﻿

Liz was going to have a baby.

His baby.

Liz, who was the most wonderful woman he’d ever met, who was the woman he loved, was going to have his baby.

Elation battled horror.

From the moment he’d been diagnosed with his Multiple Sclerosis he’d known he’d never have any children. How the hell could he have known he’d already fathered a baby?

How could he have a child when he’d only be condemning the child to a father with a disease that had the power to demand everything?

To have loved her, never wanting to hurt her, to keep from being a burden to her, he sure was doing a wrap job on Liz.

He’d told her he didn’t love her on the night she’d intended to tell him about their baby. In his mind he’d had a clear idea of what the right thing was—for him to set Liz free.

Her pregnancy changed everything.

She’d need him more than ever.

Oh, hell.

What had he done?

Janice Lynn has a Masters in Nursing from Vanderbilt University, and works as a nurse practitioner in a family practice. She lives in the southern United States with her husband, their four children, their Jack Russell—appropriately named Trouble—and a lot of unnamed dust bunnies that have moved in since she started her writing career. To find out more about Janice and her writing, visit www.janicelynn.com

Recent titles by the same author:

THE DOCTOR’S MEANT-TO-BE MARRIAGE

THE HEART SURGEON’S SECRET SON

THE DOCTOR’S PREGNANCY BOMBSHELL

SURGEON BOSS, SURPRISE DAD

BY

JANICE LYNN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

SURGEON BOSS, SURPRISE DAD

To my fabulous editor Lucy Brown.

Thanks for all you do to make me a better writer.

CHAPTER ONE

ASHES to ashes. Dust to dust.

The preacher’s words blurred in Liz’s mind like a hazy cloud.

She couldn’t believe Gramps was really gone, that she’d never again look into those twinkling sky-blue eyes, never hear him call for his “Liza girl” or hear his laughter. Not ever. A tear slid down her cheek.

Not that there had been much laughter over the past two years. There hadn’t. Gramps’s congestive heart failure had seen to that. His condition had been worsened by dementia near the end and she’d never known if she’d see recognition in his eyes or not. But those occasional glimmers, those few lucid moments had kept her going.

As much as her heart ached that he was gone, as much as she’d miss him, relief also washed over her. Never had she begrudged caring for her grandfather. Goodness knew, he’d cared for her when no one else had. But working full time as a registered nurse and coming home to relieve the hired nurse each night wore on a person’s resolve, their sleep, their mental and emotional state. Still, she’d have done it endlessly if it had meant Gramps getting better.

Only he hadn’t, and she’d known that no matter how much she did, she’d only been delaying the inevitable. Each day she’d seen him slip further away from the vital man he’d once been. She’d watched him long for death and eventually let go to the disease that had claimed his life.

Thank goodness for Adam. Without him she’d never have stayed sane these past few months.

Dr Adam Cline had been by her side, understanding when she’d cut their dates short if Sara, Gramps’s hired nurse, had called, understanding why she hadn’t been able to stay the night at his place, understanding why their relationship could never progress. She’d promised Gramps she wouldn’t put him in a nursing home as long as she could care for him, and she hadn’t. Somehow between she and Adam they’d managed to keep him at home.

She’d never expected Adam to take on the care of her seriously ill grandfather, but in many ways Adam had. He’d been wonderful.

Was wonderful.

She glanced at the tall, dark-haired man sitting next to her on the hard wooden pew. His strong fingers held her trembling ones while the preacher continued his moving eulogy. Her heart pinched at the tenderness with which Adam’s thumb caressed her palm in gentle, comforting circles.

She squeezed his hand, hoping to convey how much it meant that he was at her grandfather’s funeral. He’d confessed long ago to an aversion to funerals. She’d assured him she’d be OK and understood. Yet here he was for her to lean on, albeit tight-faced, making sure she managed through what she considered to be the hardest thing she’d ever gone through.

Much harder than when her mother had left for whatever had appealed more than her young daughter. Much harder than several years back when she’d been notified the father she’d never known had died in a motor vehicle accident.

Losing Gramps was like losing a part of herself because he’d loved her, raised her, encouraged and nurtured her to be the woman she’d become. She’d loved him with her whole heart.

Now he was gone.

Time crawled as the funeral services concluded and the guests relocated to the graveside for a final farewell.

Weariness swept over Liz, tugging at her already exhausted body, but she kept her chin high and her shoulders straight as she paid her last respects to the grandfather she’d loved.

More tears pricked her eyes when she tossed the first handful of dirt onto the lowered casket. She turned, grateful to find Adam’s broad shoulders waiting for her. She buried her face. His arms went around her, holding her close.

