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A Passionate Proposal
Emilie Rose
After drowning in a slow-burning kiss with Tracy Sullivan at their high school reunion, an enamored Cort Lander realized she'd blossomed from a bookworm into a sultry beauty with a body made for lovin'. His lovin'.Whoa! That wasn't what the doctor ordered. Now that he had a baby boy in tow, the ambitious bachelor had taken a brief leave of absence from his prestigious medical residency to get his life together in his rural Texas hometown. Hiring Tracy as his son's temporary nanny was one thing, but embarking on an explosive no-strings-attached summer fling was quite another.As they burst into flames in the bedroom and bonded as a family on the homefront, would Cort sacrifice his love for a small-town girl to follow his big-city dreams?
Their Ragged Breaths Mingled. “There Could Be More Where That Came From…If You’re Willing.”
Cort’s shoulder muscles tensed beneath her fingers. “Exactly what are you suggesting, Tracy Sullivan?”
She gathered her courage. “I’m not looking for a husband. You’re not looking for a wife. But we’re both adults with—” Heat prickled her skin “—needs. We could um…explore those.”
“Are you propositioning me?”
What if Cort turned her down? How would she face him for the rest of the summer? “I’m suggesting that perhaps we could fulfill those needs for each other.”
He hesitated. “You sure about this? You wouldn’t rather have some guy who could give you the ring, the white picket fence and the whole nine yards?”
“Yes.”
Cort curled his long fingers around hers and lifted her hand to his mouth. His breath and then his lips whispered across her knuckles. “Then we have a deal. You’d better hold on to your shorts, Ms. Sullivan, because it’s going to be a long, hot summer.”
A Passionate Proposal
Emilie Rose
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
EMILIE ROSE
lives in North Carolina with her college-sweetheart husband and four sons. This bestselling author’s love for romance novels developed when she was twelve years old and her mother hid them under sofa cushions each time Emilie entered the room. Emilie grew up riding and showing horses. She’s a devoted baseball mom during the season and can usually be found in the bleachers watching one of her sons play. Her hobbies include quilting, cooking (especially cheesecake) and anything cowboy. Her favorite TV shows include Discovery Channel’s medical programs, ER, CSI and Boston Public. Emilie’s a country music fan because there’s an entire book in nearly every song.
Emilie loves to hear from her readers and can be reached at P.O. Box 20145, Raleigh, NC 27619 or at www.EmilieRose.com.
Pattie, thanks for pitching them over the plate.
Candy, Kim and Sally, you gals make this business more fun than it ought to be.
And to Diane, thanks for the insight into your job.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Prologue
Middle-of-the-night calls never brought good news.
Cort Lander smacked his cheek in an effort to wake himself and grabbed the phone before the second ring. “Hello?”
He squinted at the digital clock. Just because his last seventy-two-hour shift had only ended three hours ago didn’t mean the hospital wouldn’t call him to come back if one of his patients took a bad turn. He preferred it that way.
“Is this Cort Lander—former…companion of Kate Simms?”
A bitter taste filled his mouth. He hadn’t heard from Kate in over a year. Who would be calling here for her? “Yes.”
“I’m Helen McBride from Du Page County Social Services. I’m sorry to have to inform you that Ms. Simms was killed today.”
His heart stuttered. He struggled with the tangled sheets and sat up.
“Kate’s dead?” Bold and aggressive Kate. She’d vowed that nothing would stand in the way of her becoming the best criminal attorney to ever hit Chicago. He hadn’t realized at the time that she’d considered him an obstacle. “How?”
“A client managed to get a gun into the courthouse. When the verdict didn’t go his way, he—but that’s not why I called, Mr. Lander.”
“Doctor,” he corrected automatically.
“I called to ask you to take custody of your son.”
“My what?” Certain his sleep-deprived brain had misunderstood, he shoved a hand through his hair, shook his head to clear it and then turned on the bedside lamp.
“Joshua, your son.”
“Kate and I didn’t have any children.”
“Before she passed away, Ms. Simms told us where to find you and asked us to make sure you came for the boy. You are his only living relative.”
