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Her Maverick M.d.
Teresa Southwick
I’m sure you’ve heard there is a new doctor in town. Sexy Jon Clifton looks more cowboy than pediatrician, he’s good with kids and dogs, and what we all want to know is: Why is this man still single?Though there are plenty of ladies in Rust Creek Falls who would like to change the confirmed bachelor’s status, Dawn Laramie alone seems to be immune to his charms. The dedicated nurse works side-by-side with Dr. Jon day after day, intent on keeping things professional…and distant. Meanwhile, we here at the Gazette can practically hear the tension thrumming between these two. Our diagnosis? A classic case of lovesickness with an age-old cure! But will the doctor's proposal heal Dawn's wounded heart?
On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, the reality of sharing a bed with Jon was a fifteen.
It pushed twenty when she felt the mattress dip from his weight. And the masculine scent of his skin drifted to her, firing up her hormones even more.
“Good night.”
“‘Night.” His voice was ragged, rough.
Dawn couldn’t speak for him, but she was as tense as a bowstring and ready to snap. “Jon, I—”
He threw back the covers. “This isn’t going to work.”
She rolled over to face him. “What’s wrong?”
“I want you.” There was no mistaking the need in his voice this time. It was honest and raw. “I can’t help it. I can’t make it stop. If I touch you—” He swore under his breath. “I’m going in the other room.”
This time he didn’t say anything about sleeping. And there was no mistaking the way her heart soared in response to his declaration. He wanted her.
Before he could get out of bed she moved closer and reached for him. It was automatic, instinctive. Her hand touched his arm, the warm skin. And this time she said the word. “Stay.”
* * *
Montana Mavericks: The Baby Bonanza Meet Rust Creek Falls’ newest bundles of joy!
TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.
Her Maverick M.D.
Teresa Southwick
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To editor Susan Litman, who guides us through this Montana Mavericks maze with a combination of grace and humor.
It’s always a pleasure working with you.
Contents
Cover (#uc7268705-10a4-510e-88b8-53fa480d7fd6)
Introduction (#ud5c2fc9d-6c12-57c6-9a0f-f9a7c99a01c2)
Title Page (#u7ad25695-d5f5-54e6-8ee5-b1615aa9b17c)
About the Author (#uefa0583d-5e89-5e44-a70e-320b067eb49d)
Dedication (#u232e4729-6028-56e2-8312-17499a74b0d7)
Chapter One (#uad7d9b64-0cac-520c-b5e4-8cbd43ecc0fb)
Chapter Two (#u8bc44bb0-730d-51a1-b2c0-1ba279a34b22)
Chapter Three (#u39485be8-88d7-5cf9-9be1-19e576e74e89)
Chapter Four (#ubfde8b1f-5c12-57d4-a46c-8ef44030c9ca)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ulink_dcf8becc-49d0-5f07-b712-9c471680b537)
Dr. Jonathan Clifton had never understood what it meant to be stopped dead in your tracks. That changed when he walked into the Rust Creek Falls Medical Clinic and saw the woman behind the reception desk. She stopped him cold—or maybe hot—with long blond hair falling past her shoulders and bluebonnet-colored eyes that could tempt a man to kiss her. Or bring him to his knees. Since he had no intention of letting that happen to him again it was strictly an observation about the very pretty receptionist he would be working with.
Moving to the open window separating her from the crowded waiting room, Jon patiently waited for her to hang up the phone. That was when he noticed her blue scrubs decorated with cartoon animals. The stethoscope draped around her neck was a clue that she probably wasn’t the receptionist. But she sounded a little frazzled, possibly fatigued and even prettier up close than she’d appeared from across the room.
When she hung up the phone, he smiled at her. “Hi. Is it always this busy in here?”
“Pretty much. But today is more crazy than usual.”
Say something brilliant, he told himself. And funny. “It’s still summer. Not even flu season yet.”
“Tell me about it,” she agreed. “Things should get really interesting in a couple months.”
“Flu shots would help. Might want to think about having a flu shot fair. Kind of like a health fair but with the focus on prevention.” When she smiled at him he nearly broke his promise to not let a woman bring him to his knees. “Just a thought.”
“It’s a good one. There are few things Rust Creek Falls likes more than a reason for a community get-together.”
“Folks here do like a gathering.”
“So you know our little slice of Montana paradise,” she said.
“Yeah.”
The woman tilted her head, studying him. “Have we met? You look familiar.”
“I’ve been here before. My brother lives just outside of town.”
“Ah, a visitor. And you’re here to see the doctor. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Have you signed in?”
He looked at the lined sheet attached to a clipboard. Each line was a sticky strip. When patients arrived, they signed in then the name was removed for privacy purposes. “I’m not a patient.”
“Oh?” Her expression turned appraising and a little wary. “Are you selling something?”
He was trying to sell himself—his personality, at least—because he would be working with this woman. But he’d always been more interested in doctoring than witty repartee.
