The Surgeon's Miracle / Dr Di Angelo's Baby Bombshell

by Caroline Anderson / Janice Lynn

  She’d awakened in a cold sweat, certain she’d made a grave miscalculation—that thinking she could make Blake notice her as a woman was as foolish as wearing that armadillo suit had been.

  Despite having sent in her RSVP, she didn’t have to go. Most likely no one would even notice if she was there or not.

  No, that wasn’t true.

  Mandy would know. Wasn’t that why she’d sent Darby’s invitation late?

  If she didn’t go, she was saying that she was okay with her and Blake’s relationship never being more than what it was. And, although what they had was wonderful, Darby wanted more.

  She was going.

  Not only was she going, but she was going to have fun.

  And in the process of making Blake notice her she’d make Trey eat his heart out because he’d chosen the head cheerleader over the geeky, too-smart-to-be-understood school mascot. What had he been thinking?

  She’d risen beyond her high school experiences and was a desirable woman who held the power over her life. Wasn’t that what her wannabe-shrink roommate during her first four years at university had said—making Darby repeat the phrase while looking in the mirror each morning, insisting Darby go for formal self-confidence-boosting therapy?

  She was in charge of her life. Dr. Darby Phillips, a woman worthy of respect and admiration. A woman who’d come a long way from wearing a dumpy armadillo suit and longing for a man she couldn’t have.

  Her gaze fell on the man keeping stride next to her.

  Well, no one could accuse her classy navy pants and cream-colored blouse of looking like a scaly animal, at any rate.

  “Ah, come on, Dilly, surely you aren’t still mad at me?”

  Why had she told him the mascot’s name?

  Blake being Blake, of course he’d tease her, call her by that name. She spun to where he’d followed her into her office.

  Knocking his hand away from her plastic heart model, she straightened to her full five feet three inches and poked his thick chest. “Don’t you ever make fun of my having been an armadillo again—do you hear?”

  His eyes widened slightly at her outburst, but a smile curved his full lips. “Ah, Darby, come on. I’m sure you were a cute armadillo.”

  She glared. He was supposed to be groveling, shaking in fear, apologizing, not still laughing.

  “Too bad I didn’t go to your school.” He tweaked her chin, his fingers sending shivers over her flesh. “I’d like to have seen you in that costume. Maybe you could wear it for me this weekend? I promise to show my school spirit.”

  Couldn’t he be serious? Or at least pretend as if he felt threatened? Of course he couldn’t. Blake was one of those annoying perpetually positive folks. As much as that did annoy her at times like these, his disposition was also one of the things she liked most about him. One of the things that had always drawn her to him.

  He made her laugh. Had from the moment they’d met. She’d been so serious, so determined never to let a man make a fool of her again, so focused on getting her medical degree, she’d forgotten how to laugh until she and Blake had been assigned an emergency room rotation together. She might have been up to her eyeballs in work, but one wink from Blake could reenergize her sleep-deprived body and have her smiling from the inside out.

  No one had ever been able to make her feel good the way he could.

  Fighting to hang on to her angry bravado, she rolled her eyes. “The only costume you need to see me in is a white lab coat.” She forced her brows into a scowl. “Isn’t it time for us to get started seeing patients?”

  He sighed with exaggerated effort. “You’re in a foul mood this morning, Dilly.”

  She pursed her lips, crossed her arms and glared up at him. Way up. Why had she worn flats? “No more armadillo jokes.”

  She refused to back down. She didn’t want Blake seeing her in the same light Trey had. After a moment of their facing off—her feigning anger, him grinning—he nodded.

  “Fine, no more school mascot jokes.” He put his fingers up in a Scout’s Honor symbol. “If I get the urge to tease you, I’ll just dill with it.”

  She looked heavenward. “This isn’t funny.”

  He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. “From where I’m standing, it’s pretty funny.”

  “Because you weren’t the one wearing that horrible suit.”

  Perhaps she’d let too much of her past pain bleed through, because Blake stared at her a little too closely.

