too casual? Is a skirt and jacket too businesslike?”

“How about a dress? Something informal but pretty.”

“Informal but pretty?” Avery echoed, shaking her head. “I don’t own anything like that.”

“I’ll be over in fifteen minutes.”

“You don’t have to come over—I just need you to talk me out of my insanity.”

“More easily done in person,” Amy said.

“But it’s Saturday, and I’m sure you’re busy with Ben and Henry.”

“It’s good for Ben to be busy with Henry sometimes,” her friend said. “Besides, they’ll both still be here when I get back.”

True to her word, Amy was there in fifteen minutes—with a garment bag and several shoe boxes in hand.

“Because you knew there was nothing appropriate in my closet,” Avery noted.

“I just wanted you to have a few more options,” Amy said.

“I’m not sure anything from your closet will fit me—I’ve got bigger boobs than you do.”

Amy dumped the shoe boxes on the sofa. “Stop bragging and I won’t hold that fact against you.”

“Merely stating the facts.”

“You’ve got longer legs, too,” Amy admitted, unzipping the bag. “You should show them off more.”

“I don’t—” Whatever Avery had intended to say was forgotten when Amy pulled out a deep blue dress. “Oh.”

“This is my favorite,” Amy told her. “And I think the color will look great on you.”

“You must be my fairy godmother.”

Her friend grinned. “Go try it on.”

She did and was pleasantly surprised to find that the garment looked even better on her than it had on the hanger. The dress had a round neckline, cap sleeves and twisted pleating at the waist that added a nice touch of detail.

Amy nodded approvingly. “It’s feminine and flattering without being too much for a casual dinner—and you really do have bigger boobs.”

“Can we talk about shoes instead of boobs?”

“Okay. What size do you wear?”

“An eight.”

“Then we better look at what’s in your closet because your feet are bigger than mine, too.”

They found appropriate footwear to go with the dress, then Amy looked through Avery’s admittedly limited selection of jewelry to help her accessorize. She found a pair of hammered silver hoop earrings and a couple of silver bangle bracelets.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate this,” Avery said. “Not just letting me borrow your dress but being here to distract me so that I didn’t go crazy watching the clock.”

“Happy to help,” Amy said. “Are you okay now?”

“Actually, I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Morning sickness?” Amy asked, immediately concerned.

She shook her head. “It’s the thought of meeting Justin’s parents that’s making me feel nauseated. Tell me again why I agreed to this.”

“Because Justin’s parents are your baby’s grandparents,” Amy reminded her gently. “And they’re lovely people.”

“You know them?”

Her friend nodded. “Ellen Garrett is on the hospital board so they attend a lot of functions. She’s an absolutely wonderful lady, and her husband is incredibly charming—not unlike his son.”

“So they’re lovely people who will probably hate me when they find out I’m pregnant with Justin’s baby.”

“Are you telling them tonight?”

“No. Justin wanted them to meet me before we said anything about the baby.”

Her friend glanced at her watch. “And I should get out of here before your boyfriend shows up.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know he’s not my boyfriend.”

“That’s right—you’re not dating, you’re just having a baby together.”

“Thanks for the dress,” Avery said, pointedly ignoring the teasing comment.

Amy kissed her cheek. “Be home by midnight or you’ll turn into a pumpkin.”

Dinner at his parents’ house wasn’t a big deal. Taking a woman to dinner at his parents’ house, on the other hand, was.

A very big deal.

Justin had tried to downplay the significance of it to Avery, certain she would have refused his invitation if she suspected what it meant—or what his mother would interpret it to mean. But it was important to him that his parents meet her. He wanted them to know her before they found out about the baby. He wanted them to know not just the mother of their future grandchild but the woman who had captivated him from the day he first met her.

He knew his parents would like her because he did. He wasn’t so sure what Avery would think about his family. It was hard to get a handle on what she was thinking or feeling. He thought he was starting to know her pretty well, but there were still parts of herself that she kept closed off, not just from him but from everybody.

He heard the door unlatch and opened his mouth to speak, then she stepped into view and his brain shut down.

He was accustomed to seeing her at the hospital, with a long white coat covering up whatever else she was wearing. Tonight she didn’t look like a doctor but a woman.

The dress she was wearing gently hugged her tantalizing curves, the knee-length skirt showcasing shapely legs that were further enhanced by the slim heels. Her hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders and her lips shone with a hint of gloss. He’d always thought she was beautiful, but now she was absolutely breathtaking.

