Prognosis: A Baby? Maybe

855—DADDY, M.D.

875—KISS A HANDSOME STRANGER

889—SURPRISE, DOC! YOU’RE A DADDY!

913—THE IMPROPERLY PREGNANT PRINCESS

962—DIAGNOSIS: EXPECTING BOSS’S BABY* (#litres_trial_promo)

971—PRESCRIPTION: MARRY HER IMMEDIATELY* (#litres_trial_promo)

978—PROGNOSIS: A BABY? MAYBE* (#litres_trial_promo)

HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

435—AND THE BRIDE VANISHES

512—HIS SECRET SON

550—CAPTURED BY A SHEIKH

Contents

Chapter One (#ub680c164-5469-5133-9b36-5bc16ab39787)

Chapter Two (#udc367b01-ea5a-5093-9fae-ac28b8b787ca)

Chapter Three (#u9a13b456-e0ce-55cb-9c65-b34d51a28768)

Chapter Four (#u8812378e-df70-5b41-bc7c-0a341e2b6031)

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)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter One

The last man in the world that Heather Rourke wanted to see stood in the doorway of her office. She glanced up questioningly, trying to mask her speeding pulse with an air of cool professional detachment.

“Now that we’re going to be colleagues, Doctor, I hope we can put the past behind us,” said Jason Carmichael.

Green ice, that’s what had formed his eyes in some glacial age when Neanderthals stalked the world, Heather thought. In this case, the Neanderthal had a degree from Harvard Medical School, short dark hair and a lean build beneath his expensive business suit. His collected manner failed to assuage her opinion that he was a semi-savage male who probably ate his steak sandwiches raw.

“As far as I’m concerned, there is no past,” Heather told the new head of the Infertility Clinic.

The latest addition to the Doctors Circle complex, the clinic was in the final stages of remodeling and would open officially in April, two months from now. Jason had arrived earlier this week but had been so busy that, until now, he and Heather had exchanged only brief, impersonal greetings. She wished they could keep it that way.

Ever since his appointment had been announced last fall, rumors had spread about her supposed dislike of him. They’d been right.

Some fellow staffers attributed Heather’s attitude to professional jealousy. Since she’d worked as an obstetrician at Doctors Circle for three years and had handled most of the infertility cases, she might have expected to be promoted to the post.

Others guessed that there was some personal conflict in their backgrounds. No one knew the truth, that she’d nearly made love to this man more than a year ago after meeting him at a convention. What a disaster that had been!

Heather hadn’t confided the story even to the few friends with whom she’d shared her other secret, that she’d given up a baby for adoption when she was fifteen. Although her daughter had reappeared in her life and, along with a baby granddaughter, was now very dear to her, Heather saw no reason to spread that information around Doctors Circle. In her opinion, the more private she kept her life, the better.

“Did you get my e-mail?” Jason said. “I expected a reply by now.”

“I’m not sure. Which e-mail was that?”

“I’ve only sent one.”

“Then no, I haven’t seen it,” Heather said.

Jason gritted his teeth. “I don’t see how you could have missed it. I sent it twice.”

“I’m sure it’s in the queue.” She gestured at the computer screen that dominated the scattering of files and medication samples on her desk. “I clear it every Friday.” Today was Wednesday.

Annoyance twisted his mouth. “You’ll find I’m a stickler for organization, Doctor. That includes keeping up with your messages.”

“I’m a stickler for being on time with my patients, even when that leaves me with a messy desk.” Heather checked her watch. “Why don’t you simply tell me what the message said? And why don’t we drop this ‘doctor’ nonsense and call each other by our first names?”

Judging by his frown, Jason wasn’t accustomed to being addressed so cavalierly. He’d better get used to it. People in Serene Beach, California, didn’t stand on ceremony. Especially her.

“Very well, Heather.” He emphasized her name. “I wrote to suggest that you and I walk through the new facility, unfinished as it is. I’d like to consult you about our planning.”

A blush heated her cheeks. With her short mop of red curls and sprinkle of freckles, Heather colored easily when embarrassed.