Father for Her Newborn Baby (Cowboys, Doctors...Daddies)

by Lynne Marshall

  He knew in that moment he wanted her more than any other woman on the planet.

  Just not right this instant. They had work to do, a battle to win, a job to conquer. They needed a victory before they celebrated.

  He took his pocket kerchief and wiped away the lipstick he instinctively knew she’d left behind on his mouth. Doing his best to recover his breathing and tame the sex-starved beast she’d nearly unleashed with her kiss, he glanced in the mirror in the hotel sitting room, inhaled slowly and let it out.

  “You’re going to do great,” he said, knowing she’d knock dead every doctor she met with her great looks, then impress them with her intelligence and hopefully she’d throw in a little charm. She had it all, he knew beyond a doubt. He had to keep his head clear, for tonight was her night. All she had to do was showcase the polished version of herself.

  “Thank you,” she said, standing beside him, gazing into the mirror, reapplying lipstick and fixing a few stray curls in her hair, trying her best not to sound disappointed by his not throwing her on the bed and making love to her.

  Or was that his thought and disappointment?

  He had to focus on the task at hand. Tonight Elisabete Silva was bound to land a job.

  “Ready?” He offered his arm.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” she said, taking it.

  On the elevator ride down to the Paris ballroom he savored the fresh, modern and flirty scent of her perfume, and the way her deep red fingernails matched her toenails. Every part of her had been perfectly put together—even the wisps of hair from the updo falling on her neck seemed flawlessly placed. He was thankful she hadn’t lacquered down her hair with spray. He thought all of this while staring straight ahead, watching her reflection in the polished brass elevator door, hoping she didn’t notice.

  The elevator dinged and the doors parted. A wave of loud chatter hit them as they exited. He glanced at her reassuringly. “Showtime,” he said with a confident smile and nod as they stepped onto loud patterned gold-and-maroon carpet and into the ballroom foyer with violet blue walls and ceiling-to-floor magenta velvet curtains.

  Cocktails were served in the foyer and they’d taken exactly three steps before a black-vested waiter offered drinks. Lizzie looked to Cole, thinking briefly before accepting a glass of some kind of fun-looking pale cranberry-colored drink.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  “That’s a cosmopolitan, ma’am,” the server said, clearly enamored by her beauty. “Vodka, triple sec, cranberry juice and lime.”

  “Thanks.” She took the drink and moved her head close to Cole so no one else would hear. “I’m not nursing tonight and don’t plan to keep whatever I express, so why not, right?”

  He grinned over the insider information. “Why not?” He took a glass of red wine, and soon his eyes scanned the gathered group for familiar faces. “Ah, George Eckhart, from the Philadelphia program. Follow me.” Why waste time?

  On task, she took a quick sip of her cocktail and matched him step for step around one group of people then another to reach his mark.

  “George! Good to see you.”

  Dr. Eckhart’s eyes reflected respect when he greeted Cole, then they lit up with new interest when Cole introduced him to Elisabete Silva, MD. After that, as hoped and planned for, every doctor he introduced her to reacted nearly identically, and Lizzie became a force to be reckoned with over cocktails.

  By 7:00 p.m. someone used a mallet on a brass gong to announce that dinner was served and to direct people to the Paris ballroom. The epic room was set with round dining tables covered in silver cloth, sparkling crystal goblets and the best hotel china and silver, and with vases of white hydrangeas at the center. Cole had checked the seating chart and was happy to see the head of the MGH resident program in Boston would be at their table.

  Taking Lizzie’s hand, and thoroughly enjoying the feel of her cool fingers wrapping around his, he led her to table number thirty, midway into the ballroom. Dr. Linda Poles might not respond to Lizzie’s beauty, but she was sure to appreciate her intelligence and Boston wit. Cole traded a name plate to make sure Lizzie was next to the doctor and watched as the friendly-faced, middle-aged woman in a standard black evening dress approached.

  He’d been right, Lizzie and Linda hit it off immediately, talking about their favorite city, Boston, and the rest of the night played out like a well-rehearsed dream.

