Praise for Tina Beckett

‘… a tension-filled emotional story with just the right amount of drama. The author’s vivid description of the Brazilian jungle and its people make this story something special.’

—RT Book Reviews on Doctor’s Guide to Dating in the Jungle

‘Mills & Boon Medical Romance lovers will definitely like NYC Angels: Flirting with Danger by Tina Beckett—for who doesn’t like a good forbidden romance?’

—HarlequinJunkie

Midwives On-Call at Christmas

Mothers, midwives and mistletoe— lives changing for ever at Christmas!

Welcome to Cambridge Royal Hospital—and to the exceptional midwives who make up its special Maternity Unit!

They deliver tiny bundles of joy on a daily basis, but Christmas really is a time for miracles—as midwives Bonnie, Hope, Jessica and Isabel are about to find out.

Amidst the drama and emotion of babies arriving at all hours of the day and night, these midwives still find time for some sizzling romance under the mistletoe!

This holiday season, don’t miss the festive, heartwarming spin-off to the dazzling Midwives On-Call continuity from Mills & Boon Medical Romance:

A Touch of Christmas Magic by Scarlet Wilson

Her Christmas Baby Bump by Robin Gianna

Playboy Doc’s Mistletoe Kiss by Tina Beckett

Her Doctor’s Christmas Proposal by Louisa George

All available now!

Dear Reader,

I love Christmas. I love the decorated trees and the coloured lights and all the yummy scents that go along with the holiday. So when I was asked to take part in Midwives On-Call at Christmas, I jumped at the chance. And I’m glad I did. I had so much fun with this story. My characters were all I could have hoped for, and I even sneaked a sprig of mistletoe into one of the scenes. Absolutely romantic!

Thank you for joining Jess and Dean as they make their way through this festive season and tackle some serious issues (all the while treating the tiniest and most adorable patients). Maybe they’ll even share a kiss or two under that mistletoe …

I hope you enjoy their story as much as I loved writing it.

Love,

Tina Beckett

A three-time Golden Heart finalist, TINA BECKETT is the product of a Navy upbringing. Fortunately she found someone who enjoys travelling just as much as she does and married him! Having lived in Brazil for many years, Tina is fluent in Portuguese and loves to use that beautiful country as a backdrop for many of her stories. When not writing or visiting far-flung places Tina enjoys riding horses, hiking with her family and hanging out on Facebook and Twitter.

Playboy Doc’s Mistletoe Kiss
Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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To my husband, who is willing to drop whatever he’s doing to sip hot cocoa and stare at the Christmas lights with me. I love you, honey!

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Tina Beckett

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

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

EPILOGUE

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

JESSICA ANN BLACK was used to chaos. As she arrived at her fifth case of the day—a home birth—that was exactly what she found. Chaos.

Daphne’s birthing coach—who was also her husband—was on the ground beside the bed, out of commission. The woman’s mum was doing her best to calm her daughter, but the shaky voice and panicked expression said she was in over her head.

Taking a deep breath, Jess waded into the fray, her training kicking in. A senior midwife at Cambridge Royal Hospital, she wasn’t called out to many home births, but she’d followed Daphne through two successful deliveries in as many years. When she’d begged Jess to see to this one as well, she hadn’t had the heart to refuse. All had gone well with the other two, so she’d expected the same with the third.

Except it wasn’t.

Daphne gripped the bed, panting in quick breaths. Hurrying over to her, Jess gave her mum’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and asked her to see to Daphne’s husband. Then she focused all her attention on her patient.

“I’m going to check you, love. Give me just a moment.” Snapping on her gloves to measure her patient’s dilation, she found instead the baby had crowned—head pressed tight against her fingertips.

Alarm bells flashed through her system, but she suppressed them. Jess had learned to school her features into bland indifference—no matter what she was faced with. So much so that the hospital often asked her to step in when there was a particularly tense or emotional situation. She somehow had the ability to defuse them.

Maybe because she had plenty of practice doing just that in her own family. Especially with her sister. Only it didn’t always work, as she’d learned the hard way.

“How long have you been like this?” Jess grabbed several towels from the stack of clean ones Daphne had readied at her bedside and laid them just below the woman’s bum.

“Hours.” The word was accompanied by another moan.

Since Jess had only gotten the call fifteen minutes ago, she knew that wasn’t true, but it probably did seem like hours to someone who was scared and alone. Well, she wasn’t alone, but she might as well be.

This baby was coming much faster than the others had. Jess had left the hospital as soon as Daphne’s husband rang her, but somewhere between then and now things had taken a turn, and Rick had fainted dead away. No wonder he’d panicked. Jess had always been here for this part of the delivery. He’d probably locked his knees and sent his blood pressure plummeting until he passed out.

She prayed the baby was still okay.

“You know how to do this by heart, Daphne. Your baby is almost here, so I need you to grab your legs and bear down on your bottom.”

More panting. “I don’t know if I can. Hurts so much more than the others.”

Jess didn’t stop to ask where the other two children were; hopefully they were with someone and not wandering around the house alone. She’d tackle that problem after she handled this one.

If she was good at one thing, it was taking things as they came at her—dealing with one task at a time in the order of urgency. And right now, they needed to get this baby out.

“You can do it, love, absolutely you can.” She helped Daphne get into position and told her to wait for the next contraction and then push. Jess’s phone was on the table next to her, the hospital’s number already on the screen ready to be dialed at the touch of a button.

“It’s here.” Daphne groaned … or maybe the sound came from her husband, Jess wasn’t sure, but her patient began bearing down as Jess counted in slow measured tones.

“Perfect. Take a breath and push again.”

The baby’s head slowly emerged, the characteristic shape from compression very much evident in this little one, which made her again wonder how long he or she had been stuck in the birth canal.

