by Tina Beckett
Losing a baby tore them apart...
Can having another reunite them?
Losing their daughter left doctors Tucker and Kady heartbroken and when he couldn’t face trying for another child, it left their marriage in pieces. When they meet again at a medical event, their memories are reawakened—along with their scorching chemistry! But Kady still longs for a baby, and Tucker must finally face his fears if he’s to find happiness with her again...
“You used to talk to Grace before she was born, remember?”
Tucker leaned back in his chair. “I do.”
“Do you talk to your patients while you operate?”
Kady could very easily imagine him doing that, telling them to hang in there, that he was going to try to fix whatever was wrong with their tiny bodies.
He paused for several long seconds. “Yes. I talk to them.”
Before she realized what was happening, he’d wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her onto his lap. Then his mouth was on hers. And her world exploded. He hadn’t wanted to touch her in a very long time, so to have him kissing her as if he couldn’t get enough was heady. And terrifying.
Right now, she didn’t care about patient charts or medical conferences or anything else.
A kaleidoscope of memories sent her reeling back through time, bits and pieces of the torn fabric of their old life sliding together to form something old but something totally different than what had been before.
His lips turned hard and demanding in an instant, his tongue delving deep into her mouth as if he hadn’t tasted her a thousand times over during their years together.
It was all new—all old.
Dear Reader,
Those of us who have children worry about them as they grow up. I know I have. My kids and I have joked over the years about some of the crummy physical or personality quirks that they inherited from either me or their father. But we can only laugh about them because they’re minor issues.
What if I had unknowingly passed something on to them that was much worse, though? Something devastating. This is where the idea for Tucker and Kady’s story came from. They faced a set of terrible circumstances that no couple should ever have to face, and the resulting strain on their marriage became too much.
When they meet again, unexpectedly, at a medical conference, they have to sort through a whole lot of unresolved emotions, not least of which is the explosive attraction they’ve always had for each other.
Thank you for joining Tucker and Kady as they diagnose what went wrong between them and try to heal and find closure. Maybe they’ll even discover a little something extra along the way. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I loved writing it. This couple made me smile...and they made me cry. Enjoy!
Love,
Tina Beckett
THE DOCTORS’ BABY MIRACLE
Tina Beckett
Books by Tina Beckett
Harlequin Medical Romance
Hot Brazilian Docs!
To Play with Fire
The Dangers of Dating Dr. Carvalho
The Doctor’s Forbidden Temptation
From Passion to Pregnancy
Hot Latin Docs
Rafael’s One Night Bombshell
Christmas Miracles in Maternity
The Nurse’s Christmas Gift
The Hollywood Hills Clinic
Winning Back His Doctor Bride
Her Playboy’s Secret
Hot Doc from Her Past
Playboy Doc’s Mistletoe Kiss
A Daddy for Her Daughter
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To my kids. You make me laugh and support me no matter what. I love you!
Praise for Tina Beckett
“This is a truly passionate and moving story that brings two beautiful people together...Ms. Beckett has brought out the love and emotion that will surely have you smiling and sighing...”
—Goodreads on Rafael’s One Night Bombshell
Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM RESISTING HER COMMANDER HERO BY LUCY RYDER
PROLOGUE
Two years ago
TUCKER STEVENSON WALKED out of the clinic a new man.
Only he didn’t feel new. He felt old and cynical and very, very tired. But at least he’d severed himself from his past, in more ways than one. What was that old Grimm’s fairy tale he’d read as a child? Seven at One Blow? Well, he hadn’t struck down seven, but two was enough: a vasectomy and a divorce. It did seem kind of ironic that his test for “swimmers” should be scheduled for the very same day his divorce became final.
He’d never in his worst nightmares suspected he and Kady would end this way. Theirs had been the stuff dreams were made of. Or so he’d thought. Yet here he was, making sure what had happened to them would never happen again.
He glanced back at the clinic before pulling his sunglasses off his head and dropping them onto his nose, dimming the view around him as he made his way to the subway station.
It was done. There was no going back.
His doctor, while arguing against the procedure, saying Tucker was too young to make that kind of decision, had finally acquiesced and given him the old snip-snip eight weeks ago. He would not make another woman pregnant, or cause her to go through the horrors and heartache he and Kady had lived through. She’d tried to talk him out of it, saying they were through if he went through with it. But it hadn’t changed his mind.
It hadn’t changed hers either. Four years of marriage gone, in the blink of an eye.