  By 10:00 p.m. the event was winding down, having raised more money for their cause than on any previous year.

  Cole made sure Lizzie bid good-night to Dr. Poles, and also to the doctor from the New York internal-medicine program, Joseph Steinberg, who’d been sitting at a nearby table, and whom Cole had made sure Lizzie had spent time chatting with between the main course and dessert with coffee. Both doctors seemed genuinely taken with Lizzie, as had all the other doctors he’d handpicked to introduce her to tonight. She couldn’t have made a better impression.

  “Ready to go?” he asked.

  “I’d like to finish my drink first.” She’d found a favorite in the cosmopolitan and this was her second…or third? But he couldn’t fault her since he’d put on so much pressure about tonight. Cosmos or not, she’d performed perfectly.

  He took the opportunity to say good-night to a couple more people, glad-handing as he’d never done before, on Lizzie’s behalf. After tonight she was bound to get placed in any number of internal-medicine resident programs. She probably wouldn’t even have to wait until next year—that was if she was willing to step in late. He stood chatting, hands in pockets, with the wife of another doctor, biding his time until Lizzie was ready to leave, when an arm snaked around his elbow and tugged him near.

  Lizzie. “I’m ready.” She smiled, that beautiful beam he’d admired all evening, looking no less for the wear over the past few hours.

  They squeezed into an elevator with a dozen other people and disappeared into the corner letting everyone else talk and laugh.

  “I’ll see you to your floor,” he made a point to say, since he had in fact gotten their rooms on different floors so as not to encourage rumors.

  “Thanks,” she said, fiddling with one of her earrings.

  On the fifth floor they both got off, she stepping out of the elevator first. She didn’t wait for him, but kept up a quick strut all the way down the hallway. For the first time that night he noticed she maybe wasn’t enjoying herself as much as he’d imagined.

  “You okay?” he asked before she reached her door.

  “As a matter of fact, no.”

  “Something I do?” This came out of nowhere.

  He got the long drawn-out stare, communicating he’d probably just asked the dumbest question of the night, and when she’d made sure she’d gotten her point across she answered. “I’m on to you, Dr. Montgomery.” Then she shoved her key card into the slot and pushed her door open.

  He stopped right where he was, trying to figure out what was going on. A couple he’d seen at the gala came down the hall, acknowledging him with nods before heading on to their room, but not before he noticed the woman’s raised brows. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression about him and Lizzie, so he stayed where he was. Just before Lizzie’s hotel door banged closed, she caught it with her foot in those strappy silver heels. “You coming in?”

  He couldn’t very well leave it at that, with her angry, not after all the hoop jumping he’d made her do tonight, so he followed her inside.

  *

  Lizzie had felt like a prized pet all night the way Cole had showed her off. She’d gone along with it only because he’d pounded it into her head that this was all about her future. But it didn’t feel right.

  “What do you mean you’re on to me?” Cole asked, from her hotel doorway, one brow raised, an amused glint in his eye.

  “You wanted to look good.” She folded her arms. “I made you look good tonight.”

  He narrowed that gaze, tenting his brows, and walked into her sitting room. “What
are you talking about?”

  “You’ve made me your pet project, and tonight was the science fair.” She made a huge circle with her arms. “I took first prize. You get the blue ribbon.”

  “Look, Lizzie, that wasn’t the case at all. Tonight was all about your making a memorable first impression on the people who will take hundreds of faceless applications and decide who gets into their prized programs and who doesn’t. It’s a scientific fact that it’s harder to reject a person with a face and a personality than a piece of paper with a passport-sized photo on it.”

  “That’s not my point. I felt fake. Like I had to be someone I’m not.”

  He shook his head and stepped closer to where she’d dug in her heels. “You are Elisabete Silva, in a prettier-than-usual dress, that’s all. Oh, and with a great hairdo, too. Meant to tell you that earlier. Not that I don’t like the braid and unisex clothes the rest of the time.” He worked at a charming smile, but somehow knew how fragile she felt and toned it down.