He managed to roll his tongue back into his mouth to speak. “I want to say something charming and clever about how great you look, but all I can think is ‘wow.’”

“‘Wow’ works,” she said, offering a shy smile. “So long as it’s a ‘wow, she looks perfect to take home to meet my parents’ rather than ‘wow, I’m making a huge mistake here.’”

“It’s definitely a ‘wow, you look perfect.’”

“I borrowed the dress from Amy,” she admitted. “I didn’t have anything in my closet that seemed appropriate. To meet your parents, I mean. I have clothes, of course, but it’s been a long time since I’ve met anyone’s parents and I didn’t know what to wear. And now I’m babbling like an idiot.”

He smiled at that. “You seem a little bit nervous.”

“Of course I’m nervous.”

“I didn’t think anything ever fazed you,” he admitted.

“I wouldn’t be a very good doctor if I fell apart at the sight of blood,” she pointed out. “But those two lines on the pregnancy test fazed me. Big-time.”

“Well, you don’t need to be nervous about meeting my parents,” he promised her.

“What time are we supposed to be there?”

He glanced at his watch. “In about fifteen minutes.”

“Do they live very far from here?”

“About a ten-minute drive,” he told her.

“Then I guess we’d better get going.” She opened the closet to get her coat. He was sorry that she was covering up the dress, but it was still February and although it had been a sunny day, the temperature tended to drop significantly after the sun went down.

“Ready?” he asked, when she picked up her purse.

“I think so.” She took her keys out of her pocket. “Oh, wait—I almost forgot the pie.”

“Why do you have pie?”

“Because when you’re invited to someone’s house, you don’t show up empty-handed.” She detoured into the kitchen to pick up the dessert.

“I do. At least once a month when I go over to beg a meal.”

“That’s different—they’re your parents.”

He looked at the covered glass dish in her hand. “You actually made a pie?”

“I told you that I took cooking classes,” she reminded him.

“But you didn’t tell me that you could make pie,” he said, undeniably impressed. “So...” He put his hand on her back as they made their way to the elevator. “What kind of pie?”

When they arrived at his parents’ house—a sprawling bungalow of stone and brick—Justin gave a perfunctory knock on the front door before he walked in.

“They’re here,” Avery heard a female voice call out. “Come on, John.”

“I’m coming,” a male voice, sounding eerily similar to Justin’s, replied.

“They don’t get much company,” Justin said, his dry tone making her smile.

Then his parents were there and he made the introductions.

John Garrett shook her hand warmly; his wife, Ellen, pulled her into her arms for a quick hug.

“Avery brought pie,” Justin said, holding out the plate he’d carried from the car.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Ellen said.

“That’s what I told her,” Justin pointed out.

“But it’s very much appreciated,” his mother said.

Her husband peered over her shoulder. “What kind of pie?”

The echo of his son’s question made Avery smile. “Pecan.”

John winked at her. “My favorite.”

“What’s for dinner?” Justin asked.

“Beef Wellington.” Ellen looked apologetically at Avery. “I’m sorry—I didn’t even think to ask Justin if you were a vegetarian or had any food allergies.”

“I definitely eat meat and I don’t have any allergies,” she assured the other woman.

“I never worry about what I’m feeding Justin,” his mother explained. “He’ll eat almost anything that’s put in front of him.”

“Any food I don’t have to cook is a favorite,” he acknowledged.

“Except broccoli,” Avery noted.

Ellen chuckled. “You know about that, do you?”

She realized that she’d inadvertently given the impression that she and Justin were closer than they really were. Aside from his abhorrence of broccoli and his affection for pasta, she really didn’t know much about his likes and dislikes.

“Did you know that he can cook, too?” Ellen asked her. “I made sure that each of my boys knew enough of the basics to put a meal on the table, but he’ll pretend that he can’t if it means someone else will cook for him, so don’t you let him fool you.”

“No one fools Avery,” Justin said.

“But I’ve cooked for you and not had my efforts reciprocated.”

“It sounds like you owe Avery a home-cooked meal,” his mother said.

“I brought her here tonight,” he pointed out.

“That doesn’t count.”

“It should count for something,” he insisted.

Ellen shook her head. “John, take your son into the den and turn on the television to see what’s happening in Daytona—I want to know how Daniel’s driver is doing.”