The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He had a son? Impossible, unless Kate had been pregnant when she left Durham to take the job in Chicago. She’d surprised him with a Dear John letter four months later, but she’d never mentioned a pregnancy. Hell, she hadn’t even bothered to mention why she’d dumped him.
“I haven’t seen Kate in—” he mentally counted back “—almost sixteen months. How old is the boy?”
“Nine months. I’m sorry. I know this is quite a shock, but you are named as the father on his birth certificate, and Ms. Simms listed you as Joshua’s guardian in her will. You must come and get him.”
“What’s his blood type?” Blood wasn’t conclusive, but he knew Kate’s was O negative because she’d donated frequently. His was AB positive.
He heard the crackle of shifting papers over the phone line. “Josh’s blood type is AB positive.”
His gut clenched and his heart pounded harder. His palms started to sweat. The phone nearly slipped from his fingers. The calm he prided himself on when dealing with patients in the hospital vanished.
“I’m not taking custody until a DNA test proves he’s my son.”
“I certainly understand how you feel, Dr. Lander, but you are listed as the child’s guardian regardless. You can certainly choose to give him up for adoption, but I’d suggest meeting Joshua first.”
“Tell me where I can find him.” He fumbled for a pen and paper and wrote down the address, and then he hung up the phone and put his head in his hands.
If Kate had had his baby, then why hadn’t she told him? They’d parted on good terms—or so he’d thought until he’d received his walking papers. He’d planned to visit her during the holidays, but then she’d dumped him and refused to return his calls or his e-mails. Why? Had she found somebody new? Or had she finally figured out that a Texas cowboy would never meet her high expectations? She’d wanted blue blood, but he was blue collar.
He stood up and paced his bedroom, thankful that his roommates were all working the night shift, and he didn’t have to explain the bombshell that had just dropped on his life. He wandered from room to room in the tiny two bedroom apartment he shared with three other medical residents.
What in the hell was he going to do with a baby? He couldn’t bring him here.
He’d have to ask to be excused from the residency program early. Thank God summer break was only a few days away.
If the child was his he’d take him home to Crooked Creek. His brothers would know what to do with a baby. He’d call them and tell them… Oh, hell. He scraped a hand over his face.
He’d tell them the Lander curse had struck again.
One
The view from where he stood almost made Cort forget his brother had railroaded him into attending his high school’s ten-year reunion.
A squeal drew his gaze from the rear view of the perfectly shaped female in front of him to the gal springing from her chair at the reception desk. She bounded around the table and hugged him. “Cort Lander. Oh my gosh. We had no idea you were coming. I thought you were in North Carolina.”
The owner of those incredible legs stiffened in her sensible shoes but she didn’t turn or interrupt her conversation with the man he recognized as his old gym teacher.
The squealer pointed to her puckered lips. “I’ll forgive you for not letting me know you were coming if you plant one right here.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the woman with the great tush said as she turned.
Tracy Sullivan. He’d recognize her prim tone anywhere. A grin spread across his face.
Tracy’s tightly twisted red hair had darkened to the color of the cinnamon sugar he sprinkled on his toast, but her serious caramel-colored eyes hadn’t changed one bit. Neither had those lips. Damned if she didn’t have the greatest mouth he’d ever seen, but as she’d been the sister of one of his teammates, that sexy mouth of hers had always been off-limits.
She moved forward. Whoa, where did she get those curves? Hadn’t she been a beanpole in high school? His gaze rolled over hills and valleys he didn’t remember, and his pulse accelerated.
Tracy’s brows lowered in a mock scowl, but she couldn’t completely suppress the smile twitching her lips. “Libby’s married to the football coach, and if she doesn’t stop accosting every man who comes through the door, her husband is going to tackle someone.”
Libby ignored the warning, grabbed his shirt with both hands and yanked him forward. His gaze locked with Tracy’s as Libby smacked her lips against the corner of his mouth. Libby turned him loose, grabbed Tracy’s hand and dragged her forward. “Come on, girl, get yours.”
His heart missed a beat. Normally he wouldn’t let himself be coerced into kissing anyone, but the blush rising from Tracy’s collar and spreading across the creamy skin of her cheeks was an endearing reminder of the freckle-faced girl who’d tutored him through high school English. Without her, he never would have graduated.
