Pregnant by the Playboy Surgeon

by Lucy Ryder

  “No, that was Wendy and Theo,” Amy said dryly.

  She grimaced. Oh, right.

  “Dani,” Amy said gently. “When was the last time you actually went on a date date? You know—with a guy you’re attracted to?”

  “I’m not ready to date.”

  Heck, she recalled with an inner wince, just the thought of having coffee and a sandwich with a colleague in a dim bistro had thrown her for a loop. She didn’t want to know how she’d handle a real date.

  Okay, so she did know. She’d panic and run—she winced again—like that geeky fourteen-year-old she’d once been. It was kind of embarrassing that she was still letting hot boys scare her.

  Amy studied Dani with narrowed eyes. “Then maybe you can explain exactly what happened the other night with Dr. Hunky?”

  Her belly clenched and then released but it was an effort to appear casual. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dani said absently, digging in her bag for her sunglasses. “I was expecting Steve Randall and I was...surprised. That’s all.”

  Yeah, right. Shocked was a little closer to the truth.

  “Hmm...” Amy said, with enough skepticism to have Dani, who was now pretending to look for her car keys, look up with a frown.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” she demanded.

  For a couple of seconds Amy looked conflicted, before she sighed. “I wasn’t going to say anything,” she began reluctantly. “But I heard that you and Dr. Hot Stuff were seen outside PICU the other night, looking pretty cozy.”

  Dani felt her jaw drop. “Wha—?” she spluttered, feeling her face heat. “Th—that’s ridiculous. We were discussing Timmy Nolan and...” She spluttered. “I don’t even know him.”

  Amy’s answer was to raise her eyebrows. “Then why are you blushing?”

  “Blu—? Of course I’m not blushing!” she yelped, her blush deepening at the sight of Amy’s arched brows. “I’m annoyed that people haven’t got anything better to do than gossip.”

  Amy snorted. “Annoyed? That a hot, sexy guy had his hands on you and was looking at your mouth?” One eyebrow rose up her forehead. “Yeah, I can totally see how you’d be annoyed.”

  Dani’s eyes widened and the base of her spine tingled. He’d been looking at her mouth?

  At the expression on her face, Amy cracked up. “You should see your face,” she hooted, almost rubbing her hands together with glee. “You so have the hots for the big bad boy of Ortho.”

  With a dirty look, Dani pulled out her keys and stomped across the parking lot toward her car. She wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer because there was no way she had the hots for anyone. Let alone the big bad—She stopped and snorted rudely.

  Who the heck talked like that, anyway?

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DANI PARKED A couple of blocks from the marina so she could hit the supermarket. And, although she’d had every intention of walking right on by, before she knew it she was standing inside her favorite coffee shop, breathing in the heady scent of freshly brewed coffee and thinking she’d gone to heaven.

  Owen Lawrence, the owner, looked up when Dani pressed her nose up against the display case and moaned. “Need a moment there, hon?”

  Dragging her gaze away from the rows of freshly baked temptation, she laughed. “Hi, Owen. And, no—it’s just been a very long night.”

  Jeez, had she just moaned?

  Maybe Amy was right. Maybe she did need to get a life—especially since the closest thing she’d come to sex in years had been that full-body shiver she’d experienced when she’d walked into PICU the other night and seen a certain surgeon standing there, looking like the answer to someone’s hot dream.

  Not hers, of course. But someone’s...

  “Crazy night?”

  She smothered a yawn. “You wouldn’t believe half the stuff we get in the ER on Friday nights.”

  Pretending she wasn’t coveting the decadent pastries, Dani waited in line and casually glanced around at the patrons getting an early start to their weekend. An elderly couple sat nearby, holding hands and smiling, content to be in each other’s company.

  Before she could stop it, her mouth curved in an answering smile and if she felt a little pang, a little pinch right beside her heart. It wasn’t that she was jealous. She was just... Dammit, she wanted that when she was their age too.