As soon as she delivered the baby’s head, she instructed her patient to stop, while she continued to support the neck and prepared for the hardest part of the delivery: the shoulders.

Daphne had buckled down to work, her earlier panic gone as she concentrated on the job at hand.

“Okay, let’s go at it again.”

The first shoulder appeared, and Jess maneuvered it, easing it out. Then came the second. A little rotation to the left. There! Both were out. “One more good push, Daphne, and we should have it.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the woman’s mother guiding Daphne’s husband to a nearby chair. She called over, “Rick, put your head between your knees. Daphne is doing fine.”

Her patient pushed again and, as she’d suspected, the baby—a girl—slipped right out and into her waiting hands. The newborn cried without any stimulation, making Jess go slack with relief.

“You’ve got a baby girl. Congratulations.” Still holding the newborn, she used the tips of her fingers to pick another towel and draped it over Daphne’s chest. She then placed the baby on it. “Love on her for a minute, while I cut the cord.”

With no one to hand her any instruments, she reached into her bag and found clamps and scissors in sterile packages and ripped them open. She then clamped and cut the cord and delivered the afterbirth.

As soon as everyone was stable, and Rick was back on his feet and standing beside his wife looking rather sheepish, she pressed the dial button on her mobile. Daphne and the baby would need to be checked.

Expecting one of the nurses to answer, she tensed for a second when a low masculine drawl brushed across her ear. “Cambridge Royal Hospital, Dean Edwards here.”

Dean Edwards. Special Care Baby Unit doctor and one of the hospital’s most eligible bachelors. Definitely its most notorious from all of the whispered love-’em-and-leave-’em tales that floated through the hospital’s corridors.

Forcing her voice to remain absolutely level and calm even though her pulse had rocketed through the roof, she informed him of the situation and that she was arranging for transport to take the family to hospital. She asked that someone be there to meet them when they arrived.

“Will you be arriving with them?”

She hesitated, tempted for some strange reason to say yes. Shaking herself free of the urge, she said, “I have somewhere else to be, but I’ll make sure they get off without any problems.”

“I’ll be waiting.” The words sent a strange shiver through her. Almost as if he’d be waiting for her.

Ridiculous. Back to reality, Jess.

She still had her mum and dad’s anniversary party to get through as soon as she left here. The last thing she needed was to be mooning over Dean Edwards. Besides, she needed all her wits about her, because the party meant she would be facing her twin sister, who she’d only seen a handful of times since Abbie’s wedding day.

The day Abbie had married Jess’s fiancé.

“You’re still after him aren’t you? You’d love it if something happened and we broke up.”

Jess stood there in shock as her sister’s furious words poured over her.

After him? The familiar accusation ripped open old wounds and laid them bare.

Hadn’t it been the other way around six years ago? Martin had been Jess’s fiancé, until Abbie—just like with everything else—had decided she wanted what her sister had.

“Just stop it, Abbie. I’m not up to it tonight.” The pounding in her temples attested to that fact.

“Well, that’s too bad. Because I have a few things I want to get off my chest, and since we’re both here …”

Jess took a breath and reminded herself that they were at their parents’ thirtieth anniversary party and that her sister was seven months pregnant with her fourth child. Throwing another brick on the restraining wall that held back her own bitter feelings, she tried again.

“Let’s not fight, Abbie.” She made her voice as calm as possible, trying to ward off the inevitable. “This isn’t the time or place.”

“Who’s fighting? Certainly not me.”

“No? It sure sounds like it. Those text messages weren’t from me. Did you ever think about ringing the number, or asking Martin directly?”

Her sister had basically accused her of sexting her husband while he was away on business trips. It was ludicrous to have to defend herself against such a ridiculous accusation. Besides, she couldn’t imagine Martin being stupid enough to leave incriminating texts on his phone for Abbie to find. There had to be another explanation. Unfortunately, Martin was away on yet another trip.

“I’m asking you, instead.” Her sister’s thunderous expression made her take a step back.

“You can well and truly have him, Abbie. I don’t want him back.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say that she’d found someone else—that she was madly in love. But she didn’t. Because there was no one even on the horizon. Madly or otherwise.

She hadn’t gone out on a date in ages.

“Oh, really?” Her sister put a hand to her belly, disbelief written all over her face. “Well, you’d better make sure it stays that way.”

Jess’s teeth ground together, her anger rising. “That’s enough.”

“I still have a few things to make perfectly clear.”

This was why she avoided being in the same room as her twin, going so far as to move from London to Cambridge. Those five minutes in the birthing suite—when her sister had arrived first—had set a pattern that continued to this day. Abbie had to be first in everything. Or at least look like it. She’d excelled at everything she touched, outdoing Jess whenever she got the chance. Her sister had even followed her to uni and studied midwifery, going one step further and making it look as if she’d had the idea first.

Abbie had the home and the family her mum had always wanted both her girls to have. Another source of contention, since her parents felt Jess poured too much of herself into her career.

But she loved her job. She wasn’t substituting one thing for another. Nor was she worried about her biological clock running out.

She lowered her voice, aware that her mum was now looking at them from across the room with a frown. Time to put a stop to this. “This isn’t a competition. It never was.”

“You think I’m competing? With you?” Her sister took a step closer, crowding Jess against the buffet table, ignoring the guest who tiptoed around them, plate in hand. “Believe me, you’d know it if I were.”

The problem was, Jess did know it. It was the reason she’d had little to do with her sister since agreeing to be her maid of honor—the day Martin had stood at the front of the congregation and watched the bridesmaids glide down the aisle of the church. He’d spared her hardly a glance—eyes only for Abbie. That had been one of the worst nights of her life. Her sister had gloated openly, even as she’d claimed to be glad to leave behind her aspirations of becoming a midwife. Martin and Abbie’s first child was born seven months later. She’d been “blissfully happy” ever since.