  He looked sincere in wanting to make her feel better, though, and that was what mattered. But she needed to get the next part off her chest. “It’s all because you want to get rid of me. Don’t lie.”

  His enticing expression changed to far more serious. “We both knew our time together was temporary. I don’t belong at the ranch and you certainly don’t belong in that clinic in Cattleman Bluff.”

  “Who says you don’t belong? It’s your home.”

  “Not really. Not anymore.” His answer bothered her; didn’t he see everything he had in Wyoming? But right now, she needed to stay on point.

  “Well, I like it there. I feel connected with the people at the clinic.”

  “And that’s a gift you’ll be able to carry with you into your residency wherever you go. When Trevor and Julie come back, they’ll take over again. We were only there for the summer. After tonight, your fall and New Year should be set. No, will be set. You’ll have your choice of programs to accept.” He took another step toward her. Why did she feel fragile and invaded, the complete opposite of how she’d felt before they’d left earlier? “We accomplished something special tonight, Lizzie.” The tone of his voice modulated to kinder. Gentler. “Flora will thank you one day.”

  “What about us?” She refused to feel fragile, hated it, made up for it by being brazen. Her fantasy, no matter how silly, deserved a shot. Then she moved closer so she could get a better look at his eyes, since he’d suddenly become evasive with eye contact.

  As she expected, he looked perplexed, as if she’d blindsided him. “A few kisses and a lot of desire doesn’t add up to much, does it?”

  His words stung, but she warded them off with resolve. She put her hand on his arm, needing to make contact with him. Needing to force him to feel something for her, even if it was only sex. “It could have added up to a lot more, but I get the feeling I’m not good enough for you.”

  “That’s crazy.” He nailed her with his disagreeing stare.

  “No, it isn’t. Your whole goal was to change me. To make me hirable. I mean, I know I came from a completely different background than you. Maybe I seem tough and maybe too aggressive but that’s how I survived. I needed to be that way to get by. You’ve kept me at a distance from the beginning. Like I make you uncomfortable or something. Except for when you needed to teach me stuff. Then I became a project.”

  “I couldn’t take advantage of you. Not that I didn’t want you. It wouldn’t be right.”

  “Do you think I’d let you take advantage of me? Come on, whatever you’re referring to is mutual. Tonight, though, I think you took advantage of my looking great in this dress.” She gave a wry laugh.

  “Not so. We seized the moment for you and Flora. You needed tonight. Not me.”

  “So you could be done with me. Right?” She waited for him to look back into her eyes. “Well, your job is over. Now what?”

  He went silent for a beat, cleared his throat. “Now we go back home and finish minding the clinic for another couple of weeks. Then I go back to Baltimore and you’ll hopefully have a spot waiting for you in a resident program.”

  She sighed over his being obtuse, guessing she’d have to spell it out for him. “What about earlier? What about right now?” Her fingers walked up his arm and across his shoulder. “In this hotel room?” She lightly tugged his earlobe.

  “That wouldn’t be wise.”

  “Are you always this shut off?”

  “I’m your boss. You’ve had a couple of drinks and you’re not using good judgment right now.”

  “And if I came on to you, you’d be taking advantage of me?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Baloney. I know what I’m doing. I look hot in this dress. Tell me you don’t think so.” She’d made him look more uncomfortable than she’d ever seen him—and she’d put him in his share of tough positions since she’d moved in to his home and worked with him at the clinic. Her heart pounded with worries he’d shut her down and leave, but she pressed on, needing proof he did or didn’t want her as much as she wanted him. “We’re in a hotel room and no one will know but us.”

  “You’re playing with fire here. One of us has to be levelheaded—”

  “Why?” She’d taken her stand and nothing would turn her back now. She unbuttoned his jacket and slipped her hands inside, exploring his shirt-covered chest and broad back, loving his lingering classic cologne, letting his gorgeous build and rugged face rule her thinking. “I like the fire I see in your eyes.” She reached for his jaw, his nostrils gently flared as some of his resistance eased. He did have feelings for her, just as she did for him, and now was the time to let them all out. “I’ve missed kissing you.” Being in heels, she didn’t have to lift her chin much to make contact with his lips.