“Shh, sweetheart, he’s in a better place.”

She remained in his arms long enough to pull herself together, then wiped at her eyes. “I know.”

Gramps was in a better place. Had to be. Those last few weeks he hadn’t known who she was, had only registered that he couldn’t breathe. He’d literally been drowning in his own body fluids, and no amount of diuretics had eased his suffering.

She sniffled, then received the line-up of graveside mourners. Gramps hadn’t been social for years and had outlived most of his friends from younger days so most in attendance were her coworkers and friends. Adam’s hand pressed into her lower back, providing the comfort she needed to accept each well-meant condolence, each heartfelt hug.

Her friend Kelly hovered close, keeping a watchful eye and offering her support repeatedly. A girl couldn’t ask for a better friend, but at the moment Liz just wanted to curl into a lonely ball and cry at the loss of her grandfather.

By the time Adam assisted her into his luxurious two-seater, she practically dropped onto the plush seat. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so drained mentally, emotionally, or physically, not even after pulling a double shift.

Now she’d go home to a house filled with reminders of Gramps, filled with a hospital bed in her living room because there hadn’t been room for his bed and equipment in either of the two tiny bedrooms. Plus, she’d liked him being able to look out the windows at the small flower garden she kept well tended even if it meant getting up at the crack of dawn to do so.

Gramps had loved roses, said they reminded him of her grandmother. Even after he’d forgotten most everything, he’d lie in his bed and stare at the blooms outside the window for hours. Liz was pretty sure better times had filled his thoughts, times when his body and mind had been strong, and he’d been happy.

“You OK?” Adam asked before sliding his key into the ignition.

She took a deep breath. Time to start letting go, to cherish her memories of her grandfather rather than aching over her loss. She could do this. “Just really tired.”

Adam paused from reversing the car out of the parking place to look at her. Tension marred the handsome lines of his face. What did those all too intense eyes of his see?

“It’s been a long couple of days,” he finally said, easing the car out of the lot. “You’ve not slept enough to count.”

True. She’d barely closed her eyes since the moment she’d tried to resuscitate Gramps and failed. Had it only been early Sunday morning?

“There’ll be plenty of time for sleep now that Gramps is gone.” She tried not to sniffle at the words. At the reality her life had become a whole lot less complicated three days ago. And very empty. Panic seized her chest, and she fought another wave of tears. “What am I going to do without him?”

“You’ll get by.” Adam shot her an empathetic look. “One day at a time. With each day that passes the pain will be a little more bearable. Life will go on, Liz. I promise.”

One day at a time. In her head, she knew he was right, but her heart didn’t want right. Her heart wanted her grandfather.

“I miss him already.”

He nodded in understanding. “The house won’t be the same without him.”

“I wish you’d met him before he got so sick,” she mused.

Adam was everything her grandfather admired in a man. Everything she admired in a man, for that matter. He’d been so good to her during Gramps’s illness.

“He was such a joy.” Her voice broke. “The best gramps who ever lived.”

“Not that you’re biased.” His gaze softened, full of compassion, before returning to the road.

“Of course not,” she agreed, smiling at him through her tears and counting her blessings that she had Adam to see her through this horrible time.

Adam hated seeing Liz so devastated, but they’d known for months this day would come. Actually, Gramps had held on much longer than he, Liz, or any of numerous doctors had ever thought possible.

Then again, Gramps had had a fabulous nurse who’d loved her grandfather very much and had refused to let him go. This last time she hadn’t been able to pull off another medical miracle.

Personally, Adam thought Gramps had longed for the release death had offered his broken body and mind. He’d occasionally caught a pleading glimmer in the old man’s eyes, a glimmer that begged Adam to convince Liz to let him go, to give her a reason to move on beyond trying to mend the unfixable.

Her red-rimmed eyes tore at his heart, making him long for the ability to ease her sorrows. As a doctor he dealt with death routinely. In many ways he’d hardened himself to bereavement, but seeing Liz so upset, so unlike her usual unflappable self, got to him. First hand, from losing his parents, he knew only time would chip away at the horrendous pain in her heart, but if possible he’d move heaven and earth to put the light back into her eyes.

Ignoring the zig-zag of pain at his right temple, he pulled onto the highway, heading toward town. The cemetery where Gramps had been buried next to Liz’s grandmother was located about twenty miles outside the city limits. He wanted to get Liz home, feed her, and put her to bed. She looked ready to drop and the pain in his head refused to ease.

