Six Sexy Doctors Part 1 (Mills & Boon e-Book Collections): A Doctor, A Nurse: A Little Miracle / The Children's Doctor and the Single Mum / A Wife for ... / The Playboy Doctor's Surprise Proposal

by Carol Marinelli

  “Hi, there. Como esta usted?” she asked him.

  He spoke quickly to her and gestured to his face, which was still swollen in areas and colored purple and green but had improved dramatically. She laughed at his antics, not understanding anything he said. Jeannine asked for some interpretation from one of the nurses who spoke fluent Spanish.

  “He’s just excited and wanted to thank you for helping Dr. Miklo fix his face. He remembers you and how you helped him.” Roberto stood on his bed and reached for Jeannine. He hugged her tightly and said, “Gracias. Papa say thanks to you.”

  “You are very welcome, Roberto.” Tears pricked Jeannine’s eyes at his heartfelt gesture, and she hugged his small body to her, wishing that some day she could have a child of her own but knowing it was probably impossible. She would have to content herself with taking care of other people’s children in the hospital.

  Roberto released Jeannine with a squeal and began talking excitedly in Spanish again. Jeannine turned and her heart gave a flip as Miklo walked into the room. Roberto talked to him, and Miklo nodded, then brought a small car from his labcoat pocket. Jeannine grinned. Without having understood the conversation, she got the idea from the eagerness on Roberto’s face.

  “He asked if I brought another car so that we could race,” Miklo said.

  The look in his eyes took away her ability to give a sensible response. The spark of interest grew as his gaze lingered on her mouth, and she resisted the urge to lick her lips. “I see you came prepared. Who do you think is going to win?”

  “He will. Hands down. I’m a bad driver.” He examined Roberto as they played with the cars.

  Jeannine knew he assessed the boy as they played, and it seemed more like fun than a doctor’s exam. She gave Miklo full credit for keeping the boy as comfortable as possible while gathering the information he needed.

  “I’d better get back to the ICU. Things were slow for a while, but I don’t want to be gone too long.”

  “I’ll walk down with you,” Miklo said. “I’m about to head out, anyway.”

  They walked in silence to the stairwell, and Miklo opened the door. Anticipation hummed through her. Lord, she wanted Miklo to touch her again, but she didn’t think it wise. For either of them.

  The door slammed closed, and he spun her around. She reached out for him with a glad cry. The second his lips met hers, she knew she was heading down the path of heartache, but she was powerless to run the other way.

  When he lifted his head, he stepped back from her. “I told myself when I saw you again that I wasn’t going to feel anything special, I wasn’t going to want to touch you again, but…Jeannine, I do.” He stroked a hand over her cheek. “I enjoyed our weekend.”

  “So did I.” More than he could know. She’d relived every moment in her mind over the last few hours.

  Miklo took her hand and headed down the stairs. “We’d better get out of here before I’m accused of accosting a co-worker in the stairwell,” he said.

  Jeannine’s laughter echoed off the walls. “I don’t think that will be an issue. I might just as well be accused of the same thing.”

  He opened the door to the PICU and dropped her hand. They returned to being just coworkers, and Jeannine was a little disappointed, though she knew it was for the best. Instead of leaving, he pulled her aside as a patient was wheeled by on a gurney. “Incidentally, I did check with Risk Management about us accepting the tickets for the ball, and they said it was just fine.” He nodded. “I mentioned the part about publicity, and they thought that we could use some good publicity, as well as the museum.”

  “Oh, good,” she said, and touched her hand to her chest. “I didn’t want us to get into trouble over it.”

  “If it had been an issue, I would have just paid for the tickets,” he said. “No problem.”

  Jeannine stared at him. “You really would have?”

  “Absolutely. Taking you to the Chocolate Fantasy Ball would be worth more than what the tickets cost. I’ll see you on Saturday. Pick you up at six?”

  Jeannine nodded, unable to speak as she stared at him.

  “Will you wear the dress we got in Mexico?”