  “Last I heard, folks aren’t forced to be school mascots,” he pointed out. “They volunteer for the job.”

  “Well, Mr. Know-it-all, sometimes there are extenuating circumstances that cause a girl to wear ugly suits and play a fool.”

  “What extenuating circumstances?” His dark eyes saw too much, and Darby fought from shifting her weight.

  “It’s complicated.” Complicated? Yet another word for humiliating herself in an effort to get Trey’s attention

  Looking way too serious, Blake crossed his arms in a similar stance to her own. “I’ve got time.”

  There were some things that shouldn’t be repeated. Her high school blunders were just a few of them. She glanced at her watch. “I don’t. I need to see my morning patients. Bye.”

  She grabbed her stethoscope and rushed from the office. Without turning to check, she could feel his gaze burning into her, could feel the heat scorching her cheeks.

  She also sensed his amusement. His curiosity.

  “See you later, Dilly,” he called from behind her, no doubt brushing his fingers over her heart model.

  What had she been thinking when she’d told him about that wretched costume? About her nickname? Next thing she knew she’d tell him she’d been voted most likely to die a virgin and had yet to do anything to prove her classmates wrong. For a woman who prided herself on her intelligence, she sure was making a lot of stupid choices.

  But there came a time when a woman had to either don an armadillo suit—or invite a man to spend a weekend in a hotel with her in hopes of being noticed or accept not registering on his radar.

  As insane as her frustration was, Darby was tired of not making a bleep on Blake’s radar.

  She wanted his radar bleeping. For her.

  Which just went to prove how little intelligence she really had.

  Bleeping on Blake’s radar would likely ruin everything she held dear, so why was she bleep, bleep, bleeping in her heart?

  The closer Darby and Blake got to Armadillo Lake on Friday afternoon, the more Darby’s stomach churned.

  What was wrong with her?

  She should be looking forward to the opportunity to return home and show her old schoolmates they’d been wrong about her on most accounts. And she should be excited at the prospect of maybe making Blake see her as a desirable woman…

  After all, hadn’t that been the idea behind her last-minute shopping trip to her favorite lingerie shop? She should be a lot of things, but she suspected if Blake wasn’t the one behind the wheel she’d turn the SUV around and head back to Tennessee pronto. For so many reasons—not the least of which was that she was afraid of what the weekend might do to her and Blake’s relationship.

  But if she wanted more than what she had—and she did—she had to shake things up. Sleeping in the same bed should do that—had he even considered their sleeping arrangements when she’d invited him?

  Darby stole a glance toward him and fought a very feminine sigh of appreciation. God, he was breathtaking. And, for the weekend, he was all hers.

  “You’ve barely spoken the last thirty miles of our drive.”

  “You’ve talked enough for the both of us,” she pointed out.

  He had. Blake could carry on a conversation with a stump. His gift of the gab was a trait she envied. Although she’d taken classes to help her overcome her shyness, she’d been introverted for the earlier years of her life. She hadn’t wanted to be shy, but when you preferred to have your nose stuck in a book than to drive into Pea Rid
ge to cruise the shopping mall—well, popularity wasn’t your middle name.

  “Didn’t your mom tell you not to do that? Your face might get stuck like that.”

  Designer aviator glasses protected Blake’s eyes from the blazing sunshine brightening their drive. If the manufacturer could hire him to model those shades, they’d sell billions. He made them look that good.

  “Like what?” she asked, thinking life was unfair if one man could have been blessed with so many talents. Looks, intelligence, wit. Yet, Blake wasn’t one of those men who walked around thinking he was a million bucks. Despite his teasing about his many charms, he was one of the most genuine persons she knew. Actually, he was the most genuine person she knew. What you saw was what you got.

  She liked what she saw way too much.

  “Like we just drove past another chicken barn with the windows down.”

  Darby bit the inside of her lip to keep from smiling. Not long after they’d crossed the Alabama state line Blake had rolled down the windows to experience some fresh country air. He’d gotten fresh country air, all right.