He bumped shoulders with someone with a muttered apology as he stepped into the crowded station. On his way back to the hospital, a twelve-hour shift stared him in the face. But at least work kept him from thinking. And the change in venue from Atlanta to New York had meant a fresh start, even if it hadn’t dulled the heartache of the past. Bracing his feet apart and wrapping his fingers around the grab bar over his head, he closed his eyes and let the steady whooshing of the metro keep the painful memories at bay.
If only they’d known when they’d met, things might have been different.
No, they wouldn’t. Because while the pregnancy—a year into their relationship—had come as a shock, the tearful yearning in Kady’s eyes as she’d shown him the pregnancy test had won Tucker over. She’d desperately wanted that child. Had wanted him to be happy about it. And in the end he had been. A hurried elopement and whirlwind honeymoon had been just like the rest of their relationship, full of explosive passion that left him breathless. It had been that way the moment they’d laid eyes on each other. The rest was history.
“No regrets,” she’d said, lifting her glass of sparkling cider and clinking it against his with a laugh. And when Grace had been born... Magic. Pure magic. The perfect world they’d created had seemed complete. Their love unbreakable.
And yet look at them now.
He opened his eyes and hardened his heart. This sol
ved nothing and only put him in a bad place. His patients needed him. And he needed them.
So that’s what he would focus on, and leave all the other stuff behind.
At least until he hit his bed tonight and fell into an exhausted sleep.
The subway lurched to a stop, the doors peeled apart, and Tucker joined the throng of people vying for the exit. Seconds later he was headed up the escalator where a shaft of sunlight beckoned, promising a brighter day.
And, with a little luck, a less painful future.
CHAPTER ONE
Present day
KADY MCPHERSON STUFFED the letter from the IVF clinic into her purse as she stepped out of the taxi onto the sidewalk of the conference center. She paused and took a deep decisive breath. As much as she hated being late, nothing could blot her happiness. She was finally going to take charge of her life after all this time.
One glance at her watch had her racing up the concrete steps. She was supposed to have been here five minutes ago. But who knew that getting a cab would be so hard? At least she wasn’t the first speaker. But she still had to somehow slide onto that stage without disrupting the symposium.
She showed her badge to the official manning the registration desk. He pointed her toward the second door on the left, where a large cardboard placard was set on an easel: Managing High-Risk Pregnancies and Deliveries.
High-risk.
Her tummy squelched just a bit. As much as she loved her job, there were moments like this, when seeing it spelled out in crisp emotionless text sent her mind spinning into the past. As did each case that didn’t go the way she hoped it would. She’d spent nights staring at the ceiling in her bedroom, trying to make sense of it all. Which inevitably led to trying to draw her own baby’s face into sharp focus. Instead, the image had blurred with time.
Pregnant women were her passion. And she was committed to doing everything in her power to make each one’s delivery process as safe as possible. Was it because of the pain she’d gone through when she’d lost her child? Maybe. All she knew was that she was driven to help every woman she could. And every baby.
So here she was in New York, substituting for a panelist at the plea from a sister hospital. She’d come straight from the airport to the huge Westcott Hotel complex—her home for the next week. Hopefully the rest of her stay would be less chaotic than today had been.
* * *
She avoided looking at the sign again, instead tugging the heavy door and peering inside. The sound of chattering voices had her sagging with relief. People were still milling around the huge room, looking for empty seats, while someone passed out bottles of water to the panel members on the dais. Evidently she wasn’t the only one running late.
Making sure that envelope wasn’t sticking out, she shifted her purse higher onto her shoulder and made her way up four steps to the top of the platform.
So far so good. No one had noticed her entry.
She edged past the first three panelists as she tried to figure out where she was supposed to sit. The crisply folded nameplates were facing the audience, so she had no idea who anyone was. There were still two empty seats up here. Which one was hers?
She reached the first empty chair and leaned over it, tipping the paper name card so she could see it. Someone named Abe Williams. Okay, it wasn’t this one.
The person sitting to the left turned slightly to look up—did a second take.
Shock and horror snaked up her spine just as the lights from the huge overhead chandeliers faded and came back up. A signal that they were getting ready to start.
A signal she ignored, her tummy muscles spasming in protest. She pressed a hand to it, gritting her teeth to keep the sudden slash of pain from exiting her throat.
She couldn’t think, couldn’t speak...couldn’t move.
Oh, God.
All of a sudden, Grace’s face swam before her eyes in focus once again. Because she was the spitting image of this man, mirrored in those familiar features—that sharp nose, high cheekbones, those blue-gray eyes.
Saliva pooled in her mouth. A quick swallow sent it rushing to join the acidic lagoon growing inside her.
The lights winked again.