  “Oh, no. It’s too revealing.” The thought of being so exposed in a large crowd made her tremble. Revealing herself to Miklo was one thing, but to a room of strangers was quite another. “You really shouldn’t have bought it.”

  “So wear something over it, a shawl or something.” His eyes turned hungry. “I’d like to see you in it.”

  “Miklo…” she whispered, uncertainty crawling through her.

  “You’ve stretched your boundaries a lot recently. What’s one more?”

  “I’ll think about it.” It was the best she could offer right now.

  “Okay. See you Saturday night.”

  “Okay.” She watched him go and wondered at the heaviness of her heart. Should she really go through with it?

  “Jeannine!” Trish squealed, and motioned her into the staffroom.

  Jeannine jumped, then ran inside. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  Trish glared at Jeannine and crossed her arms. “That’s what I want to know. What was all that with Dr. Hottie? See you Saturday night? Spill it!”

  Despite a great desire not to, Jeannine flushed. “I’m not sure what you—”

  “Oh, don’t give me that,” Trish interrupted, and hopped onto the table. “You have a date with the sexiest doctor in the entire hospital, don’t you?”

  “It’s…it’s…not really a date,” she said in a rush. “It’s more of a…public relations obligation.” That sounded good, didn’t it?

  “I knew it!” Trish jumped down, took Jeannine by the arm and dragged her to the table. “Now I want all the gory details. Every single one of them.”

  Jeannine hesitated. “I worked with him on a complicated trauma last week, and we’ve been…together a few times since then.”

  Trish’s eyes widened, and she gasped. “You mean, as in together…together? In the buff, in a bed together? Oh, my God!”

  “No, no, no!” Jeannine denied, and felt her flush burn her skin. “But we did actually sleep…in the same bed…together…when we were in Las Cruces. Saturday night.”

  “Cruces?” Trish narrowed her eyes. “I think you’d better start at the beginning. You’re leaving way too many details out.”

  Jeannine told her story, but kept Miklo’s past out of it. It wasn’t her secret to share. In a way, the telling of her story was a relief, unloading all of the emotions swirling around in her. Trish sat back in her chair. “Wow. You’ve been through so much, and it still might not be over. There’s a chance you may not conceive, isn’t there?” Trish asked, and sat forward, taking Jeannine’s hands in hers.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking, agreeing to this. But with the Chocolate Fantasy Ball coming up on Saturday night, I don’t know what I’m going to do.” Unexpected tears filled Jeannine’s eyes. “He’s going to think I’m hideous. Knowing something and seeing it in front of your face are two entirely different things.”

  Trish hugged Jeannine. “No, he won’t. He bought you that dress and wants to see you in it, right?”

  Jeannine gave a watery nod. “It fits me perfectly, except that it reveals everything I want to hide.” She wiped away the tears she swore she’d never shed again. She’d stopped feeling sorry for herself a long time ago, but right now the pain of losing a baby and the uncertainty of a future one flooded over her. “I must be hormonal if I’m this weepy.”

  Trish brightened and gripped Jeannine’s hand. “Hey! That’s a good sign, then. If you think your hormonal, then you must ovulate right? That means you might be able to bear children after all.” She looked at Jeannine. “I mean, that is, if you want them.”

  Jeannine thought a moment. Did she really want children of her own? “I haven’t dared to think about it. I just don’t know.”

  “So, what if you could have children with Dr. Hottie?”

  “
Trish! You are shameless,” Jeannine cried, but then laughed and the tension in her evaporated. Trish had become a good friend. “I don’t know that Dr. Hottie would even want to have a serious relationship with me, let alone have children with me.” She smacked her friend playfully on the arm. “Let me just get through the ball without embarrassing myself.”

  “Okay, okay, if you insist.” Trish stood and looked at the clock. “We’d better get back to work. If you want, I’ll help you do your hair and make-up on Saturday night. I’m off, and it’s not like I have a date or anything.”

  “Oh, would you really? I’d be so grateful.” Jeannine grasped Trish’s arm.

  “I’ll be there at four o’clock.”

  “He’s not coming until six.”