  “Most likely we did pass another one.”

  This time it was his face that wrinkled—him who looked like he might need to pull the SUV over.

  “I’ll never eat chicken again.”

  Darby laughed out loud. “There are chicken barns in Tennessee. So don’t tell me you’d never experienced a chicken barn up close and personal before.”

  “Apparently I’m still a city boy at heart,” he admitted unashamedly. “From the car is as up close and personal as I want to get to a barn of any type. Especially one as foul as what we smelt earlier.”

  “Foul?” Shaking her head at his double entendre, Darby laughed again. Just as well she wasn’t planning to take him with her when she dropped in on her folks tonight.

  Her stomach jerked again. No doubt her brothers and their wives would start pushing for her to move home. They always did. Her family hadn’t been able to understand why she’d been so driven to leave Armadillo Lake, to get her degree and make something of herself, to see the world. They especially hadn’t understood when her plans to join a traveling medical program had taken a one-eighty turn and she’d stayed in Knoxville.

  Then again, they’d never met Blake.

  “What were you thinking about that made you scowl?”

  She should have known he wouldn’t let her change the subject. He rarely did.

  “About the reunion.”

  He glanced away from the road just long enough for her gaze to meet the mirrored lenses that hid his eyes. He shook his head in confusion. “Most people look forward to high school reunions, to catching up with their old classmates, seeing who married who, who has the most kids, who gained forty pounds, who still has their hair.”

  “Yeah, well.” She turned to stare out the window at the growing all too familiar landscape, her belly lurching. “I’m not most people, City Boy.”

  “That you’re not.” He chuckled, then surprised her by reaching across the gap between their seats and taking her hand into his.

  Clasping their fingers together, he squeezed.

  Her belly gave another jolt, a much larger one than before, and she faced him.

  “No worries, Darby. Whatever it is that has you wound so tightly about this weekend, everything is going to be fine. You’re going to dazzle all your old classmates with your intelligence, success, beauty, and especially with your impressive date.” Smiling, he briefly dipped his head, glancing at her from above the rim of his shades. His black eyes bored into her. “I promise.”

  The warmth emanating from Blake’s hand to hers almost made her believe everything would be all right concerning the reunion—that every fantasy she’d ever had of returning to Armadillo Lake and making everyone eat armadillo…er…crow, would come true.

  Regarding the way every single cell in her body surged to life at how his hand still held hers, at how much she liked his hand holding hers, at how many hopes she had pinned to their spending the weekend together—well, that was another matter altogether.

  CHAPTER THREE

  FOR the dozenth time since they’d arrived at the Armadillo Lake Lodge, Darby stared at the queen-sized bed monopolizing the standard hotel room.

  “Forget it,” Blake warned, stepping next to her. His hands rested on his lean hips as he stared at the bed, too. “I’m not sleeping in a chair.”

  He thought she wanted him out of the bed? What would he say if she admitted to having been imagining the two of them there? To wondering what it would be like to spend the entire weekend in bed with him? Laughing, playing…something more…?

  He’d probably laugh and tell her to be serious.

  She sighed, shaking the bottle of fruity disinfectant she’d sprayed onto the top of the gaudy brown and orange comforter that likely had been in use since the lodge had first opened.

  “I didn’t say you had to sleep in a chair.”

  If they didn’t share the bed, news would spread like wildfire. This was Armadillo Lake. Everyone knew everyone’s business. After cleaning the room, Gertrude Johnson would no doubt spill the juicy tidbit to anyone who’d listen. The Johnsons had run the only hotel within a thirty-mile radius for as long as Darby could remember. If not for the tearoom that served as the town’s only “nice” restaurant, and the large ballroom that hosted all major town events, the place would likely have gone out of business years ago. Armadillo Lake didn’t attract many tourists.

  Just unsuspecting women returning for their high school reunion while trying to convince the man of her dreams that she was the woman of his dreams. No biggie.