“Hello, Kady. Small world.” The low, graveled tone that had once driven her wild with need was now tight. With anger? Hatred?
If so, it wasn’t reflected in his eyes. They didn’t flicker away, just held hers with an impassivity that made her want to cry. The same impassivity he’d shown at the end of their marriage.
It had been two years since their divorce...three years since their daughter’s death.
Hurt made her draw a shaky breath, unsure what to do or say. The lights came back up a third time, and the moderator moved behind the podium. He gave them a pointed glance that sent her hurrying down the row without a word. She felt Tucker’s gaze follow her.
It could be worse. She could be sitting right next to him.
Worse?
What could be worse than attending the same convention as a man who’d had a vasectomy just to make sure he never fathered another child with you?
She’d pleaded with him. Had begged him to reconsider.
Remembered humiliation quickened her steps.
Never again. She would never rely on another man for her happiness. This time around she would be one in charge of her future. Of whether she had another child or not.
She dropped into the padded metal seat and scooted it under the table, cringing as the legs made an awful squealing sound against the polished wooden floor. The man at the podium glanced her way again, a frown on his face. She mouthed, “Sorry,” then dug into her attaché for the notes she’d brought. How was she going to speak when it came her turn?
The crowded room would have been nerve-racking enough, but to have someone who’d once known the most intimate details of her life sit there and weigh her every word?
Her thumb scrubbed over the spot on her finger. Empty, but not forgotten. Neither had her muscle memory erased the habit of reaching for it whenever she was nervous.
Or missing him.
No, she didn’t miss him. Not anymore.
The moderator gave a quick summary of the topic and then started down the line of presenters, reading from a sheet that evidently contained each person’s professional bio. She stared at her notes, willing the words to make sense. Willing herself to drown out the well-modulated voice from seconds earlier. Her thumb searched for that missing ring yet again.
Stop it, Kady.
She should have been counting people, so she could brace herself for the mention of her ex’s name, but since she didn’t remember how many seats there were, all she could do was sit there in dread.
“Dr. Tucker Stevenson, pediatric surgeon specializing in fetal surgery at Wilson-Ross Memorial Hospital, New York City.”
Her heart twisted. Even the best surgeon in the world couldn’t have prevented what had happened three years ago. And Tucker was one of the best.
The moderator moved on to the next panelist, listing dry facts that barely scratched the surface of what made each person live and breathe...and grieve.
“Dr. Kadeline McPherson, maternal-fetal medicine, at Wilson-Ross Memorial Hospital, Atlanta, Georgia.”
No mention of anyone’s personal life, how many children, spouse’s name. Thank God. And she was even more thankful that she’d gone back to her maiden name. Kadeline Stevenson might have caused awkward questions that she’d rather not answer. She suspected Tucker would prefer that little tidbit to remain buried as well.
She gulped.
Buried.
She hated that word. Avoided using it like the plague.
Speech. Read your speech.
Fiddling with her thin sheaf of papers that contained words she’d recited hundreds of times, she prayed for a clear head. The question-and-a
nswer phase was the trickier part, trying to think up responses on the fly.
With Tucker sitting in the same room.
Forget about him, Kady.
The table microphone inched its way down the line as each person finished.
Tucker’s turn came, and his voice cut through her all over again. So much for forgetting about him.
His words were sure and firm, with a confidence that came with being the top in his field.
Kady closed her eyes and tried to drown him out with a bawdy mental rendition of “Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer on the Wall”, but it didn’t work. Especially since he’d sung that very song to her during her labor to take her mind off the pain.
If only she’d known the real pain would come months after the baby’s actual birth.
“Fetal surgical intervention is necessary in any number of cases. My most recent involved an obstructed urethra in an eight-month-old fetus. Surgery removed the blockage and mother and baby were both fine.”
They were both fine. How many times did he say that in a day?
Light applause followed his speech, just like it had everyone else’s. Kady realized she was the only one not clapping, but just as she went to join in, the sound died away, leaving her with her hands up, palms facing each other.
Tucker chose that very moment to glance her way. One side of his mouth quirked up, a crease coming to life in his right cheek.
Her breath caught as a spark of something dark arrowed through her abdomen. For a few awful seconds she couldn’t look away. He evidently didn’t have the same problem, giving his attention to the next speaker, who talked about controlling blood pressure in patients with preeclampsia.
She wasn’t making that mistake again.
She focused on some nameless audience member as the microphone moved again, capturing the topic of twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome. So far no one had mentioned genetic abnormalities, but no symposium of high-risk pregnancies would be complete without that element. Normally she could just sit there stoically, an expression of polite interest superglued to her face.