“You want us to leave you alone with Avery so you can interrogate her?” Justin guessed.

“Of course,” his mother agreed easily. “But don’t worry—I’ll save the waterboarding for after dinner.”

“After dessert,” he suggested. “I want to make sure I get a piece of that pecan pie.”

Avery didn’t panic when Justin left the room. To her surprise—and profound relief—her earlier nervousness had dissipated almost immediately upon entering John and Ellen’s home. Justin’s parents were simply the kind of people who knew how to make a guest feel comfortable and welcome, and even Ellen’s teasing promise of an interrogation didn’t worry her.

At least, not too much.

Ellen started mashing the potatoes. “Can you get the milk out of the fridge, please?”

As Avery did so, her attention was snagged by the numerous photographs on the refrigerator door, affixed by magnets advertising everything from pizza delivery to Pier 39. But it was one picture in particular that caught her eye—a couple with four children, including two boys who couldn’t be anything but identical twins.

“My nephew’s family,” Ellen said, when she saw what Avery was looking at.

She swallowed, suddenly uneasy. “Do twins run in your family?”

The other woman shook her head, and Avery exhaled a quiet sigh of profound relief.

“Quinn and Shane are Georgia’s boys from her first marriage,” Ellen explained. “Pippa was born a few months after her husband died, then she married Matt and they added Aiden to the family.”

“They must be very busy.”

“I’m sure they are,” she acknowledged. “Unfortunately, I don’t get to see them nearly as often as I like because they live in upstate New York. Both of Matt’s brothers are there, too, along with their wives and families.”

“They’re all married?”

“All within twelve months of one another,” she admitted. “Justin’s cousin Nate almost didn’t go to Lukas’s wedding—he was afraid there was something in the water up there.

“Now that I think about it, I don’t think he did drink any water that weekend. Of course, Nate’s married now, too, and not too long after both of his brothers, so maybe he should have worried about the water here.”

Avery smiled. “I actually met Nate and Allison at the Storybook Ball.”

Ellen frowned. “John and I were there, too. I wonder why Justin didn’t introduce you to us that night.”

“I arrived late and he said you left early—something about a friend’s cousin’s boyfriend’s show at the art gallery?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Ellen remembered. She shook her head. “We never should have wasted our time. We’ve always believed in supporting the arts, and young artists in particular, but I’m not sure that what we saw that night would fit even the broadest definition of art. However, I heard the ball was a tremendous success.”

“It was,” Avery confirmed. “And the orthopedics department is going to get its EOS imaging machine.”

“That is wonderful news.” Ellen opened the oven to check on the beef Wellington. “But I’ve got myself sidetracked again—I wanted to know more about you.”

“Well, you know that I’m a doctor.”

“Harvard Medical School followed by a residency at Massachusetts General.”

“You’re on the hiring committee,” Avery suddenly recalled.

Justin’s mother nodded. “I remember when your résumé came in—no one could understand why you’d leave a major hospital in a big city to come to Charisma, and many didn’t believe, even if you did come, that you’d stay.”

“I had some doubts myself,” Avery confided. “Charisma is a different world from Boston, but Mercy is an excellent hospital, and within six months, I knew I didn’t want to be anywhere else.”

“How quickly did Justin hit on you?” his mother asked.

She felt her cheeks flush. “The day of my interview.”

“And now, three-and-a-half years later, he finally got you to go out with him.”

“I know I’m not his usual type,” Avery began.

“I wouldn’t know his usual type,” Ellen admitted. “Justin doesn’t typically bring home any of the women he dates.”

“He doesn’t?”

“Not since college. So when Justin told me that he was bringing a guest to dinner—I didn’t know what to think. Now that I’ve met you...I’m so glad that you’re here—that he found you.”

The sincerity in the other woman’s voice made Avery uneasy. “I’m afraid you’re thinking this dinner means more than it does,” she told her.

Ellen smiled. “I think it means more than you’re willing to admit.”

“Mrs. Garrett—”

“Call me Ellen.”

“Ellen,” she said, trying again. “Justin and I are friends and coworkers, but our relationship really isn’t much more than that.”

“Not much more means that it is something more.”

Trapped by her own words, Avery reluctantly nodded. “I guess it does.”

“That’s good enough for now,” Ellen said, handing her the bowl of mashed potatoes to carry. “Now let’s get this food out before the men start banging their fists on the table.”

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