  “Trust me,” Trish said, and patted Jeannine on the shoulder. “We’re going to need every second for primping and girl time. In the meantime, you need a pair of dancing shoes and a bottle of champagne, Cinderella. You’re going to need ’em both.”

  Jeannine nodded, thinking that they were going to need more than two hours to get her ready for the ball.

  Jeannine was ready with fifteen minutes to spare. She stared at herself in the mirror. “I look like an idiot.”

  “You do not! Stop maligning my artistic handiwork. I’ll be offended,” Trish said, and circled Jeannine, adjusting a curl, the hem of her dress in the back, and then nodding her approval. “I don’t know what this dress is made from, but it’s lovely. Feels like silk.”

  “I was stupid to agree to this, good publicity or not,” Jeannine said, her insides trembling. “I’ll call him and cancel.”

  Trish moved in front of her and blocked the path to the phone. Placing her hands on her friend’s face, she looked into Jeannine’s eyes. “You deserve to be happy. One bad relationship doesn’t mean you have to give up on ever having one.” Trish lightly patted Jeannine’s face. “Enjoy yourself and have a dance with Dr. Hottie for me.”

  Jeannine laughed. “You can’t be serious for one minute, can you?”

  “Sorry. Not in my job description,” Trish said, and gathered her things. “I’d better get out of here before he gets here. Men aren’t supposed to know about all the work that goes into such a masterpiece.”

  “Trish, thanks. I couldn’t have faced tonight without you.” She hugged her friend.

  “You’re gorgeous! Call me tomorrow and let me know how things went, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  As Trish escaped out the back door, Miklo rang the front doorbell.

  Oh, God. Jeannine felt like a panicked rabbit facing a deadly predator. With no other choice, she opened the door.

  And almost fainted.

  Oh, God. Miklo, in black tie attire, was enough to make her light-headed.

  “Hi, there,” he said, and smiled. He looked her up and down and whistled. “You look exquisite, Jeannine.”

  Oh, God! She was just going to turn into a puddle in the middle of the floor. The sound of his voice sent shivers over every inch of her skin, and she pulled the velveteen shawl closer. “Thank you. It’s the dress. It would make anyone look good.”

  “Hardly,” he scoffed, and held out his hand to her.

  Tentatively, she reached out to him, knowing that if she took that step, there would be no turning back tonight. She stood on a threshold of decision in three-inch strappy sandals and a slinky black dress.

  One step forward, and she closed the gap between them. “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?” He tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow.

  “For showing me a great time tonight.”

  “Better than the plane ride?”

  She laughed. “Seriously, already better than the plane ride.”

  “You are seriously welcome. Let’s go. I’m ready for my Chocolate Fantasy.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  DINNER was an absolute marvel. Multi-tiered fountains of thick, luxurious chocolate rested on tables filled with brightly colored fruits, pertly arranged crackers, and a bounty of vegetables. The fragrance of chocolate permeated the air as soon as they stepped into the ballroom, and Jeannine felt as if she had entered the inner sanctum of some secret chocolate-worshiping society.

  “I didn’t know so many dishes could be made using chocolate,” Jeannine said as they moved along the buffet line catered by top chefs from the finest restaurants in New Mexico.

  “I’m just glad there’s no chocolate in the salad,” Miklo said as he filled his plate.

  Jeannine decided to try the chicken in chocolate sauce.

  “There is chili powder and many unusual spices in it, so it’s a very unique combination,” the server said with a smile. “And you must try the chocolate mole for dessert.”

  “I will, thank you.” Jeannine was glad the server offered some explanation of the food.

  They found their assigned seats at a table with two other couples. “We’ve been here every year for the last ten years,” a woman named Alessandra said. “It’s always such an interesting combination of people.”

  They chatted with the other couples until the speaker at the front diverted their attention.

  Jeannine kept the shawl tied around her shoulders and her arms tucked beneath it whenever possible. Her confidence about her scars didn’t extend very far yet, and, rather than have the inquiring looks of strangers ruin her night, she kept the shawl close.