“Listen, Abbie, if I were going to send sexy texts to someone, it certainly wouldn’t be to Martin.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

More anger flared inside of her. She couldn’t believe her sister was doing this at their parents’ party. They’d come all the way to Cambridge from their home in London just so Jess could attend—her crazy hours leaving her little time for holidays or anything else. Leave it to Abbie to try to ruin their efforts by thinking of no one but herself. Well, this time, Jess was going to call her on it.

The restraining wall she had so carefully erected burst at the seams, allowing words she’d vowed never to say to spew out in a rush.

“What I mean is Martin’s gone a little soft around the middle, hasn’t he? Besides, have you ever heard the expression once a cheater always a cheater?”

Her sister flushed bright red. “I can’t believe you just said that. Martin loved me. What were we supposed to do?”

Jess could think of a few things, but the pain behind her eyes was growing, warning her that things were about to get much worse. The last thing she wanted to do was burst into tears in front of her sister.

She slid to the side to get away from Abbie and from her own growing frustration. “Okay, I’m done. This is not the place to be sniping at each other.”

“Sniping? Why, you …” Abbie clutched her stomach with both hands.

Jess rolled her eyes. Whenever challenged by anyone—her parents, her friends, her sister—Abbie always felt dizzy, or sick … or too exhausted to “have this conversation”.

“Let’s just call a truce and go back to our own sides of the room, okay?”

“I think—” Her sister moaned. “I think something’s wrong with the baby.”

She suddenly realized all the color had leached from Abbie’s face. Her sister had also reached out to grip the table, knocking over a tiered set of plates that held expensive hors d’oeuvres.

Crash!

The china exploded on the ground spraying tiny crab cakes and stuffed mushrooms in every direction.

The whole room went silent, all eyes coming to rest on the twins. Jess’s anger transformed to horror.

Because Abbie wasn’t acting or trying to garner sympathy. Jess recognized the signs enough to know her sister was in labor.

And the baby was two months early.

CHAPTER TWO

SHE’D BEEN HERE for hours.

Dean Edwards had popped into Cambridge Royal’s Special Care Baby Unit five times since his shift started to check on his tiny charges, and each time he’d spied her standing in almost the exact same spot with her shoulder propped against the wall staring at the row of cots.

Dressed in a red party frock that hugged her slender frame, she’d obviously come from some kind of celebration. Only she wasn’t celebrating now.

In fact, she looked devastated, as if the baby she hovered over had passed away. But although tiny, the newborn was very much alive. And right now, those bloodshot eyes and tracks of mascara were doing a number on his gut, and he didn’t like it.

Not much got to him in his thirty-five years. Except a woman crying. It brought back memories of unhappy times and unhappy people.

He’d been willing to let her stand there as he worked, but the increasing tightness in his throat finally drove him to clear it and cross over to her.

“She’s going to be okay, you know.” He kept his voice low and soothing, partly to avoid startling the sleeping babies and partly to keep her from realizing how her obvious grief had affected him.

She didn’t even glance in his direction. “It’s my fault she’s here in the first place.”

That made him frown. “Sometimes these things just happen.”

“Do they?”

Light brown wounded eyes swung to meet his and the punch to his midsection was nothing like that earlier uneasiness.

“Yes.” He leaned his shoulder against the same wall so that their faces would be level with each other. Long and lean, she was still a head shorter than he was. “And you need to get some rest. You can’t do her any good, if you’re exhausted.”

Her eyes closed for a minute and her chest rose and fell before she looked at him again. “I’m not her mother.”

Those words made his frown deepen. Had he detected a wistful note in her voice? “I know who you are.”

“I’m Jessica …” She blinked, arms wrapping around her waist. “You do?”

Why so surprised? They’d spoken on the phone earlier today.

“Did you think you were invisible or something? If so, you should know—” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper “—your invisibility cloak might need recharging.”

That was the truth, because with her long blonde hair, soft caring eyes and a laugh that could melt the hardest of hearts, there was no way he could have missed noticing her from the moment she’d started working at the hospital. And because of that, he’d done his damnedest to avoid her. Until now. When he couldn’t.

A trace of a smile appeared on her face. “Really? Because most times, I pretty much feel … Scratch that.” She stood upright with a shrug. “Sometimes people confuse me with my sister. We do look quite alike.”

The sister?

He’d seen her. Had been there right after her baby was born. And while there were obvious similarities in coloring and bone structure, that ended when you looked beyond, to what was inside. Maybe her sister’s frown lines were due to worry about her child, but Dean didn’t think so. Because Jessica’s brows were smooth and clear. The only lines she had were little crinkles at the far corners of her eyes that spoke of smiles and laughter.

“Do you think so?” he asked. “Because I’m just not seeing it.”

Up went delicate brows. “We’re twins. Identical twins.”

He couldn’t stop himself from poking at what was evidently a sore spot. This woman revealed a lot about herself without saying much at all. “So you’re saying not even your mother could tell you apart?”

“Of course she could, it’s just that …” Another quick breath. “Some people can’t.”

Dean glanced at the babies across from him, a rare moment when they were still all snoozing away, the clicking of ventilators and beeping machinery the only sounds in the room besides the two of them. He’d like to keep it that way, if possible. These little ones needed rest. Lots of it. They weren’t the only ones. Jessica Black looked well and truly exhausted, so much so that he was surprised she was still standing. She needed to take a break.

Against his better judgement, Dean was going to suggest she do just that.

“Have you been home yet?”

