The Doctor's Secret Bride (Billionaire Brides of Granite Falls)

by Ana E Ross

  Cover Design by Nina Cord

  The Doctor’s Secret Bride

  Copyright © 2012 by Ana E Ross

  All rights reserved. Except for brief quotes used in reviews, no portion of this story may be used or reproduced in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or any other device now known or invented hereafter without the written permission of the author. These forms include, but are not limited to xerography, photocopying, scanning, recording, distributing via Internet means, informational storage or retrieval system.

  Ana E Ross can be contacted via her website: .anaeross.com

  This story is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Similarities to actual events, locales, business establishments, or persons living or dead, are purely coincidental.

  Edited by Jane Haertel.

  Formatted with DocZone Book Publisher

  Dedication

  To my lovely daughter, Nicoya, whose childhood precociousness and beauty inspired the creation of Precious.

  PROLOGUE

  Michelle placed her order at the counter and was just about to sit down at a corner table in Mama Lola’s, her favorite diner on Elm Street, when she heard someone call her name.

  “Michelle,” the familiar voice said again.

  Michelle looked around and immediately burst into a wide grin when she saw the aged, but easily recognizable face smiling back at her. “Mrs. Hayes.” She took the few steps toward the booth the woman occupied. “Oh my gosh,” she cried, bending down to give her a big hug and kisses on both cheeks. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”

  “Not since you and Robert moved out of the neighborhood—say about twelve years ago? But I would recognize you anywhere, my child. You look just like your mother. She was a beautiful woman.”

  Michelle smiled at the mention of her mother. “Lucky me, huh? So how have you been?” she asked as pleasant memories of Mrs. Hayes rose to the surface of her mind.

  “The Lord has been good to me. I can’t complain. I’ve already eaten, but I’d love it if you’d sit with me while you eat.” Mrs. Hayes pointed to the seat on the opposite side of the table.

  Michelle glanced warily at the newspaper tucked under her arm. It was her lunch hour from the temp job she was currently working, and she’d intended to browse through the Want Ads over her favorite turkey sandwich. She usually packed her lunch to save money, but the battery in her alarm clock died during the night, and by the time she rolled out of bed, she barely had enough time to make the bus this morning. Since Mama Lola’s was in her old neighborhood and in walking distance from her job, she’d decided to eat here, just for old times sake.

  “You in a hurry?” Mrs. Hayes asked at her hesitance.

  Michelle stared into the gentle brown eyes. How could she refuse this kind old lady who’d taken such care of her since she was a baby? Mrs. Hayes had kept her and Robert fed and warm many winter nights when their father was nowhere to be found. “No. I’m in no hurry.” She scooted onto the vinyl seat, dropped her bag and newspaper down beside her, and placed her bottle of water on the table.

  Mrs. Hayes’ face relaxed and she leaned back into the seat.

  “What are you doing in Manchester?” Michelle asked. “Last I heard you’d sold your house and moved out of town.”

  Mrs. Hayes took a sip of her iced tea. “I’m visiting a sick friend. You remember Thelma Parson? She lived in the apartment house behind mine.”

  Michelle thought for a moment. “Oh yeah. She had that stupid dog that wouldn’t stop barking, and a bunch of cats that kept having kittens.”

  Mrs. Hayes laughed. “Yes. That Thelma. She had a hip replacement recently, so I stopped by to spend some time with her. Poor thing; she has no one to help her out. Since I was already in the neighborhood, I decided to stop by to see Lola, but she’s away on vacation.” Her eyes lit up with curiosity. “So what have you been up to since the last time I saw you?” She glanced at Michelle’s left hand lying on the table. “I see you haven’t been snatched up by some lucky young man, yet.”

  Michelle chuckled. “No, not yet. I guess I’m too picky. I’ll probably end up as sad and alone as Thelma and hope that some dear friend comes by to pay me a visit in my old age.”