“The house is going to seem so quiet,” she mused from where she sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window at cornfields filled with a bumper crop thanks to all the rain they’d had so far this Mississippi summer.

“I’ll stay with you,” he immediately offered. He’d stayed the previous two nights. The first, he’d sat with her on the tiny loveseat that served as the only sitting area in her crowded living room. He’d held her while she’d talked about Gramps, while she’d cried, while she’d napped for a few short hours just before dawn. Last night, he’d stayed on the sofa while forcing her to bed. He wasn’t sure she’d slept any more than she had the previous night, but at least she’d made it to bed. Of course, when he’d awakened early this morning, she’d been curled next to him, eyeing Gramps’s hospital bed.

She nodded. “I’d like that. I don’t want to be by myself.”

No way would he leave her to face tonight alone.

Then again, if she went back to her place, all Gramps’s things were just as she’d left them, just as they’d been on the day the old man had died. Liz wouldn’t sleep. She’d sit in the living room, staring at that empty hospital bed.

In testament to how troubled she was she didn’t notice when he drove past the turn-off leading to the small frame house her grandfather had lived in for more than fifty years. Her hands rested in her lap and she looked ghostly pale.

“I’ll stop and pick us up some take-out on the drive home. I’ve not seen you eat a bite.”

She grimaced, shaking her head. “I don’t think I can eat anything. I’m sure it’s nerves, but the thought of food makes me want to throw up.”

“You need to eat.”

“I will, but not right now. I just want to lie down and close my eyes to reality for a while.”

She’d barely nibbled at a few crackers yesterday. Less than that today. He didn’t like her lack of appetite, but perhaps she was too exhausted to eat. He’d get some of the soup his cleaning lady had left him on her last visit and convince Liz to eat at least a little.

“Where are we?” she asked, pushing a strand of her dark hair away from her face and becoming aware that they’d long passed her street.

“I’m taking you to my place. You’ll rest better.”

“But I…” She paused. “You’re right. I really don’t want to face that empty hospital bed.”

He’d known, just like he knew so much about the woman in the car with him. For the past year she’d been a constant part of his life.

That was a year longer than any other woman.

Since he’d had no intention of committing to anything beyond his career for many years to come, he hadn’t thought it fair to become involved. Sure, he’d dated, but always with a clear understanding.

Liz had been different. She hadn’t been looking for marriage and children either. She’d already been a hundred percent committed to caring for her grandfather and no relationship would change that.

She’d been safe.

Not that he’d meant to date her, to become part of a couple with her, but from the moment they’d met he and Liz had hit it off. She was funny, intelligent, and sexy as hell. Without him realizing what had been happening, she had become more and more entrenched in his life until he couldn’t imagine not having her smile brighten his day.

With Liz he’d found himself wanting marriage, children, all the things he’d once found superfluous to his medical career. Had she been free, he’d have begged her to walk down the aisle with him, to be his wife, the mother of his children.

But Liz’s priority had been to her grandfather and he’d understood that. Understood and loved her all the more for her loyalty and big heart.

All the reasons hindering their relationship from moving forward had dissipated the moment Gramps had taken his last breath.

Another sharp pain cut through Adam’s temple, momentarily blurring his vision and reminding him that perhaps not all the reasons were gone. A pain that had become more and more familiar over the past two weeks, as had the blurred vision.

So familiar that he’d seen a family physician friend of his to get a prescription for a headache medication on Friday.

Only his friend had been concerned his symptoms were more than just stress-induced. Particularly when upon being questioned Adam had admitted to feeling tired and having had muscle cramps recently. Larry had scheduled Adam for fasting bloodwork and a magnetic resonance imaging—MRI—scan of the brain on Monday. Only Adam had rescheduled the tests because of Gramps’s death.

Surely Larry was being overly cautious?

But Adam couldn’t suppress the niggle of fear that his friend was right. Something more was going on inside his body. Something bad.

Something that Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Had he not been driving, he would have closed his eyes.

“What are you thinking?” Liz interrupted his thoughts, causing him to glance her way. She’d quit staring out the car window and watched him with her soulful brown eyes.

“Just hoping I left the place clean,” he prevaricated. Now was not the time to tell Liz about the symptoms he’d been having. She already had enough to worry about.

“Mrs Evans keeps your condo immaculate and you’re a neat freak of the worst kind, Adam.” Her lips hinted at a smile. “I’d be highly shocked to find your underwear strewn around.”

“That’s because you visit after Mrs Evans has been there,” he warned, pleased at the smile on her pale but beautiful face. Neither the dark circles ringing her eyes nor their red puffiness could hide Liz’s beauty. She radiated from the inside with a natural exquisiteness he found irresistible.