  Melding their mouths, tilting her head for better access, she welcomed him full on. His hands shot to her and pulled her tight and close as his tongue delved deep. She moaned with approval. They fought through their kisses without a hint of tenderness. His was a battle of resistance, and hers a fight for what she wanted. Needed. Him. Right now!

  Off came his jacket and shirt, and her dress was nearly torn away when he reached the stubborn hook and eye, but he fought them and won. They wound up rolling onto the sitting-room couch, desperate to be naked and making love together. She didn’t want him to be gentle, and he couldn’t be if he tried. They’d suppressed too much for too long and now was their moment to set everything free.

  His hand cupped and pushed up her breast as he kissed her neck and shoulder raggedly. He got rid of his boxers, and she took the moment to look at his imposing figure. Long-waisted, broad shoulders, built for hard work, yet with muscles subdued by his medical career. His strong legs and fully aroused state were a sight she never wanted to forget, but right this moment she needed to touch him.

  He moaned when she did, and she eased him back onto the couch as she straddled him, her fingers stroking the smooth skin of his long ridge. His large palms cupped her bottom, massaging the hunger for him, and she dipped her head to his face. They kissed more out of desperation than desire. They’d quickly reached the point where they needed to connect, for him to be inside her, for them to be close and tight and rocking their way to release.

  “I’m still nursing and haven’t gotten my period yet—” she had to be practical for this one second “—but it’s your call. Now’s the time.”

  “I need my wallet,” he said, on the exact same wavelength.

  Ah, so the traveling cardiologist knew about being prepared. It surprised her, even made her a little jealous, but she took that energy and helped him find and place the condom in record time, rather than let it hold her back.

  She stayed on top and controlled his entering her. Things were definitely different since giving birth, but he felt great and she hoped he enjoyed it as much as she did. Glancing at his tense yet euphoric expression, she immediately quit worrying about how she might feel to him. He loved it. She drove him crazy
.

  He watched her body as she moved on him, worshiping her with his gaze. His hands gripped and guided her hips just so, his head lifting, mouth nipping at her breasts. Now and then his lids dipped closed with pleasure, but he didn’t stop looking at her otherwise. She fed his lust, and she loved how that made her feel. Powerful. Wanted. Soon, he needed to go deeper and, with her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his neck, he lifted and repositioned her beneath him on the cushions.

  He thrust into her fast and frantic and she lost her grasp on sustaining the pleasure, zipping right along to nearly there and, oops, over the edge. Wow. He groaned all the while her waves of orgasm shot through her spine and down to her toes, and she could feel how her reactions made him harder, brought him closer to release. Soon, with a few long, slow thrusts, he moaned when the moment hit and he hardened even more just before throbbing deep inside.

  The whirlwind minutes of having sex with him were worth every risk as her body took over and, having already been shown the way, she came again with a vengeance around him, lengthening his free fall. They rocked together long afterwards, liking the feel of being joined, not wanting it to end. She loved having her breasts crammed against his chest, and the vision from this angle of his straining shoulder muscles while maneuvering the narrow couch. Damn, he felt fantastic and she wished their being together could be more than just now. But knowing Cole as she did, that would never be the case. She’d forced this. He never would have initiated it, being too much of a gentleman. Like always, she’d plowed ahead in her bullheaded fashion and insisted on having her way. With him.

  He might be wiser than her, but she glanced up at his face and, from his What just hit me? expression, she was convinced he was just as glad she’d forced this completely physical conversation. In fact, it had been long overdue.

  *

  After Cole and Lizzie moved to the bed, pulled back the covers and got comfortable snuggling together, he couldn’t deny the energy and heat this woman brought him. And when in the last ten years had he performed like that? The thought helped him pinpoint what had been missing with his long string of girlfriends ending with Victoria last year—passion.