She shook her head, still staring at the cots. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I know, but you look like you could use some downtime—I know I could. Do you want to go somewhere and grab a bite? My treat.”

Something about the way she’d blamed herself for her niece’s premature birth made him want to find out why she would think something like that. The time he’d seen her sister beside the baby’s incubator had given him pause. Jess had been there as well, but the sisters hadn’t spoken a word to each other. In fact, the chill in the room had been almost palpable.

Instead of nodding or politely turning him down, Jess blinked. “Excuse me?”

Not quite the reaction he’d expected. “I was asking if you wanted to get something to eat.”

“I heard what you said.”

Okay, so coming over here to comfort her was evidently the wrong choice. She didn’t seem to want it. Any of it.

Since he’d already asked, though, what choice did he have except to see this through to the bitter end?

“So, is that a yes? Or a no?”

“Oh, it’s definitely a no. Not interested.” She shook her head. “I may look like her, but I’m definitely not her. And your timing, by the way, is lousy.”

Timing?

Bloody hell. Did she think he was trying to hit on her because she looked like her sister? If so, this day was just getting better and better. He’d heard bits and pieces of enough conversations to know that he had a reputation. An undeserved one. He was squeaky clean as far as keeping his professional life separate from his private. Beyond that, though, all bets were off.

He forced himself to glance at his watch and give her an easy grin, even as his back molars ground against each other. “Really? Because where I come from, timing is everything. And this is the time I normally eat supper. Not go to bed.”

There were several seconds of absolute silence. When she looked at him again, her cheeks bloomed with red.

Maybe he should soften his words a little. “I promise this is about sitting down to a meal and giving yourself a much-needed break. Nothing else.”

“Oh, Lord.” She tipped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just … I thought …”

Yeah, sweetheart. I know exactly what you thought. And she was partially right. With a roomful of sick babies, and after a particularly exhausting shift, bed was exactly where his mind was heading.

As in falling into it. To sleep. By himself.

“Supper,” he confirmed. “I’ll stay on my side of the table the whole time.”

If anything, her color deepened. “It’s been a difficult day. It was my parents’ anniversary. And with Abbie going into labor in the middle of it, I’m not thinking straight.”

All my fault.

Wasn’t that what she’d said when he first came over to talk to her?

Suddenly he wanted to know why she blamed herself. “Which is why you need to get away for a bit. I know a great little place just around the corner that serves wonderful Indian cuisine. And it leans a bit to the fancy side, so you won’t be overdressed.” He allowed the side of his mouth to kick up again to reassure her.

She didn’t smile back. Instead, her glance went to her dress and then back toward the row of special-care cots. “Are you sure she’ll be okay?”

Instead of answering her, and since he couldn’t give her any long-term prognosis at the moment, Dean took his stethoscope from around his neck and dropped it into his pocket. After washing his hands, he went over to the baby’s incubator. He could feel Jess’s eyes on him the whole time as he slid his hands through the holes on the side of the bed and stroked a tiny hand, checking the readouts on the stand next to the cot.

“She’s stable.” For the moment, although he knew that could change at any time. “She’ll be watched carefully, but I can leave a call number for us at the desk if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Yes. It would. Thank you.”

Dean wasn’t sure why she wanted them to ring her rather than the baby’s own mother, but he knew better than to ask.

Snapping off his gloves and discarding them, he motioned toward the door. “I’ll just go hang up my coat and sign out. Do you want to meet me by the front door of the maternity unit?”

She nodded. “I’ll let my sister know where I’m going.” Without another word, she slid through the door of the SCBU and headed down the hallway, her red dress swishing around her hips in a way that made him rethink just how tired he was.

Too tired.

And she worked at the hospital.

A combination that had “do not touch” written all over it.

Dean had never been one to play by any set of rules except his own. But this was definitely one of them: don’t get involved with any one female … and especially not one he worked with on a regular basis. Even though Jess didn’t work on his floor and he didn’t see her every day, it still counted. Getting too involved could get tricky. And ugly.

If ever he needed to stick to the game plan, it was now. He’d been able to abide by his inner rules in the past. And he could damn well do it now.

Jess recognized the place. All those rumors about Dean were usually centered around this particular restaurant—as in he’d been spotted here. More than once, and always with a woman in tow.

She swallowed. With soft lighting and half walls that divided the space into smaller clusters of diners, she could see why. The restaurant fostered an atmosphere of quiet intimacy.

For what? Discreet affairs?

Jess wasn’t sure what madness had her sitting across from the playboy of Cambridge Royal, but something had obviously addled her brain. And from the way the hostess greeted him by name, eyes journeying over his tie and dress shirt—and the way he filled it out—as they came through the door, he’d been here many times before.

That brought up another question. The tie. Where had he come up with that? Did he keep one in his office just for spur-of-the-moment dinner dates? If so, it evidently got a lot of use. It would seem those rumors were true.

Which brought her back around to the insanity of being here. With him.

That argument with her sister and its aftermath had left her heartsick. Even her mum had shot her a couple of disappointed glances as they’d waited for the doctors to check Abbie over.

Had she done enough to avoid that confrontation? She’d tried to shut it down, but, in her desperation to get away, she’d been much harsher than necessary.

But the idea that she’d been engaging in some long-distance pillow talk with Martin while he was away on business trips was so ludicrous, she hadn’t been sure how to answer her. Abbie didn’t even have proof that Martin was engaging in anything of the sort. With anyone. Just some vague messages on his phone that could have meant anything.

Why hadn’t Jess just walked away the second she realized her sister’s temper was beginning to flare out of control? Instead, she’d stood there and defended herself in front of a roomful of guests. Moving the venue of the anniversary party to Cambridge had already made for a tense atmosphere, and by fighting with Abbie in the middle of their celebration she’d made things worse for everyone. Including that little one hooked up to machines in the Special Care Unit.

