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Love Inspired May 2015 #1

Page 19

by Brenda Minton


  The baby looked groggy, her belly full, content. His earlier panic inched down a notch. “Abigail West.” He glanced again at the form, his chest tightening. Remy had given the girl his dad’s middle name—which was also Jake’s middle name. “Abigail Lee, L-e-e, West.”

  “Thank you,” the pediatrician mumbled, her tone adding an unspoken finally as she filled in the blanks on some sort of form.

  She probably questioned his mental faculties. He was beginning to wonder himself. “Here’s that medical release form from her mother. Do you have some kind of booklet on basic infant care? I wasn’t sure about whether to boil the water or use milk for the formula. Or how to sterilize the bottles—or if I even need to. That kind of thing.”

  “Don’t give her cow’s milk yet. Here.” She wrapped the baby up like a burrito and leaned close to set her in his arms. As she did, the doc’s short, flippy black hair caught on his beard and tickled his chin.

  “I’ll go make Abigail’s file,” she said. “You should probably change her diaper so she’ll take a nice long nap for you.”

  Diapers. There would be lots of messy diapers in his near future. The thought nearly made him wretch.

  “You have changed her diaper, haven’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Ever changed any diaper?”

  “No.” His incompetence had been revealed. Could she report someone for being an inept babysitter?

  She simply sighed. “Sounds like you need a crash course.”

  “I do. Would you be willing to come home with me to help get Abigail settled? I’ll pay you whatever you’d bill for, what? Four appointments in an hour? Six?”

  “Do you have a friend you could ask?” Her hazel eyes were serious, concerned, as if she feared he didn’t have any friends. Which only showed she must think the worst of him. Still, for some reason, he found the concern endearing.

  Caution, Jake. No matter how cute she looks with her feathery hair and big serious eyes, this conniving woman took advantage of Aunt Edith and Uncle Paul. “No, I don’t have anyone else to ask. The older ladies in my church may not know the current child-rearing recommendations. I don’t know the young moms well enough to ask a favor. And the women I’ve dated...well, none of them would be good with kids.”

  She gave a derisive snort. “Not dating the maternal type, huh?”

  No, his dates were more into skydiving or mountain climbing than children. But he wasn’t going to stoop to answer her snooty question. She could think badly of him all she wanted. He didn’t value her opinion unless it had to do with Abigail. “I’ll pay you. Just name your price.”

  “My price? Quit bad-mouthing me to people in town.”

  Stunned by her bluntness, he huffed. “I’ve only spoken the truth.”

  “There’s no way you know every detail of the contract negotiations. Get the facts straight before you start smearing someone’s reputation.”

  Oh, he knew all about the contract negotiations between her and Paul and Edith—and how she’d found fault with the way the business had been run, had brought in her expensive Atlanta lawyer to do her bidding. Jake even knew the final sale price—which he thought entirely too low for something his aunt and uncle had built for decades, since before Jake’s parents died.

  Looking around the room at the same child-friendly posters and colorful furniture his aunt and uncle had lovingly put in place made him sad. Jake wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t let the doctor from the huge city clinic come in acting as if his family were bumpkins, and taking advantage of them, without repercussions.

  Despite his opinion of her, though, he needed her help. For the baby’s sake. “Will you please help me with Abigail?” The words grated in his throat, nearly choking him.

  She stared into his eyes until the moment became uncomfortable. Briefly, he thought he saw pain, but then the pediatrician snatched a diaper out of the bag. “Helping you set up for a baby is not something I can bill as a medical service.”

  “I’ll pay you directly, like a babysitting subcontractor.”

  “I’ll give you an hour.”

  The tension in his shoulders relaxed as he laid Abigail on the exam table. “Thank you.”

  Violet made quick work of the diaper, so smoothly the little gal barely stirred from her sleep. “I’ll teach you to do this on her next diaper change.”

  Once she was done, she handed the baby back to him. He gently buckled her into her car seat, even managing not to wake her. Maybe he’d get the hang of this temporary fatherhood job after all.

  As he lifted the carrier, Abigail suddenly cried out as if in some sort of pain.

  “Did your cousin happen to mention the baby being colicky?” the doc asked over the screeching cries.

  He swung the car seat back and forth, trying to soothe her. “No.”

  “This might be a long few nights for you, Jake.”

  Few nights? If only...

  “That diaper bag is all I have,” he said. “I guess I need to stop and buy some supplies on the way home.”

  “I don’t mind picking up the basics for you before I come over.”

  “But—”

  “You can pay me back later.”