Adam stared out at the road, squinted to clear his right eye of its haze. Unsuccessfully.

What if something bad was wrong with him?

He’d seen the concern on Larry’s face and he hadn’t even revealed his other symptoms to his friend.

Somehow saying out loud that his surgeon hands had gone numb for a few minutes last week, that at times pins and needles prickled his fingertips and that had been the real catalyst to his visit to Larry, seemed to make his symptoms all so much more real.

No, he hadn’t admitted to anyone that his internal circuits had seemed to be going haywire from time to time over the past two weeks. Not even to himself.

CHAPTER TWO

ADAM stared at the shadowy living-room ceiling and listened to the soft chimes of the mantel clock that had once been his mother’s.

One o’clock.

He owed it to his patients to get some sleep, but no matter how much his brain knew that, how many times he told himself to close his eyes, sleep remained elusive.

Probably because every fiber of his being was aware that while he was lying on his sofa with a cotton throw tossed over his body, Liz slept in his bed.

He’d planned to join her, but she’d been sound asleep. He hadn’t wanted to risk going into his bedroom since any noise he inadvertently made might wake her. She needed to sleep. He’d never seen her look so worn out.

He’d changed out of his suit into a pair of shorts he’d pulled from the dryer, and hit the sofa. Maybe if he checked on Liz, knew she was OK, maybe then he could catch a few hours before going to the hospital.

Who wanted a doctor taking out their gallbladder or repairing their hernia when he hadn’t slept much for three nights straight?

OK, so he hadn’t been sleeping much for the past couple of weeks, which probably explained why he was having the episodes of blurred vision, fatigue, and paresthesia in his fingertips.

It was apparent he couldn’t sleep until he knew Liz was OK. He’d sneak in, reassure himself, then he’d be able to get some shut-eye.

A few hours’ rest and he’d be as good as new. A few hours sleep, and he’d probably be able to laugh away the fear he’d been squelching for days.

That did it. He was going to check on her. Just a quick peek.

He threw the cover to the opposite end of his sofa and padded barefooted to his bedroom door. The door was partially open where Liz had left it prior to the hot bath he’d forced her to take in the en suite. He crept into the room without having to open it wider.

The lamplight shone, illuminating her face. She lay half on her side with her arm draped over his pillow. Her chest rose and fell in even breaths. Her hair was tousled about her face. Her eyes were closed and, although he could tell she’d cried herself to sleep from the lingering puffiness, she looked to be sleeping peacefully at the moment.

There. He’d reassured himself she was OK. Now he could go to sleep. He crept toward the door.

“Adam?” Liz’s sleepy voice stopped him.

He turned, met her heavy gaze. He should have known better than to risk waking her.

“Where are you going?” she asked, looking half-asleep with her sultry eyes and tousled hair. Her lips were parted, prettily plump. She looked beautiful, vulnerable.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Realizing the lamplight still shone, she became more awake, glanced at the clock, and propped herself up on her elbows. “You’re just now coming to bed?”

“I took the sofa.”

“You’re sleeping on the sofa?” Her forehead creased in confusion. “Why?”

“You need to sleep.”

“I need you to hold me,” she countered, her eyes dark and needy.

This was why he’d come in here. He hadn’t needed to check on Liz. He’d known she was just fine, that she was asleep, because if she hadn’t been she’d have come to find him. He’d hoped she’d awaken. Hoped she’d invite him into his bed.

Because he’d been the one needing.

Needing to hold her, feel her warm body next to his, to breathe in the fresh scent of her shampoo.

Because he needed Liz. Needed her to comfort him. To allay his fears regarding whatever was going on inside his body. But how could he tell her? He couldn’t. Why worry her when there might not be a thing to worry about? Telling her at this point would only be cruel.

He’d keep hiding his symptoms from her until he knew what he was dealing with, could assure that he wasn’t going to be a burden on a woman who’d already faced more than her fair share of burdens.

“Adam?” She flipped back the covers, indicating for him to lie down next to her. “Hold me.”

Adam eyed the bed, eyed the woman wanting him to join her, the woman he cared more for than anything else in life. He needed to hold her, to feel the aliveness within him that being with Liz always gave him.

He crawled between the sheets, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed the top of her head. So perfect for him. So what he’d never believed in prior to meeting her.

“Adam?” His name held questions, as if she sensed his unease, but her sweet warmness thawed the cold fear gripping him and he relaxed.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

Yawning, she laced her fingers with his and snuggled closer. “Goodnight, Adam.”