  “I doubt that very much. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with being picky. You should never settle. When you make that kind of commitment, you want to make sure it has a chance to last forever.”

  Forever was one thing Michelle didn’t want to think about. It was hard enough making it from one day to the next, or more specifically from morning to night.

  The waitress brought over her sandwich, and Michelle immediately bit into it. She didn’t have much time before she had to be back behind her desk at Reagan Electronics.

  “How is Robert?” Mrs. Hayes asked when Michelle put down her half-eaten sandwich to take a sip from her water bottle.

  “He’s well. He has a dental practice in Boston, and it’s really flourishing,” she said with pride bubbling in her heart for her big brother.

  “Good for him. I always knew he’d make something grand of himself. What about you, Michelle? What have you done with your life?”

  Michelle took a deep breath. She’d done something well with her life, too, but it had been ripped away from her. Stolen. “I’m doing okay,” she lied. No need to burden the old woman with her sad life’s story.

  “What is okay?” Mrs. Hayes reached across the table and covered Michelle’s hand with hers.

  Michelle glanced at the pale freckled hand against her darker one. Mrs. Hayes had known her from the moment she was pulled from her mother’s womb. The woman knew her, maybe better than she knew herself. “Okay means I’m not doing as well as I should be. I finished college, landed a great job, but lost it due to the failing economy. I haven’t been able to find another one. I’ve been temping ever since.”

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. Hayes mumbled, patting her hand. “What kind of job are you looking for?”

  “I’m trained in Human Resources, but anything permanent would do. What?” she added, eying her friend with hope. “Do you know somebody who’s hiring? You used to have a lot of clout back in the day when you operated your cleaning business. You got a lot of kids in our neighborhood summer jobs with some of the most prominent companies in Manchester. Some of them still work for those companies.”

  Mrs. Hayes shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid I’ve lost my clout, my dear. With takeovers, sellouts, buyouts, and the likes, I don’t know who owns what anymore.”

  Michelle tried to smile through her disappointment. She should know better than to hope. Hope had ceased being her friend since that fateful night, two years ago. Or maybe she’d never met Hope. After all, her mother had died giving birth to her. Seems like she’d been cursed since the day she was born.

  “Cheer up, my child,” Mrs. Hayes said, placing her hand against Michelle’s cheek. “The Lord isn’t done with you. Maybe He hasn’t even begun working on you, yet. Who knows?”

  CHAPTER ONE

  One month later:

  Erik frowned as a young woman hopped out of the cab that had just pulled into his driveway. His frown deepened when she hauled a suitcase out behind her, raised her hand to shade her eyes against the noonday sun, and gazed speculatively up at his house.

  “They have got to be kidding me,” he muttered. He’d distinctly requested an older woman—no younger than fifty, who had experience taking care of young children.

  Someone from the agency had called to say that the scheduled candidate had
canceled due to a family emergency, and that a Michelle Carter would be coming instead. Was it okay if she brought her credentials with her?

  Although the agencies conducted investigations, Erik ran his own background checks before interviewing potential employees. He could never be too careful when it came to the welfare of his only child. Today, he’d trusted Ready Nanny Agency because there was no time to check, and look what they sent him—a girl barely out of her teens.

  Her hair was cut too short for a woman. She was too skinny and too tall. Her jeans were fitted too tightly, and the seductive sway of her narrow hips was unequivocally too provocative. Despite his objections, and the fact that he handled women’s naked bodies on a daily basis, Erik felt a poignant stir in his loins.

  After ten years as a gynecologist, he’d learned to channel his sexual energy elsewhere when he walked into an examination room to see a patient. It was all professional. The woman walking up his driveway wasn’t his patient, and the images running through his head were anything but professional. They involved tangled sheets, soft sighs, harsh moans, musky odor rising from damp smooth skin...

  Shaking the libidinous thoughts from his head, Erik tightened his jaws and moved away from the window. He’d been without a woman for too long. Yes, that was definitely his problem. It had been two years since his wife’s death, and since that fateful night, he hadn’t looked at any woman twice, much less bedded one.