And it wasn’t as if this was the first time he’d considered kissing her. He let his gaze drift to her lips, and his mouth dried.
Her blush intensified. “I don’t think—”
He cupped his hand around her nape and smothered her protest with his lips. He meant to pull back after a quick buss, but his lips lingered on the softness of hers, sinking in and savoring. The sensation of coming home washed over him, which made no sense whatsoever since he and Josh had been home for days. Best he could figure it had something to do with her scent. Tracy smelled like home—hers, not his—apple pie and oatmeal cookies.
Her fingers curled into his chest, and her gasp of surprise pulled air from his lungs. His sanity followed right along behind it. Her silky hair brushed his knuckles, and his groin stirred.
A wolf whistle reminded him where he was and who he was with. Tracy. David’s sister.
Down boy.
He released her slowly and struggled to regulate his breathing. His heart pounded in his ears like a jackhammer, and his blood raced through his veins as if pushed by a turbocharged engine. He hadn’t been with a woman since Kate, and it was clear his body was aware of that fact.
That was the only reason kissing Tracy had set him on his ear. Wasn’t it?
Tracy stood rooted to the spot, looking as stunned as she had the day she’d caught him skinny-dipping in Doc Finney’s stretch of the Nueces River, and then she gathered herself and went starchy—the same as she had a decade ago. She might be aiming for cool, but the rapid rise and fall of her breasts beneath her blue dress told another story. “That was unnecessary.”
Unnecessary and probably unwise, but he couldn’t help wanting to kiss her damp lips again. He grinned and shook his head at the absurdity of wanting to kiss his pal, his buddy, his drill sergeant. “Time looks real good on you, Trace.”
Her face took on a tomato hue, and her fingers knotted. “I…you…thank you, Cort.”
They stood there gawking at each other until Libby grabbed each of them by the elbow and steered them toward the darkened corner of the gym reserved for dancing. Cort nodded to old acquaintances as they passed, but Libby’s frog march didn’t allow him time to stop and talk.
“Isn’t Cort just the hunkiest thing, Tracy? Y’all dance and I’ll cut in when my shift at the welcome table is over.” Libby left them.
He faced Tracy and extended his hand. Her gaze bounced off his and returned. After what looked like a bracing breath, she curled her fingers around his palm. A hot flush washed over his body just as it had the first time he’d taken Tracy into his arms. He tried to concentrate on the up-tempo country song, but he hadn’t two-stepped in years. His movements were awkward and the distracting reaction of his body to Tracy’s wasn’t helping his coordination, since the oxygenated blood from his brain pooled about a yard short of his feet.
They’d only taken a dozen steps when Tracy scolded him. “You shouldn’t let Libby’s silly challenges goad you into action. I swear, you’d think people would change in ten years, but—”
“It’s good to see you, too,” he interrupted. Chuckling, he shifted his hand on her waist, searching for a spot where the heat of her skin didn’t penetrate the thin fabric of her dress to singe his palm.
“I didn’t know you were home.” Did he imagine the hitch in her voice?
“I’ve only been here a few days, and I won’t be staying long.” As soon as he figured out how in the hell to put his life back together, he’d return to Durham.
“You’re still in the residency program at Duke?”
“Yes, I…took some time off.” Tracy had always expected the best from him, and for some reason he didn’t want to admit to her that he’d been hit by the Lander curse. He’d screwed up and gotten a woman pregnant the same way his father and one of his brothers had. A medical school graduate ought to know better.
Twenty-one pounds of hindsight had dropped in his lap last week, and he still hadn’t figured out how he was going to handle that much…knowledge and continue his training.
The band switched to a slow ballad, and the lights dimmed. He pulled Tracy closer, but she stiffened and leaned away. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Why not? It’s not like we haven’t danced before. Prom night. Right here in this gym. Remember?”
And just like prom night, he couldn’t control the action going on in his britches. Come on, man, get a grip. This is your pal, Tracy.
Her lush lips flattened. “I remember.”
Whoa. Definite frostbite. Either she’d guessed his struggle or… “Do I have bad breath or something?”