  Before he could refuse, she said, “I heard you moved into your aunt and uncle’s house. I’ll be there shortly.” She was no-nonsense, used to being obeyed. She breezed out of the room, presumably to show him out.

  When they reached the front door, she unlocked it and held it open.

  “I appreciate it.” With a nod, he headed out, his tiny second cousin or cousin-once-removed or whatever she was to him blasting his ears.

  “Come on now, Abigail,” he cooed in his best soothing voice, a tone he didn’t even know he could make.

  He lifted her carrier to the truck’s backseat. Once again, he struggled to buckle the car seat in place.

  “How about I show you how to do that?” Violet said from behind him.

  When he agreed, she made her way between him and the truck, spun the car seat around backward and scooted it to the middle seat belt. “Infants this age must be rear-facing. And there’s supposed to be a base that stays in your vehicle that the seat latches into. Until you buy a new one, which I recommend, the strap goes through here.” She pointed to a slot on the back. With the seat facing the correct direction, the seat belt easily slipped through and locked Abigail in place.

  “Now that makes perfect sense,” he said with a laugh. “Should have thought of it myself.”

  Violet turned and faced him, looking satisfied. She was so close the evening sun reflected off flecks of gold in her eyes.

  He stepped back, allowing her to slip past him. She did so quickly and darted toward the office building, as if anxious to get away.

  He felt almost guilty for the things he’d thought and said about her. Almost. “Thank you, Dr. Crenshaw. I know you didn’t have to do all this, to go the extra mile.”

  She stiffened as if surprised and glanced at him over her shoulder. “My purpose in life is to help children, Mr. West.”

  Of course she wasn’t acting out of kindness toward him. But he could live with that.

  With a nod, she stepped inside and shut the door.

  Hoping the sound of the engine might help lull Abigail to sleep, Jake hopped in and started the truck. By the time he’d driven halfway home, she had quieted.

  Thank You, Lord.

  Now, if You’d just help me find a way not to alienate the doc before Remy gets back, I’d be doubly grateful.

  Copyright © 2015 by Melissa L. Tippens

  ISBN-13: 9781460381458

  The Rancher Takes a Bride

  Copyright © 2015 by Brenda Minton

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-
transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com

  The Doctor’s New Family

  Doctor Spring Darling has everything she needs. A wonderful family and a busy job helping the children of Cedar Springs, North Carolina. She’s given up on adding love to that mix. Until the moment David Camden and his adorable son appear in her exam room. Spring assumes David is another down-on-his-luck single parent at the free clinic—but looks can be deceiving. Because David has a job—he’s the architect proposing a new development in the middle of Spring’s land! When the truth is revealed, can Spring find a way to keep both her home and the blessing of new love?

  David Camden had played her for a fool.

  “I have nothing to say to you,” she told him.

  “Let me explain,” David said.

  “Explain? You lied to me.”

  “I did no such thing,” David said.

  “First, you let me believe you were homeless and now—” she gestured toward his large portfolio “—you gave a lie of omission.”

  “Did I?” he asked.

  He’d arrived at the community care clinic with Jeremy in his arms. She’d just assumed…

  Embarrassed, Spring glanced at the floor. “I’ve been…” she started, then looked up to meet his gaze. She’d made a major error in judgment, maybe in an attempt to quell the almost immediate attraction she’d had toward him. An attraction that was overwhelming.

  “I made some assumptions,” she told him. “I’m sorry, David.”

  He sighed, the anger seeming to drain from him.“I didn’t mean to lose my temper with you,” he said. He nodded toward the room they’d recently vacated. “I wasn’t prepared for that type of reception.”

  “You should have. You’re here to steal my land.”

  Felicia Mason is a journalist who writes fiction in her free time. Her Love Inspired novel Gabriel’s Discovery was a finalist for the 2005 RITA® Award from Romance Writers of America. She has been a college professor, a Sunday school teacher and a member of several choirs. When she is not writing, she enjoys reading, traveling to new places, scrapbooking and quilting. She resides in Virginia.

  Books by Felicia Mason

  Love Inspired

  Cedar Springs

  The Fireman Finds a Wife

  The Single Dad Finds a Wife

  Sweet Accord

  Sweet Harmony

  Gabriel’s Discovery

  The Single Dad Finds a Wife

  By Felicia Mason

  Love must be sincere. Hate what is evil; cling to what is good.

  —Romans 12:9

  Love is patient, love is kind.

  —1 Corinthians 13:4

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to Denise P. Jeffries, RN,

  for providing medical and clinical information for this novel. Any mistakes here are mine.