God. Her eyes closed as another shard of guilt stabbed through her stomach.

“Hey. You okay?”

Dean’s voice had a gruff soothing quality as it drifted over her. One she’d never noticed before this second.

She blinked back to awareness. Exactly what did that mean? She only crossed paths with the man in those odd moments when their jobs intersected, which wasn’t all that often. Her midwife duties kept her in one section of the hospital, while Dean’s kept him in another.

But you noticed him. You know you did. How could you not with all that gossip about his exploits?

Yes. She’d heard those stories. Time and time again. Only no one she knew had actually claimed to have made it into Dean Edwards’ bed. Or anywhere else, for that matter. But he’d been seen around Cambridge. And never with the same woman. The descriptions varied, but the pattern didn’t.

“I’m fine.” She toyed with her serviette. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask for the fifth time if he was sure it was all right to leave the baby, but she clamped down on it just in time to stop the question from emerging. The hospital would ring if there was any change.

The waiter arrived with a bottle and a question on his face. When Dean nodded, the man poured white wine into both of their glasses. Not that she needed to be drinking at a time like this. But it was only one glass, and, since she didn’t keep any kind of alcohol in her house because of her dad, she didn’t get to indulge all that often. Maybe it would stop the mad pounding in her chest at sitting across from the first attractive man in … well, since she and Martin had broken it off. Her sister might as well have poisoned the entire male species. Or at least made Jess feel like the consolation prize to anyone who might show some interest. Because when she was set side by side with her sister, Abbie was the one they’d chosen. Every. Single. Time.

She and Abbie might look alike, but their personalities were at opposite ends of the spectrum. Jess was the socially awkward one, the one who had trouble forming and keeping deep friendships, while Abbie was vivacious and outgoing, able to charm anyone she came in contact with. And her sister always got what she wanted.

And what she’d wanted was the very thing Jess had always dreamed of having. A place where she lived in no one else’s shadow … where she truly belonged. At one time she’d equated that with having her own home and family.

When that possibility had been ripped away, she’d thrown herself into her job, doing all she could for her patients and their little ones. Maybe her parents were right. Maybe she was too dedicated. Looking at her tiny new niece had made her stomach churn with a longing she’d all but forgotten.

This was Abbie’s fourth baby.

Jess had none. And no prospects of a serious relationship or any children in the near future.

She picked up her glass of wine, swirling the liquid to block the direction of her thoughts. Conversation. That was what she needed. Racking her brain, she tried to think of something that would break the growing silence. Something witty. Something that would make her feel a little less dull. Dean’s eyes were now on her, a slight furrow forming between his brows.

Say something!

“I’ve never been here before. Do you come here often?”

Oh, no! Why had she asked that, of all things? A few seconds of silence followed the question before he spoke.

“Often enough.”

His jaw tightened a fraction.

This was definitely where he brought his women.

His women?

She crinkled her nose at that thought. Wow, she was really outdoing herself tonight. Worse, what if someone she knew was here? She sank a little lower in her seat, taking a sip of wine and swallowing it. “Really? It’s my very first time.”

Dean, who’d been in the process of lifting his glass to his lips, stopped with it midway to its goal. The furrow between his brows deepened, then he gave his head a slight shake as if clearing it and took a drink. A good-sized one if the movement of his throat was any indication.

Did he think she was flirting with him? She hoped not, because if he did, there was no telling what he might—

“What are you thinking about?”

Caught!

“My niece.”

Those words brought her back to earth with a bump. Her niece’s situation was the only reason she was sitting here in this restaurant.

Could the newborn sense the antagonism flowing between her and her sister, even in the SCBU? Abbie hadn’t spoken to her since the baby’s delivery, despite her mother’s attempts at playing peacemaker.

Poor Mum. Some anniversary this had turned out to be.

He set his wine down. “You said it was your fault. You know that’s not true.”

“Abbie and I were in the middle of a row. She went into labor. If I’d just walked away …”

Would the outcome have been any different? Abbie had been bound and determined to have her say.

But surely Jess could have changed the direction of the conversation. Maybe. Her sister had always known exactly which buttons to push—which insecurities to choose—to get her going. Today had been no exception.

“Coincidence.”

“Really? Stress can induce labor—you know that as well as I do.” She paused a beat and then let the rest of it out. “She thought I was sending suggestive texts to her husband.”

That got a reaction. Dean’s eyes narrowed just a touch. “Were you?”

“No!” She fiddled again with the corner of her serviette. “I mean, Martin and I were engaged at one time, but once he saw Abbie—”

She couldn’t finish the sentence.

Instead of pressing her for details, Dean chuckled.

That shocked her. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

“Well, not funny exactly. So your sister had her eye on your fiancé, and now that she has his ring on her finger, she’s worried you might want him back.”

That was it in a nutshell. It had been six years, but Abbie just couldn’t let it go. It was one of the reasons Jess had moved to Cambridge in the first place, to get away from the constant haranguing and jealous questioning.

“I don’t want him. At all.”

“I can well imagine.”

Which brought her back to the current dilemma. “I have no idea how to make her believe me.”

The conversation paused when the waiter brought their food. Curried chicken with rice and vegetables served family style. Before she could lift a finger, Dean had taken her plate and dished up some of the fragrant food. Too bad she didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment.

Once Dean had served himself, he had no problem picking up where they’d left off. “So you think your sister is going to keep accusing you of trying to steal her husband … aka your ex.”

Using her fork, she speared a piece of chicken. “She lives in London, so, once she goes back, I’m hoping it’ll die back down. Or that Martin will be able to convince her we’re not communicating behind her back.”

