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Christmas Eve Delivery
Connie Cox
Since returning from the army Dr Jordan Hart has isolated himself on his ranch-based medical practice, preferring to be left alone with his battleground ghosts. Then Nurse Deseré Novak comes to his sleepy Texan town – pregnant and alone – weeks before Christmas.Reluctantly, Jordan discovers she raises all his protective instincts, and suddenly he’s confronted with a different kind of torment – a beautiful brunette with a baby on board!
Praise forConnie Cox:
‘Return of the Rebel Surgeon is an emotionally packed
reunion story … I would definitely recommend
reading [it].’
—Harlequin Junkie on RETURN OF THE REBEL SURGEON
Deseré nodded, acknowledging without replying except in the hope and gratitude her eyes reflected, making him feel like some kind of superhero.
He held the door open for her, giving it a good jerk behind him to make sure it had locked when it closed. She was a couple of paces in front of him, and as Jordan followed Deseré out to his truck he tried to look anywhere but at her sassy bottom.
But he failed.
Don’t think about her. Don’t think about that kiss. Don’t think about wanting to do it again. Don’t think.
Yeah, but not thinking would not be a good thing. That would mean he’d let his body take over, and frankly that would be a mistake.
Because he wanted her. And she wanted him. But there were too many reasons why that would be a bad thing—starting with the fact Deseré worked for him, ending with the fact he was not in the right place in his head for a relationship, and with a multitude of other reasons in between.
Not thinking, he reached for her elbow to help her in. A thrill went through him so strongly it made him shake in his boots.
Dear Reader,
Best wishes for a great Christmas holiday season!
Do you ever wish for your very own cowboy? Nurse Practitioner Deseré Novak left New Orleans for East Texas wishing for a job, not the jingle of spurs. Dr Jordan Hart, in his jeans and boots and hat, could give her both if she was only brave enough to open her healing heart as well as her healing hands.
But she has her hands full, carrying the in vitro child within her to full term and avoiding the man who would take that child from her, without adding the further complication of a strong, silent cowboy into her life. Especially a cowboy who refuses to open up to her about the guilt he has carried for too many years—the guilt that keeps him from living and loving to the fullest.
Jordan wants what is best for his patients. That’s why he hires Deseré Novak—so she can give the people of Piney Woods what he can’t: compassion and care. While he can competently treat their physical illnesses, he avoids the emotional aspect of their cases. How can he help them when he can’t even help himself?
But Dr Jordan Hart can’t avoid the joy Deseré adds into his days, or the dreams she adds to his nights.
And when he starts to care for her, to love her, he can’t avoid wanting to be a better man, a whole and healed man—both for her and for her unborn child.
All the characters in this novel are fictional, and are not reflective of anyone living or dead.
Connie
CONNIE COX has loved Harlequin Mills & Boon
romances since she was a young teen. To be a Harlequin Mills & Boon
author now is a fantasy come to life. By training, Connie is an electrical engineer. Through her first job, working on nuclear scanners and other medical equipment, she had a unique perspective on the medical world. She is fascinated by the inner strength of medical professionals, who must balance emotional compassion with stoic logic, and is honoured to showcase the passion of these dedicated professionals through her own passion of writing. Married to the boy-next-door, Connie is the proud mother of one terrific daughter and son-in-law and one precocious dachshund.
Connie would love to hear from you. Visit her website at www.ConnieCox.com
Christmas Eve Delivery
Connie Cox
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This one’s for you, Deseré Steenberg!
Here’s to strong men and the brave women who love them!
Table of Contents
Cover (#ue3c3314e-6385-51df-866a-1d2512ab1d8f)
Praise (#u86ef1b07-bbf0-5ea8-83ef-08573e5f0668)
Excerpt (#u7fb63f12-42ae-54fb-af56-7c07c8d90667)
About the Author (#u2d5317c3-65c0-599e-befc-408913858f3b)
Title Page (#uf3db6967-23a3-5c4c-8c96-88d183420241)
Dedication (#u4e3b1f83-f198-5583-9213-74dedb79fddc)
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
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ub94b9500-69ef-5b57-a64a-67d8deb39b32)
DESERÉ WEDGED HER car into a parking place between a dual-axel diesel truck and a huge silver horse trailer as red dust swirled around her. East Texas dust.
So different from New Orleans pavement.