  She turned to look at him. Despite their six-hour drive, he looked crisp. Not a wrinkle on the gorgeous man’s khaki shorts that fell to just above his knees, nor on his expensive polo shirt. Just once she’d like to see him rumpled.

  Her gaze shot back to the bed.

  Okay, so she wanted to rumple him and rumple him thoroughly. More than once. A girl could dream, couldn’t she?

  She swallowed.

  She had to quit this fantasy stuff. Blake was here to help her. If their near proximity helped him see her as a female, then so be it—but she didn’t plan to throw herself at him. Either Blake wanted a relationship with her or he didn’t.

  Her gaze fell on the bed again.

  “The bed’s plenty big for the both of us. We’ll share.” She narrowed her eyes to what she hoped were menacing slits. “You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.”

  “Dibs on the top side.”

  “Fine, you can have that top side, and I’ll take this top side.” She pointed to the side of the bed closest to the bathroom for herself.

  “That wasn’t exactly what I meant.” He laughed, watching her lift the comforter and spray disinfectant between the sheets and on the underside of the comforter. “You’re the only person I know who disinfects hotel room beds.”

  Darby shrugged. She wasn’t exactly a germ-a-phobe. But she’d seen one too many television specials about what crawled around in hotel room beds not to come prepared, and she always brought her own pillow.

  “Here.” She tossed the spray bottle to him. “You’re a big boy. Disinfect your own side.”

  Catching the bottle, he grinned. She turned to unpacking her clothes. Holding her breath, she pulled a black lacy number from her suitcase and dropped it into the drawer she’d also disinfected.

  She glanced up in time to see Blake’s gaze following her movements as she dropped another pair of tiny panties into the drawer.

  His feet shifted. He swallowed. He tugged on the collar of his polo shirt.

  When his gaze met hers, Darby had no doubts.

  If this weekend accomplished nothing else, Blake had just realized she was a woman.

  A woman who had a predilection for fancy undergarments.

  In that moment, Blake wanted her.

  She’d wanted him always.

  Now what? Could her fantasies become realities,
or would her hopes only lead to disaster?

  Still fighting his reaction to the skimpy silk scraps Darby had pulled from her suitcase, Blake hung his clothes in the hotel room’s tiny closet.

  All these years he’d never known she had a penchant for sexy lingerie.

  But why would he have known? They didn’t have that type of relationship. Not one where they discussed boxers or briefs, granny whites or spidery webs of black silk. They were business partners—and he’d be a wise man to remember that instead of wondering how that tangled lace would look hugging her bottom.

  The sound of something falling to the bathroom floor was followed by Darby mumbling something he couldn’t make out through the closed door.

  Pausing at the closet, he eyed his suit, hanging side-by-side next to Darby’s brilliant blue dress. He reached out, ran his fingertips over the soft material of her dress.

  Maybe he should pretend to sleep in the chair.

  Pretend because even if the curved wooden chair that was designed more for looks than comfort was the most comfortable chair in the world there was no way he’d rest with Darby sleeping in the same room.

  He hadn’t thought doing this favor would be a big deal, but he’d never spent the weekend in a hotel with a beautiful woman he wasn’t having sex with.

  He sure hadn’t ever slept in a bed with a woman he wasn’t having sex with.

  Especially when he wanted to be having sex with that woman.

  But sex with Darby could never be just sex.

  She was his business partner, his friend, someone he cared about.

  All reasons why sex wasn’t a good idea.

  As much as he wanted to see Darby in those tiny bits of silk, sex between them would ruin everything. Darby didn’t do casual sex, and Blake didn’t do anything but.

  The bathroom door opened. Blake faced the woman he’d just been imagining in her underwear. Again. Trapped steam from her recent shower kissed his skin—or maybe that was sweat from his thoughts of what she had on underneath her clothes. She’d changed into a pair of white shorts that showed off her toned legs and a trendy top that showcased her full breasts and made her waist look tiny. Dampness clung to the hair at the base of her neck. The rest of her blonde hair was clipped by a toothed hairpiece that could double as a torture device.