“Mmm … I see.” He popped a bite into his mouth and chewed. Swallowed.

Why was she even telling him any of this? And what was with her watching the man’s throat? It had to be the way that sharp edge of his Adam’s apple dipped, causing her eyes to want to follow it. All the way down to his … She jerked her eyes back to his face.

Dean continued. “No current love interest to throw her off the trail?”

“No.” She hurriedly stuffed a piece of food into her mouth, even as she felt her face heat all over again. If he only knew how true those words were, he would think she was a complete washout when it came to the opposite sex.

In fact, the two of them should not even be having this conversation. She barely knew the man.

But what she did know of him … He was rumored to have a revolving bedroom door. Women in … women out. Swish, swish, swish turned that door.

“What if you did?” he murmured.

“Excuse me?”

He smiled at that. “You’re not going to turn that cute little glare back on, are you?”

“Excuse … I mean, what?”

“That’s better.” He set his fork down and reached across to touch his fingers to hers. A shot of electricity arced through her hand and zipped straight up her arm. “I was just sitting here thinking. Maybe you should hand her proof of a conquest or two?”

It was said with a cheeky air that made her laugh. Not because it was funny, but because he said it as though it weren’t such a stretch to imagine that she might have a long list of failed romances.

She didn’t. She left things like that to her sister. And to men like Dean.

“I don’t have any conquests.”

His index finger brushed along hers, sending another shiver through her. “Do you always say exactly what you think, Jessica Black?”

“No.” Although that wasn’t quite right. She did tend to wear her heart on her sleeve, which was why her sister had always been able to zero in on what Jess wanted out of life—on which boy Jess liked. Then she turned on her million-kilowatt charm and took it for herself.

“Oh, I think you do.” The low words curled around her midriff, squeezing the air from her lungs. “But maybe we can use that to our advantage.”

“Um … we?”

“Mmm.” He leaned across the table. “How about if we show your sister exactly how her little game is played.”

“I—I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I think you need to show her you can round up your own men, thank you very much.”

“Men? Plural?”

“Why not?”

Her gut churned. “How can you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Go to bed with hundreds of women as if it’s nothing special.”

His gaze hardened. “The hospital grapevine strikes again.”

“It’s not like you haven’t been seen here. You have. The hostess knows your name, for heaven’s sake.” The words just kept pouring out. “I’m not judging. I just don’t know how it’s possible to have casual sex without feeling something … anything. Do the women just go along with it? Or do you simply stop ringing them after you’ve gotten what you wanted?”

The bitterness of everything that had happened with Martin came rushing back. The giving of her heart—her body—and then having him stop ringing her one day. Finding out he’d been seen with her sister and to have them show up at her door and spill the beans, that he’d been going out with Abbie while still engaged to her.

“What makes you think that the ‘casual’ in casual sex isn’t on both sides? That the woman isn’t just as interested in keeping things simple? Have you ever tried it?”

“Well, no.” And she hadn’t. Maybe that was why it seemed impossible to believe that two people could share a bed and then each go their separate ways the next day with no hurt feelings—no misunderstandings.

“Maybe you should. It’s a hell of a lot different when neither party expects anything out of the arrangement other than a single night of pleasure.”

The way his gravelly voice touched that last word sent a ripple through her midsection. What would it be like to have your physical needs met and then not expect anything further?

Maybe he was right. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as it sounded.

And it could make her sister finally believe she was over Martin … that she’d been over him for a long time.

“Maybe I should.”

One side of his mouth went up, and he leaned over the table. “Bet you can’t.”

She sat up a little straighter. If he could do it, surely she could. Unless he was calling her a prude. “Of course I can.”

“Prove it.”

Oh, no. This was not where she’d seen this conversation heading. “And how exactly am I supposed to do that? Are you going to hide in a cupboard and watch me?”

“No.” A little of the mellowness in his voice had faded and a sharper edge had appeared. “But I can feel out the men. Make sure they’re safe.”

Jess could not believe she was even having this conversation. “So you would interview any prospective bed mate to make sure they aren’t a serial rapist? Exactly where would this ‘finding my own men’ be done? A pub?”

One thing Jess was good at was sizing up personalities. Except how good had she been at sizing up Martin? Not great. Maybe she did need someone to help scope things out. Not that she was actually thinking of doing anything of the sort.

Was she?

Evidently she was.

“A pub is perfect,” he said.

He didn’t say it, but she got the distinct impression that that was where Dean picked up some of his prospective one-night stands.

Suddenly Jess was backpedaling like mad. She really didn’t think she could go through with it, but, since she’d criticized Dean, she could understand why he’d taken offense. Just because she didn’t have casual sex once a week didn’t make it wrong that he did. “And you would be what? My wingman?”

He tossed his serviette on the table. “Your wingman.” He said it as if sounding it out. “I like it. I think that would work.”

Oh, no, she had no intention of doing anything like what Dean was proposing. But the thought of letting the man see how much it bothered her …

What if she made it look as if she were going along with it? That way, even if she wiggled her way out of the dates, she could still tell her sister she was going out. Maybe it would even ease some of the bad feelings between them.

A thought came to her. What if Dean picked up a woman while she was there? The last thing she wanted was to see him walk out of that pub with someone. She had no idea why, but she didn’t. “So let’s say I agree to chat up three men—” she was careful not to actually say she would go on to have sex with these men “—then you have to do something as well. How about, you have to promise to leave the pub alone. Go without. See how the other side lives.”

“So basically you would be the only one having fun?”

“Exactly. Think you can handle it?”

Dean leaned forward, one brow raised at the challenge. “Sweetheart, you’ve got yourself a bet.”