  Heck, she wouldn’t mind something like that at her age but she’d tried and it hadn’t worked out. In fact it had left her with far more than a few emotional scars. Scars that ached now, at the sight of a young couple at the next table, laughing and fussing over a cooing baby in a stroller. Hidden physical scars that made having a perfect little family of her own just a pipe dream.

  But that was okay, she told herself, ignoring the impulse to rub the ache where a child of her own would never grow. There were worse things than being unable to conceive. For one: being married to a man who believed he was entitled to jet-set off to exotic locations with models, actresses, friends... In fact any woman—single or married—who wasn’t his wife.

  Richard had been movie-star-handsome, romantic and attentive—right up until they’d married. Almost immediately he’d become demanding and critical of everything she said, the way she behaved and what she wore. Then had come the subtly cruel remarks and finally, after a year, the emotional abuse had turned into towering rages that often erupted into bouts of violence. She’d lived in a constant state of tension and hated to think how easily she’d been cowed.

  Although he’d never actually hit her until that last so-called “business” weekend—the one that had ended not only her nightmare of a marriage but had caused her accident—he’d used his much larger size to intimidate. To literally push her around, grab her with hard, biting hands and knock her into things because he’d said he needed to knock sense into her.

  She shuddered. She wouldn’t ever live like that again. Maybe she was still a work in progress but she was never going to let a man crush her spirit along with her shaky confidence in herself as a woman.

  She was older and wiser now, and she knew better than to be swayed by a pretty face and an expensive smile. Knew better than to think she was equipped to handle Prince Not-So-Charming.

  Or sexy bad boys with hot green eyes that saw way too much.

  Suppressing a shiver, Dani paid for her coffee and splurged on the biggest chocolate cream donut covered with chocolate ganache. Heading for the door, she took a huge bite of the sinful delight even before her foot hit the sidewalk.

  She was so focused on stuffing her face with the melt-in-the-mouth donut and double-shot latte that she wasn’t paying much attention to her surroundings—until two pre-teens on skateboards nearly knocked her off her feet.

  “Watch it, lady!” they warned cheerfully, performing a perfect whatever before zipping off.

  “You watch it,” she yelled to their departing backs, before looking at where her half-eaten breakfast lay partly on the sidewalk and partly down the front of her scrubs. She was now wearing her coffee and a blob of chocolate cream.

  “Dammit. I needed that.”

  With a sigh, she scrubbed at the stain with the paper napkin, mourning the loss of her coffee. Picking up the empty to-go cup and the rest of the donut, she tossed everything in the nearest trash bin and told herself it was just as well because she really didn’t need the extra bazillion calories.

  Muttering to herself, Dani turned to head for the supermarket—and walked into a wall of muscle and bone. The abrupt interruption of her forward momentum drew a startled squeak from her parted lips and she lurched backward, just as large hands closed over her upper arms to keep her from the same fate as her breakfast.

  “Careful,” a deep voice cautioned.

  And when that smooth yet velvet-rough voice—that familiar velvet-rough voice—rumbled near her ear her head came up, the
automatic apology dying in her throat. “Dr. St. J-James, what—what are you doing here?”

  His eyes took a leisurely journey over her face, lingering on her mouth for a long moment before dropping to the coffee and chocolate stain on the front of her scrubs top.

  “Since we keep meeting like this you should probably call me Dylan,” he said, and chuckled, brushing one hand down her arm as he looked past her shoulder to the coffee shop behind her. “Apparently I’m doing the same as you.” He tugged gently at the damp fabric. “Although wearing my coffee wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

  “I wasn’t looking where I was going and some kids—” She saw amusement crinkle the corners of his eyes and abruptly pressed her lips together to stop herself from babbling.

  “Yeah, I saw,” he murmured.

  The brush of his fingers, the closeness of his big hard body, had the breath backing up in her throat. It was a couple of seconds before she realized that her nipples had drawn into tight little buds of enthusiastic greeting.