  At the chime of the doorbell, Erik stepped into the hallway and caught up with his housekeeper. “Mrs. Hayes, tell the young lady that I was called to the hospital, and—um—that I will contact the agency with a new date for an interview.”

  “Yes, Doctor.” Mrs. Hayes threw him a speculative stare at the blatant lie.

  Erik marched down the hall to his study. He closed the door, dropped into the chair behind his desk, and stared at the painting of his wife hanging above the fireplace.

  As usual, he tried to shift his sexual interest in other women to memories of lovemaking with her, but as hard as he tried, there was no shifting for him today. As he stared into his wife’s brown eyes, the only images Erik saw were those of the young girl sashaying up his driveway.

  “Come in,” he responded to the knock on the door. “Is she gone?” he asked when it opened behind him.

  “No. She isn’t gone. She’s still here.”

  Erik swiveled around at the sultry voice. His heart did a triple take, and lust like he’d never experienced crawled through his belly and settled into his groin. At a loss for words, he took a hard, close-up look at the one hundred and thirty pounds of temptation heading his way.

  Her facial bones were delicately carved under her tawny velvety skin. Her short crop of raven hair glittered like strands of black silk in the slivers of afternoon sun streaming through the glass door. Long lashes accentuated a pair of fiery, obsidian eyes, and her lips, full and provocative under a thin layer of gloss, looked as if they’d just been thoroughly kissed.

  She was the most enchanting woman Erik had ever seen.

  Unwittingly, his gaze fell to the ripe swell of her breasts straining piquantly under the stretchy material of her blouse. Was she even wearing a bra? His gut wrenched at the thought.

  “You must be Dr. LaCrosse,” she said, breaking the silence and offering him a tantalizing smile.

  Her unfamiliar, yet highly stimulating perfume wrapped around him. He grew harder. Restless.

  She was probably about five feet, ten inches tall, he thought, suddenly feeling uncomfortable sitting in her presence. But if he dared stand up, she would have a full view of his unsolicited arousal. He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m Dr. LaCrosse, and you are—”

  “Michelle. Michelle Carter.” She held out her hand.

  Her wrist was delicate, her fingers long and slender, the nails red. Channel. Channel your thoughts. Erik’s hands curled around the arms of his chair. “Apparently my housekeeper neglected to relay my message to you, Ms. Carter.”

  She dropped her hand. “Actually, she did. But I’d already seen you through the window when my cab pulled up.”

  He held her gaze, not knowing whether to smile or scowl at her pursed lips. It obviously gave her great satisfaction to have caught him in a lie. “Ms. Carter,” he began in an attempt to repair the self-inflicted damage to his character, “the minute I saw you step out of the cab, I knew you were wrong for the job. For one thing, you’re far too young. I specifically requested someone older who has experience taking care of young children.”

  Feeling the tension in his groin loosen a bit, Erik stood up and stepped from behind the desk. He stared down at her, still appalled that she’d come to an interview dressed so unprofessionally. “You,” he continued, “definitely do not fit that description.”

  With considerable effort, Michelle suppressed the sensual jitters the deep sexy voice of the extremely tall man was causing inside her. Dressed in no smaller than size fifteen loafers, tan slacks, and a white Polo shirt, his olive-toned body was lean, hard, and athletic. He was classically handsome, with a nice straight nose and a rich crop of curly dark-brown hair. His smoky grey eyes, speckled with an array of golden hues, were as sharp as they were eccentric.

  McDreamy and McSteamy rolled up into one. Move over boys. This doctor was so fine, he made her leak.

  Michelle licked her lips as an inexplicable sense of fear washed over her. She’d had to deal with a few arrogant men in her past, but this one made her feel quite susceptible. If she were smart, she would walk out of this room, out of this cold luxurious country mansion and whistle her cab back to Manchester.