CHAPTER THREE

DEAN HAD NO idea why he’d goaded Jess into that ridiculous bet. They’d gone to the pub twice so far and she’d easily found herself a partner both nights, slipping out of the place within an hour.

He wasn’t sure why he’d done it. Or why he’d been so adamant about going with her. Maybe because it bothered him that she compared herself to her sister. And she did. He heard it in her words, saw it in the uncertain way her fingers twisted together when she talked about her.

And his own part of the bet?

Laughable, because she seemed to think he picked up a different woman every night.

It would be kind of hard to do his job if he spent all his nights having wild sex. Although he could think of one woman he might be tempted to make that sacrifice for.

Not that he would.

Especially since he’d promised that very woman that he would have no sex. At all. At least not for the next several nights.

“Dr. Edwards? Is everything all right?”

Sitting in a rocking chair in the corner and holding a tiny baby to his shoulder, he realized he’d zoned out for a few seconds. “Fine. I’m just getting ready to put her back.”

His job didn’t necessarily include cuddling his charges, but there was something about this one. Born to a drug-addicted mum, the little boy was off to a rocky start. But at least the child-welfare people had stepped in and insisted the mother clean up her act before allowing her anywhere near the child.

That was more than he had gotten when he was young. Then again, it was his father who’d had the addiction problem, not his mother.

He rubbed a few more gentle circles across the newborn’s back. At least the baby had quieted down. When pregnant women took drugs, there were two victims. The baby’s mother … and her child, who was now suffering through withdrawals—through no fault of his own.

Standing to his feet, he gave the nurse a quick smile before tucking the baby back into his cot. “Feel free to page me if this happens again.”

She nodded, smiling back.

Young and attractive with curly brown hair and sparkling eyes, Deidre had made it a point to call him back whenever she had a particularly difficult case. He wondered if that was for the baby’s benefit or hers. It didn’t matter. He’d decided a long time ago it was better to leave his personal life at home and his professional life at the hospital. It was just better that way.

“You have such a way with them.”

Did he? It seemed that anyone who offered these little guys a bit of love and affection would get the same response. And maybe that stemmed back to his childhood as well. He didn’t want any of them to feel as alone as he’d once felt. And this particular baby had quieted down almost as soon as he’d settled into the rocker with him.

“I think it’s just the body contact.”

She raised her brows and went over to look at the now sleeping infant. “No, I think you just have the magic touch.”

Not so magic.

He glanced at his watch, his jaw tightening. Tonight was the last night of his and Jess’s bet, and suddenly the last thing he wanted to do was watch her walk out of that pub with yet another man. He’d made her ring him at home as soon as she arrived, and again after the man left her house, so that he would know she was safe.

Another thing he was nonplussed about. Of course she was safe. Jess was a grown woman and between the two of them they’d picked out the meekest, mildest-looking men they could.

Okay, that was probably all him, because Jess had talked to a couple of attractive muscular-looking chaps, but they’d made him uneasy.

Or was it just that he couldn’t stand the idea of her spending the night with someone she might actually decide to go out with more than once.

Nope. That wasn’t it at all. And just to prove it, tonight, he would let Jess pick out whoever she wanted.

And he wouldn’t do a thing to stop her.

Having a wingman was the pits.

On their third and final outing, Jess was glad it was their last. Her days were spent with her niece, and her nights … well, her nights were Dean’s. But not in the traditional sense.

As much as she wanted to skip out of the pub and go home alone, Dean was always there. Always checking out the patrons. And, hell, if he didn’t always steer her toward men that looked as if they were laced tighter than a corset. It was never the good-looking ladies’ man, or anyone who was like Dean himself. No. In fact, whenever one of those types hit on her, somehow Dean was always there with a glare or a sharp word.

Why did he even care? Wasn’t this all about the bet—about seeing what it was like to have a few nights of casual sex? That was what it had started out as.

Instead, Dean brooded. Off in the corner, he would nurse a glass of Scotch and watch her sit awkwardly at the bar. If he approved of whoever offered to buy her a drink he stayed put, if he didn’t … well, if he didn’t, he appeared next to her like an avenging angel and chased the man off.

So for the last two date nights—Jess had faked it. She pretended to leave with one of the pre-approved men and then bolted, feigning a headache or stomach virus. Maybe it was fortunate that the men were as nervous and unsure as she was, because it meant she went home alone.

Her one consolation was that Dean left by himself as well. At least, if he was keeping to his side of the bargain. From his grouchy demeanor at the hospital over the last couple of days, she’d say he really had slept alone.

Why that mattered, she had no idea.

She screwed up her courage for one last run, and went over to the bar, asking for a dark bitter ale—which she hated. Her friend Amy promised Jess would eventually get used to the stuff if she drank it often enough. Right now, she just wasn’t seeing it. But it was cheap and Amy swore men were impressed by a woman who drank dark ale. Hmm. Her friend was single and pregnant, so while it might attract them, that was evidently all it did. Which might work in Jess’s favor, actually.

She should probably give Amy a call and make sure everything was going okay.

Thank God this was the last night. Even Abbie and her parents had seemed surprised when she told them she had plans again this evening.

“Another date?” The hope in her mum’s voice would have been comical had it not been so very far from reality.

She’d mumbled something that she hoped made sense and then slunk from the room and away from Abbie’s suspicious eyes.

Sighing, she perched on the nearest stool and forced a sip down, glancing across the space and meeting Dean’s eye. This evening he was in a snug black T-shirt and faded jeans, the combination doing a number on her tummy. She’d never seen him dressed this informally. He lifted his own drink—something that looked a whole lot stronger than hers—and gave her a mocking salute before taking a swig of it.