She put her hand over her stomach. New town. New life. “Here’s to us, baby James. To our future.” She hefted the bottle of milk she’d purchased at her last gas and restroom stop, toasted her sister’s unborn baby and chugged.
Reinforced by lukewarm milk, she gathered her purse along with her courage and opened the door.
The sultriness of the heavy, humid air hit her hard. One step behind was the scent of pine trees and the odor of horse manure.
The pine trees had towered over her as she’d travelled down the unpaved road leading to the rodeo arena. In the dusk, those tall skinny evergreens appeared imposing, like sentinels warning her that she wasn’t in the big city anymore.
For the baby’s sake, she wouldn’t let this alien landscape intimidate her.
“Everything will be just fine.” She said it out loud to force conviction.
A gaunt, stooped cowboy with a weathered straw hat shadowing his leathered face stopped on the way to his truck.
She knew he drove a truck even though she didn’t know which one. She knew it had to be a truck because she had the only car in the parking lot.
He put two fingers to the brim of his hat and nodded before asking, “You okay, ma’am?”
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
The old man gave her a strong look, half-wary that she might be crazy talking to herself and the other half suspicious of the overdressed stranger in their midst.
She tried to reassure him with the brightest smile she could muster after eight hours of driving with all her worldly goods crammed into her little compact car.
“I’m fine, really.”
He glanced at her stomach as if he knew. How could he? She was only four and a half months and had barely begun to show.
She was being fanciful. A fleeting look of no consequence was all it had been.
Working hard to shrug off her supposition, she blamed it on her sensitivity to the situation. On hormones. On paranoia from lack of sleep.
He couldn’t know her secret.
Because if he did, the man she had driven all these hundreds of miles to find would know, too. And then where would she be?
She couldn’t even think about a near future that bleak.
He had to say yes. There was no other option.
She’d called in the only favor she had and it had been a weak one. A doctor she’d once dated. A relationship that hadn’t worked out. What were the odds of that wildcard making the difference?
The odds were already stacked against her and her chances plummeted if the cowboy she was looking for realized she was pregnant.
In her open-toed sandals, she picked her way across the ruts cut into the dried mud and scarce grass sprigs that made up the entrance in front of the arena. Dusky shadows made the short distance seem treacherous.
Ringed by a tall wooden fence, the arena was hidden from her. Looking up, she could see only the glare of the tall lights and the wash of bodies in the stands. Cowboy hats on everyone’s heads made each person’s features indistinguishable from each other.
How would she ever find him?
With only nineteen dollars and twenty-nine cents in her wallet, she had to find him. She could sleep in her car again, but she needed a few gallons in her gas tank to keep her car rolling and a decent meal to keep the baby healthy.
Her stomach chose that moment to growl. Except for her daily dose of midmorning nausea, her pregnancy kept her continually hungry.
She circled the arena, looking for an opening into this world of rodeo that personified testosterone, muscle and mastery of will.
Carefully, she skirted the hitching posts where horses were tethered with only thin strips of rope or single leather reins. Didn’t these monsters know they could pull away with only a shake of their heads?
How far could they kick? A protective hand over her stomach, she gave them wide berth.
Pulling out her thin wallet, she prepared to pay admission, whatever it cost. She had no other choice.
“Excuse me?” She stopped a young girl in perfect make-up, painted-on jeans, embossed boots, long blonde curls and rhinestones in the band of her white cowgirl hat.
“Yes, ma’am?”
Another “ma’am.” This time it made her feel more old than honored.
Giving the girl the last smile she had in her, Deseré asked, “Where’s the entrance and how much is the entry fee?”
The girl gave a kind, sympathetic glance at her inappropriate tailored slacks, silk blouse and strappy sandals before she waved toward the end of the wooden fence. “All the events are free to watch. Just go right on in. But watch your step, okay?”
Deseré looked down to where the girl pointed. She’d missed a huge pile of horse droppings by scant millimeters.
“Thanks.”
As she minced her way toward the stands, she had to get a bit too close for comfort to the massive horses that were either tied to the backs of the stands or were being ridden in various directions from the barns to the arena.
No one else seemed concerned as the tons of muscle on delicate hoofs pranced by so close.
So this was Friday night in Piney Woods, Texas.
“We’re definitely not in New Orleans anymore,” she whispered to the baby nestled in her womb.
As she approached the full stands, several rows of observers started scooting over, packing themselves in tighter as they made room for her.