  His gaze slowly rose up her chest, paused at the frantic pulse hammering against the delicate skin of her throat and then lifted to lock on to her eyes. The amusement had been replaced by a sizzling masculine heat that sent both panic and anticipation rolling across her skin.

  Oh God. Oh God. Oh—

  Realizing she was standing there, gaping at him, she said, “Um...” very intelligently, and then sucked in a steadying breath as she mentally scrambled to rein in her scattered wits. Darn it, what the heck was it about the guy that always caught her on the back foot, banished her IQ and reduced her to a stammering fourteen-year-old?

  Whatever it was, she fumed, it was going to stop. Right now. All she had to do was remind him that she was still on the man wagon and—

  “...breakfast?”

  Dani blinked when she realized that he was talking and she’d totally missed it because she’d been gazing at his strong, tanned throat and wondering what it would feel like to press her lips there.

  “Uh...excuse me?”

  Amusement tugged at his mouth. One minute she was staring into smiling green eyes and the next, she felt her head go light, her knees buckle, just like all those swooning women who—

  And then she was being thrust into a chair and her head shoved between her legs. The spots dancing in front of her eyes gradually faded and she became aware of his large, comforting presence beside her. The warm fingers on the back of her neck that kept her from sliding to the floor.

  “I’ve never actually had someone fall at my feet before,” he said chuckling, sounding just a little bit disgruntled.

  She cracked open an eye to see him crouched beside her.

  He dipped his head to catch her look. “I’m not so sure if it’s a compliment.”

  All she could manage was a strangled laugh as heat and a mouth-watering masculine scent surrounded her, invading her lungs. He was close. Too darn close.

  Her pulse gave an alarmed little blip and she jerked upright—or tried to—but his grip tightened.

  “Take it easy,” he murmured, his long fingers gentling to soothe the back of her head, to massage her neck and the tense spot between her shoulder blades.

  Oh, that felt good.

  “You fainted.”

  Fainted?

  She shook her head in denial and opened her mouth to tell him she hadn’t but a delicious heat had begun to invade her limbs, threatening to melt her bones. It occurred to her that if she didn’t move soon she’d slide right off the chair into a puddle of yearning between his large, scuffed boots.

  Oh, boy. Way to go on not embarrassing yourself.

  She squeezed her eyes closed to dispel the swirling heat taking up residence in her belly, then sucked in a steadying breath before sitting up, stilling when she discovered him less than an inch away.

  He’d recently shaved and the smell of soap and some manly scent—shaving gel...aftershave?—teased her nostrils. The shape of his mouth drew her gaze and she had the wildly inappropriate impulse to lean forward and lick it. The little flutter in her belly had her struggling to pull air into lungs that refused to work—probably because she was inhaling a heady mix of testosterone and male pheromones.

  Long, tanned fingers cupped her jaw, sending a jolt right through her. Her gaze jumped to his as he swept concerned eyes over her face.

  “You have a little more color in your cheeks,” he murmured, his thumb gently rubbing a line of heat across her cheekbone.

  It sent a bunch of conflicting signals to the rest of her body: delicious tingles, nervous jitters and an insidious softening in places that hadn’t softened for a man in nearly three years.

  And if that didn’t freak her out, the way his eyes darkened had her swallowing a panicked gasp and hastily retreating. She started to pull away.

  “Don’t tense up,” he instructed.

  He spoke in a deep, exasperated voice that had Dani opening her mouth to croak, “I’m f-fine,” before wrapping her fingers around his wrist to push him away.

  She couldn’t think when he was touching her.

  He resisted a moment before dropping his hand. He didn’t, however, move back, and her belly gave a decidedly nervous little feminine quiver.

  Oh, boy. Bad time to rediscover her hormones.

  “When last did you eat?”

  She blinked. “What?” She was thinking about sex and he was thinking about...food?

  A bubble of hysterical laugher rose up her throat. It figured, she thought with a snort. Just figured that her body would come out of the deep freeze at the exact moment the man in front of her was focused on food.

  “When last did you eat?”