Why was he even here? Surely not to make sure she did what she promised. Because he didn’t look particularly happy to be sitting there waiting for her to leave with her next victim. Or maybe he was just irritated that he wasn’t going to take someone home himself. Either way, this wasn’t fun anymore. Not that it ever had been.

Someone tapped her shoulder, and Jess turned her barstool to meet the smile of a blue-eyed ginger. “You’re a fan of ale, I see.”

The Scottish burr gave away his nationality, rolling across her in a way that made her smile right back. “Not actually, but I’m trying to learn.”

The man leaned forward and gave an audible sniff. “Dark Lady. Not a bad choice.”

Okay, so maybe Amy was on to something. “Are you a fan?”

“I am now.” Jess wasn’t sure if he was talking about the ale or about her. She sized him up. Just how hard was he going to be to get rid of when it came time to leave?

When he covered her hand with his, she had her answer. She tensed, a trickle of panic beginning to gather in her midsection.

She didn’t want to make anyone angrier than necessary. Especially a man like this one. She got the feeling he might be a little more difficult to shake.

Swallowing, she wondered if she could glance back at Dean and get his attention. They hadn’t set up a signal in case she got in over her head. So maybe she should …

The back of her neck prickled just as her newfound companion’s brows pulled together. His hand tightened over hers.

“I was wondering where you’d gotten off to, Jess.”

Dean.

Had he read her mind? As much as she’d been thinking about sending out an SOS, what she really wanted to do was leave and get this whole bet thing over with. It had been beyond stupid. A time waster. For both of them. She never would be a casual-sex type of girl, no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise. It was all fun and games … until someone lost an eye—or their heart.

Not that she was in danger of that from this particular ale aficionado.

But from Dean?

Lord, she hoped not.

She spun around, suddenly deciding she didn’t want or need his help. He’d decided he didn’t approve of this particular man? Well, she would show him that, from now on, she made those kinds of decisions.

Up went her brows. She needed to cut him off before he got started. The last couple of times he’d wanted to get rid of a man who had his eye on her, he’d pretended to be her significant other.

“Mum isn’t expecting us home until later.” She smirked up at him, daring him to contradict her.

His response? A slow, knowing smile.

“Mum knows what we’re like, when we’re out on the town.” He took the ale from her hand and set it in front of the Scotsman. “Enjoy.”

The man let go of her, his possessiveness appearing to change to horror when Dean lifted a brow and said, “Dance with me … sis.”

Then he whirled her into his arms and headed toward the floor where other couples were already moving to the beat of some slow song.

Jess couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I can’t believe you just did that. You’ve probably scarred that man for life.”

There was no way she was going to admit she was relieved. Relieved she wasn’t going to have to try to wave him off on her own.

“I can’t believe you called me your brother.”

“Serves you right for interfering.”

He leaned back to study her face. “Did you want to leave with him?”

No, she didn’t want to leave with him or anyone. But she’d gotten herself into a mess and wasn’t sure how to get herself back out of it. “I thought we had a deal. I leave with three different men, and you leave with no one.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

A warning tingle began at the back of her skull. “What do you mean you’ve changed your mind? Are you reneging on the bet?”

“Yes.” The word brushed across her, and the tingle became a full-fledged shiver.

He pressed his cheek to hers and drew her closer. If the Scotsman wasn’t scarred before at the way Dean had whisked her away, he probably was now.

Jess swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean neither of us is leaving with a stranger. Not you. Not me.” His hand tightened on hers just the way the Scotsman’s had. The intimate contact filled her with alarm, but a completely different kind of alarm. Because she liked it.

“Well, you not leaving with someone was kind of the point, wasn’t it?” Although her voice sounded as shaky as her legs felt, she managed a smile.

“I’m forfeiting. As of now.”

So he was tired of frittering his nights away with nothing to show for it in the end. She should be glad. Because that meant she didn’t have to pretend to leave with anyone now.

But she wasn’t glad. And she wasn’t quite sure why. “You’re a free man. I assume you already have someone in mind.”

“I do.”

Jess turned her head, trying to figure out who the lucky woman was.

He tucked his fingers under her chin and shifted her face back toward his. “You’re wrong. Are you so oblivious about what you do to a man like that?” He nodded in the direction of the bar where she’d sat a few moments ago.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“He wanted to take you home with him.”

“Oh.” Of course she knew that, but then again people in places like this probably weren’t particularly choosy. After all, they were here for the same reason that Dean probably came here. To find a companion for a night of sex.

He chuckled. “You really don’t have any idea, do you?” His fingers left her chin and trailed up the line of her jaw. “There’s only one woman I’m interested in leaving with.”

“Who?” The trembling in her legs came back full force.

“Let’s just say I’m thinking some very unbrotherly thoughts right now.”

Her? He wanted to leave with her. Why?

Wasn’t it obvious? Casual sex, remember?

It was on the tip of her tongue to give him a resounding yes and leap into his arms. But whatever had been niggling in the back of her head grew as she thought through the implications. He was tired of playing the wingman … tired of his little hunger strike. And now he was hoping to break his fast. What easier target than the person he’d coaxed into taking this ridiculous bet in the first place? The person he’d dared to have casual sex with three different men. How easy would it be for Dean to be that third man?

It had nothing to do with her at all. She could be a plastic mannequin for all he cared.

Casual sex, indeed. Maybe that was good enough for him, but it wasn’t for her. He might think her a prude, but she didn’t care anymore.

Hurt surged up from somewhere inside her—a large festering lump that threatened to burst open in front of everyone in the pub.

“I don’t think so, Dean. I have no clue what put this idea into your head, but you can put it right back out. If you want someone to pass the night with, you’d better keep on looking. Because this girl is leaving this whole scene. Alone.”

With that, Jess yanked free of Dean’s hold and stomped out of the pub and into the night.

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