  But she wasn’t smart. She was desperate. She needed this job. She needed a roof over her head and a fresh start.

  “Well, have you nothing to say, Ms. Carter? You barged into my study after you were asked to leave. I explain why you don’t qualify for the job, and all you can do is stand there gawking at me?”

  From the way he assessed her with his eyes, Michelle knew he disapproved of her attire as much as her age. Ready Nanny Agency had warned her that the fastidious widower had requested someone much older. Since they were fresh out of antiquated nannies and would probably lose him as a client anyway, they wanted to know if she was up to trying her luck.

  Heck, yes. She had nothing to lose.

  Michelle took a deep breath. When the agency called her as a backup, she was in a laundromat in downtown Manchester. With a ninety-minute window of time, she barely had enough to finish the last wash, pull the half-dried load from the dryer, catch the city bus back to her apartment, throw her clothes and a few other personal items into a suitcase—since she was determined to land this job and move in tonight—and catch a cab to 204 Jefferson Drive in the upscale town of Amherst, New Hampshire.

  If she told him all that, he would know she was desperate. That wasn’t happening. Not today, and definitely not after the way he was looking down his nose at her. She clutched the folder with her credentials to her chest. “Dr. LaCrosse, if I were you and saw me walking up my driveway dressed like this to interview for a nanny position for my seven-year-old daughter, I would have the same reaction.”

  “Is that so, Ms. Carter? Then perhaps you can explain your attire?” His eyes lingered on her chest then wandered down to her waistline before he looked away.

  Michelle didn’t miss the faint twitch of his jaws or the quick sparkle of interest in his eyes. Beneath that grim exterior, when all was said and done, he was after all, just a man. He found her attractive, maybe even sexy, but Dr. Rich Boy would shoot himself in the groin before admitting he wanted her, a girl from the wrong side of the river.

  The moment she walked into the room, Michelle had figured out his type from the painting of the curvy, longhaired redhead over the marble fireplace.

  Truth is, she intended to wear her white cotton jacket over her blouse, but in her haste to get here, she’d forgotten it hanging on her bedroom door. Everything else in her suitcase was wrinkled or damp. This was the best she could do.
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  She had twelve dollars and a penny in her pocket, and she could really use a home-cooked meal tonight. From the aromas coming from the kitchen when she walked through the elaborate foyer, she predicted it would be delicious.

  But as desperate as she was, his arrogance was ticking her off. Since he’d blatantly lied about being at home for the interview, Michelle didn’t think he deserved the truth.

  “Ms. Carter.” The impatient edge in his voice pulled her back on track.

  “Dr. LaCrosse, I’ll assume you were expecting a model of Mrs. Doubtfire or Nanny McPhee, but quite seriously, Sir, those kinds of nannies don’t exist anymore. They are long defunct. Like… gone,” she said with a flourishing swipe of her wrist. “I could have arrived, garbed like a grand matriarch from the middle ages just to appease your visual palate, but tomorrow morning, I would have rolled out of bed, pulled on my jeans and tank top then we’d be right back to square one.”

  He grimaced. “Just as I predicted, Ms. Carter. You’re young, inexperienced, and unmistakably uncouth.”

  “Just because I’m young doesn’t mean I’m inexperienced, Doctor.” She wasn’t touching uncouth. “I assure you, I am highly qualified for the job. I may not be as old as you wish, but I have lots of experience with young children. My credentials will attest to that.” She held the folder out to him.

  His eyes narrowed to amber slits as he continued to stare her down, obviously trying to intimidate her. But Michelle wasn’t easily intimidated. She’d grown up in the toughest part of Manchester. She had to learn to hold her ground at an early age, and so she held his gaze and the folder out until he took it from her.

  He walked to the sliders and stood with his back to her. As he flipped through the pages, Michelle took the opportunity to admire his broad shoulders, narrow waistline and trim hips. She salivated at the thought of running her fingers down his naked body, cupping his delectable buns in her hands…