  Contents

  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

  Chapter Fifteen

  Dear Reader

  Excerpt

  Chapter One

  The last thing on David Camden’s mind was romance. He had enough complications in his life already without adding the type that generally accompanied females, especially ones his best friend tried to set him up with.

  More importantly, he had no babysitter. And he couldn’t very well show up at the biggest meeting of his career with a cranky four-year-old in tow.

  He had been keeping tabs on the atmosphere in town and reading the articles about the opposition to his project. The online edition of the Cedar Springs Gazette carried full coverage, including a slew of testy letters to the editor questioning the need, efficacy and motivation for the project. It was frustrating to know he was walking into Cedar Springs, North Carolina, at a decided disadvantage—before he could even present his ideas for a new mixed-use development.

  Historical societies and their hysterical members were the bane of his existence.

  “Daddy, my stomach hurts.”

  David looked up from the open laptop on the desk. Jeremy sat on the pullout sofa in the hotel room they were calling home for the next few days. He closed the email from his best friend; the missive spouted the attributes of someone named Susan that she wanted him to go on a blind date with. As if he had time to date. He was a single dad with a floundering business to run.

  “Hey, buddy,” he said, rolling the desk chair over to the sofa. “What’s this about a tummy ache?”

  David crouched before his son. He pressed his hand to the boy’s forehead and frowned.

  Jeremy had a fever.

  Guilt flashed through David. His son hadn’t been cranky because he was four. Jeremy had been irritable and out of sorts because he was sick.

  David wiped a hand over his face and weighed his options. They were few. A sick kid and important business meetings coming up.

  He sighed. It was moments like this that he really missed having the support of a wife.

  He didn’t know any doctors here in Cedar Springs, let alone where he might find one at this time of the night. It was already after seven, probably closer to eight. He’d lost track of time with emails and reading the online newspaper.

  So he did what anyone else in his situation might do: he called the front desk and asked for recommendations.

  * * *

  Dr. Spring Darling was looking forward to tonight. The Magnolia Supper Club’s dinner meetings were always a highlight after a busy workday. And following the stress of this week, she needed the therapy of a relaxing evening with good friends and stimulating conversation that had nothing to do with work. They’d probably review the latest data they’d each gleaned about the mayor’s proposed boondoggle—a condo development and shopping center—as if the city needed more of either.

  She logged her notes from the last patient and was heading toward the volunteer lounge at the Common Ground Free Clinic and Health Center when a ruckus at the front receptionist’s desk caught her attention.

  “I’m sorry, sir. We’re closed for the evening. The emergency room at Cedar Springs General can—”

  “You don’t understand,” he said. “I...I can’t go to the hospital. I was told to come here. Please, is there a doctor who can see him?”

  The clinic’s hours made no difference to Spring when a patient was in need. She quickly made her way back to the front, where Shelby Peters was trying to send a man on his way.

&nbs
p; The man was holding a small boy in his arms and pleading with the free clinic’s by-the-book receptionist.

  “What seems to be the problem?” Spring said, stepping forward.

  The man’s gaze connected with hers, and Spring felt as if a bolt of lightning had hit her. She knew there were people who claimed to know on first sight that someone was The One. Spring had always been the practical Darling sister and didn’t believe in such nonsense. Getting to know someone over time, discovering mutual interests, shared values and overall compatibility—those were the qualities that mattered, the elements that determined if a relationship had a chance at being successful. But this was different, and her breath caught from just one look at the man.

  The feminine side of her noted his dark eyes, sandy hair and the way he held the boy. She sensed in him a quiet compassion and strength, something that appealed to her on a visceral level. Spring wondered at her reaction to the man as she registered the flushed look of the boy’s face. Tamping down thoughts of relationships and the appeal of a dark-eyed stranger, the clinician in her was already running through the paces, assessing the child’s demeanor.

  “Dr. Darling, you can’t keep doing this,” Shelby said. “The clinic is not a twenty-four-hour operation.”

  “Maybe it should be,” Spring said. Then to the man holding the boy, she said, “I’m Dr. Darling. Follow me.”

  “Exam room five is prepped,” Shelby said, resignation in her voice.

  Spring led the way to the examination room. As they went down the hall, she asked, “What are his symptoms?”

  “He was complaining about a stomachache earlier,” he said. He put his precious load on the white-paper-covered examination table in the room. “I thought it was too many jelly beans. We got them free at a shop downtown.”

  Spring nodded. “Sweetings,” she said as she went to a small sink, washed her hands and then slipped on a pair of examination gloves. “They give kids free samples.”

 

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