  She looked down at the coffee stain on the front of her scrubs and tried to think. “I...uh...” Damn, she thought, shoving her hair out of her eyes with shaking fingers. She couldn’t concentrate with him so close. “Last night...yesterday...”

  She shook her head impatiently and tried to stand but he casually shoved her back.

  “I can’t remember exactly. The ER was busy. Dammit—will you move?” she growled, embarrassed by the curious glances they were receiving. “I can’t b-breathe with you so close and...” She lowered her voice. “People are staring.”

  “Let them stare,” he said impatiently, rising smoothly to his feet. “Stay there while I get you something.”

  She made a sound deep in her throat—kind of an annoyed growl and distressed squeak—and tried to stand again but his hand dropped to her shoulder to keep her seated. She jerked her head up and opened her mouth to snap at him but he swiped a casual thumb across her bottom lip. The move surprised her—okay, shocked the hell out of her—rendering her mute as well as brainless.

  “Stay there,” he murmured. “Please.”

  It seemed she wasn’t as immune as she’d thought—or wanted to be. Not if she was unable to ignore a man who looked at her with amused exasperation and banked heat. “Okay...”

  His eyes took on a challenging gleam as he tugged gently on an errant curl that had escaped her topknot. When his fingers slid away they brushed her neck, sending a host of sensations scattering throughout her body. Her nerves jittered, causing something deep in her belly to pull taut. It was probably a good thing she was sitting down because her knees wobbled alarmingly.

  She pressed a shaky hand to her hollow belly and groaned. Oh God, maybe she was hungry. Maybe she just needed food.

  Yeah, you’re hungry, all right, said the voice in her head, snickering rudely. Hungry for sinful se—

  Nope, she was still quite comfortable on the wagon, thank you very much. She had no intention—none whatsoever, she assured herself—of falling off for anyone.

  Especially not a guy who wore his general hotness like a familiar well-loved T-shirt—one that stretched across his big shoulders, pulled taut over a wide muscular chest and fel
l loose around his abs and narrow waist before being tucked into low-slung jeans that were faded in strategic places and cupped some pretty cuppable places.

  Her breath hitched and an unfamiliar burn took up residence in a place that had been empty for far too long. She shifted restlessly, because it made her uncomfortable and twitchy. And since being twitchy always made her irritable she decided it was probably way past time to hit the road.

  Before the wagon rumbled on down the street without her.

  Muttering to herself about the dangers of getting sucked into an Alpha man’s orbit, she shoved back her chair—because the last thing she needed was nuclear blasts of testosterone and pheromones clouding her judgment and adding to her problems.

  But before she could stand she caught a whiff of the sticky sweet scent of fresh donuts along with the aroma of hot vanilla bean latte and nearly moaned.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Looking up as Dr. St. James—Dylan—slid into the opposite chair, Dani’s stomach lurched and rumbled simultaneously. She wasn’t entirely certain if it was the sight of all that yumminess or the smell of coffee and donuts that had her subsiding back into the chair.

  An eyebrow rose up his forehead as he slid a large to-go mug across the table. “Drink,” he ordered. “And tell me why you were getting ready to ditch me again. You’re starting to give me a complex.”

  Dani cursed her fair complexion that had heated guiltily at the mild censure in his voice. He sounded as though her reluctance had baffled or maybe hurt him. But, considering that he had dozens of women vying for his attention, the idea that she could hurt his feelings was laughable.

  “No, I wasn’t,” she lied. “I was... I was about to come and help you,” she finished lamely. “And the only ‘complex’ thing about a man is his DNA. And even that’s been decoded.”

  He laughed. “Uh-huh?”

  Rolling her eyes, she spied the box he’d opened and was nudging across the table as though it contained a bomb.

  A box of donuts? Jeez. That was about a gazillion calories right there.

  Her eyes narrowed accusingly because of course he didn’t need to worry about whether his butt looked good in jeans. But, then again, he was the kind of man who’d look good in anything...and in nothing at all.