And Jon could feel it coming on. The persona his brothers referenced when they’d nicknamed him Professor. The one where he turned a little formal, a little stiff and standoffish. Too analytical. But trying not to be left him a lot tongue-tied. “I’m here— The kids—”
“So you have an appointment for your child?” She glanced past him, looking for one.
“No.” That sounded abrupt. He smiled. “I don’t have kids. That I know of.”
She looked a little surprised at the lame remark. “You’re a visitor and may not know this, but thanks to Homer Gilmore’s wedding moonshine prank more than one man became a father this year without knowing. It’s not something to be cavalier about.”
“That was a bad joke,” he acknowledged.
“No problem.” Her tension eased. “Guess we’re still a little sensitive about the incident.”
“I understand. In fact my brother was a victim of the punch. He’d just closed escrow on his ranch—”
“So, you’re a cowboy.” She looked interested.
At least he thought so and really hated to tell her the truth. “I’m not a cowboy.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “The snap-front shirt and worn jeans threw me off. Sorry.”
“No problem.”
She glanced over her shoulder and smiled apologetically. “I really have to get back to work.”
And Jon wanted just a little bit longer with her. So he started talking. “A lot of people dress like this who don’t herd cows on a ranch. In fact, you’re wearing scrubs, but I didn’t jump to the conclusion that you’re a doctor. But I feel pretty confident that you’re not the receptionist.”
“Really?” The corners of her mouth curved up. “What makes you so sure?”
“You have a stethoscope around your neck. Someone who answers the phone wouldn’t need one handy.” He smiled and leaned his forearms on the wall separating them. “And this is just the process of elimination, but my next guess would be that you’re a nurse. If I’m right, it’s a waste of your education, training and experience to have you answering phones.”
“We have a receptionist. Brandy. Somewhere.” She glanced around the front office area looking a little irritated with the missing receptionist. “But since she’s not here at the moment, my job description has spontaneously been expanded to include security checkpoint because I have to ask. Since you’re not a patient, or accompanying someone who is, do you have business here?”
“Technically the clinic is my business.” Good God, he sounded like a pompous idiot. This was not the first time he’d met and talked to a pretty girl, so what was his problem? Plastering a smile on his face, he held out his hand. “I’m Jon Clifton, MD. That is—Dr. Jonathan Clifton. I met with Emmet DePaulo about joining the staff here at the clinic—”
“The new doctor.” Suddenly her tone completely lacked warmth, as if he’d revealed his alter ego was Jack the Ripper.
“Pediatrician, technically.”
“Emmet told us the new doctor would be here in a couple of days. Wow, and I just jumped to the conclusion that you were a cowboy.” As comprehension slid into her eyes her cheeks turned pink.
The color in her face made her even prettier, if possible. “You should do that more often.”
“What? Humiliate myself?”
“No. Of course not. It’s just that blushing looks good on you.”
The brief bit of vulnerability in her expression disappeared and her blue eyes darkened with what appeared to be suspicion. “Really?”
Uh-oh. Apparently he’d stepped in it there. Note to self: they’d just met. She didn’t know his sense of humor yet. There was no way to accelerate the process of learning it. Only putting in one day after another, working together in the trenches during traumas and emergencies could do that. But maybe a little information about himself could speed things up.
“I actually live in Thunder Canyon. I’ve been working at the resort there with Dr. Marshall Cates. They added a pediatric specialist to the staff because a lot of families vacation there.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. And when the word spread that Rust Creek Falls could use my specialty I decided to lend a hand. I signed a contract for a year.”
“Ah.”
Hmm. One syllable, technically not even a word. It was a signal but he wasn’t certain whether or not the meaning was an invitation for him to continue with information. As a physician he’d been trained that the more facts you obtained in order to make a diagnosis, the better.
“It’s possible you know my brother. Will Clifton. Like I said, he owns a ranch and I’m staying in his guesthouse—well, it used to be the foreman’s house but... Anyway, I was at the wedding last summer when he accidentally married Jordyn Leigh.”
Her full lips pulled tight for a moment. “You say that as if it wasn’t really an accident on her part.”
“Don’t get me wrong. I understand that alcohol lowers one’s inhibitions. But it seems unlikely that punch—even a spiked one—can make someone do anything they don’t really want to.” Some part of his brain registered that based on the way her eyes were practically shooting fire he should stop talking, but the words continued to come out of his mouth. “There were a lot of babies conceived, which means there was quite a bit of ill-advised behavior. Should people have known better?” He shrugged at the question.
“Have you ever heard the saying ‘Never judge anyone unless you’ve walked a mile in their shoes’?” she asked sweetly.
“Are you suggesting that I should try the punch?”
“If the shoe fits...” She stared at him. “And for the record, spiked punch means something was added without the knowledge of those drinking it.”
“True, but—”
“Sometimes things are more complicated than they appear.”