  “And now I want to thank two very important people, very, very good friends of the museum.” The manager who had given them the tickets stood at the front of the room.

  Jeannine and Miklo faced the front as the speaker drew the attention of the entire room. As Miklo’s hand drifted over her shoulder, a tremor ran through her. It was nothing she could explain, but she didn’t want it to go away. This night was something she would savor the rest of her life.

  “Not long ago there was a medical emergency in the museum. Fortunately for all, present were Dr. Miklo Kyriakides and his nurse, Jeannine Carlyle. With their immediate intervention, they saved the life of one of our long-time members, Mr. Carl Chase.”

  Applause rang through the banquet room as everyone looked around.

  “Please won’t you stand so these nice folks can see who you are?” the manager asked, and held a hand out toward their table.

  “Miklo, what do we do?” she whispered. Having so much attention on her wasn’t something she had anticipated and she tried to swallow past the lump in her throat.

  He stood and pulled out her chair for her. “We accept graciously.” He raised a hand and acknowledged the attention of the crowd. As everyone continued to applaud, Jeannine blushed deeply, but raised a hand, too.

  “The unselfish acts you performed that day saved the life of not only one person. On a personal level you have shown me that there are still good people in the world, people who will still make sacrifices in order to help others. So from everyone at the museum, the family of Mr. Chase, and myself, thank you.” He bowed to them and the crowd rose.

  The orchestra waiting on the stage behind him struck up their first number.

  With Miklo standing beside her, having the focus on them wasn’t so bad. Some of her discomfort eased and the fluttering of her heart slowed to a more normal pace. Jeannine smiled and waved. The shawl slipped from her shoulders to puddle at her feet. Several people nearby paused and stared wide-eyed at her arms and her neck, at the scars revealed by the dress.

  Jeannine froze. A sick feeling of dread turned the chocolate sauce in her stomach to mud. Miklo bent over, retrieved her shawl and deliberately placed it over the back of her chair with a meaningful glance at the others. “This will only get in the way. May I have this dance?” he asked, and without waiting for an answer took her hand, brought it to his mouth and kissed it.

  Still uncomfortable with the revealing dress, she nodded and allowed Miklo to lead her to the dance floor. As she moved into his arms, the fears, the anxiety, the shame of her scars and imperfections melted away like the chocolate in
the fountains. She was imperfect, she knew, but so was everyone else. Now, even in the midst of the crowd around them, there seemed to be only the two of them, with Miklo’s touch warm and comforting on the bared skin at her waist.

  Each circle of the dance floor brought Miklo closer to Jeannine. Something was happening to him tonight. Something he hadn’t expected. But after taking her to Las Cruces, running across the border for the day, and now, holding her in his arms again, Miklo’s heart beat in his chest in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.

  Miklo, at last, felt like a man again.

  Dancing had never been like this for Jeannine. Whatever the dance, Miklo knew it and guided her around the dance floor like he’d been born to it. This was what Cinderella must have felt like at the ball, so happy, so carefree, dreading the stroke of midnight when the fantasy would all end. Each moment, each breath, each beat of her heart led her closer to the trap of falling for Miklo, but she just couldn’t stop herself from walking into it.

  After the first set of dancing ended, Miklo led her to the refreshment table, and she drank water to quench her thirst. Watching Miklo drink a glass of water, too, she knew her thirst for him would never end. Every time she was near him, it only became stronger, and she was sure she would find herself addicted to him, without having her need for him fulfilled.

  “So, how about it? Enjoying yourself?” he asked, and stroked a hand across her cheek.

  Eyes downcast, she couldn’t believe he had touched her like that in such a public place in front of so many important people. As if he had actually meant it.

  “Miklo, I’m having such a good time,” she said, and raised her gaze to his.

  “But?”

  “Oh, here they are,” a male voice said, interrupting their conversation. “Dr. Kyriakides? Miss Carlyle?”

  They turned together to face a man in a wheelchair.

  “Mr. Chase?” Miklo asked, and held out his hand. “You look much better than the last time I saw you.”