It was now, he thought, closing his eyes and almost instantly falling asleep.

Adam ignored the fatigue clawing at his body and carefully removed another section of Beverly Gilley’s left breast.

He placed the tissue in a specimen tray. The pathologist would check to see if the forty-two-year-old’s breast cancer had spread outside the lump that weeks of radiation had shrunk to a more surgically manageable size.

Resisting the urge to shake his hands back and forth to ease the tingling sensation burning his fingertips, he finished removing her left breast tissue and began examining the left axillary nodes. He’d remove a few of those to send to pathology, too. All he’d have left was to clean up the surgical site to make reconstruction easier at a later date and to sew up the incisions he’d made. If his hands kept bothering him, he’d let the nurse sew up the incision. Although not his normal routine, doing so was a common enough practice that no one would think too much of it.

He’d yet to remove a single node when the anesthesiologist became alarmed.

“Her oxygen sats are dropping,” the doctor said, increasing the amount of oxygen he was delivering and simultaneously checking placement of Beverly’s mask. “Something’s not right.”

“Pulse is up,” the nurse said at his side. “Blood pressure is slightly elevated. Is she going into shock?”

Squelching the voice in his head asking if he’d somehow done something wrong, if he’d missed something because of his distraction with his hands, Adam did a quick assessment of his patient. Erythematous welts began appearing on her skin.

“She’s breaking out in a rash,” he said. “DC the anesthesia. Stat. She’s reacting to it.” He turned to the nurse. “Give epinephrine subcutaneously stat and then add diphenhydramine to her IV line.”

“Yes, sir,” the nurse said, giving the injection seconds later.

Adam hoped no one noticed that he massaged his fingers through the rubber gloves. What was wrong with him?

His gaze met the nurse’s. He feigned calm, reassuring himself that she’d think his hand motions were due to stress, worry over his patient. He was worried about his patient. “We’ll finish once she’s stable.”

Adam stayed with his patient until her vitals settled down, and he felt confident he could proceed without fear Beverly was in greater danger than normal.

Two hours later he propped his head against the doctors’ lounge wall. The cold concrete soothed the throb in his skull. He ran over everything with Beverly’s mastectomy, trying to recall if he’d done anything out of line, anything that might have made a difference in her outcome. He hadn’t. Sure, he was tired, his right eye blurred and his fingertips burned. But even if he’d been at his best, he couldn’t have prevented Beverly from reacting to the anesthesia.

Fortunately, they had gotten her severe allergic reaction under control before the situation had become even more critical. Before he’d been forced to deliver bad news to Beverly’s waiting family.

“You OK?” Dr Roger Bell asked from behind him.

Startled, he raised his head. He hadn’t heard the orthopedic surgeon enter the lounge.

“I heard what happened this afternoon,” his friend said. “Dr Krick told me if you hadn’t realized what was happening so quickly you might have lost the woman. Good going, man.”

Adam shrugged. He couldn’t let go of the idea that he might have somehow been at fault. “It’s my job to keep my patients safe.”

Was he compromising his patients’ safety just by operating on them? But he couldn’t put his life on hold while he awaited test results. Tests he needed to reschedule and have done so he could await results. Why was he procrastinating?

“But not your job to predict the future,” Roger countered, pulling items from his personal locker. “No one can say when someone’s going to have an unexpected allergy like that. Not even you.”

Hearing his earlier thoughts from an excellent surgeon like Dr Bell reassured him that what happened with Beverly truly hadn’t been his fault. Still, he couldn’t quite shake his guilt.

“Just thought you should know that those in the OR with you this afternoon were impressed with how quickly you came up with the correct diagnosis and credit you with saving the woman’s life. The nurses are saying you’re brilliant.” Dr Bell added the last with a grin.

Brilliant? He’d been tired, distracted, wrestling with his fingers, and hadn’t been at his peak. Far from brilliant. “Like I said, I was just doing my job.”

Dangling a shower bag and fresh clothes, Dr Bell closed his locker. “I was surprised to hear you were back today. I figured you’d take off a while with Liz. I was really sorry to hear about her grandfather.”

Adam nodded at his colleague. “I’ll let her know.”

Roger lingered rather than hitting the showers. “You planning to make an honest woman of her now that she’s free?”

None of your damn business, was what he wanted to growl, but instead he met his friend’s eyes. “Liz and I have no definite plans for the future.”

He couldn’t make plans with Liz until after he’d had the tests Larry had ordered, until he knew what the hell was going on with him.

Until he knew if he had a future to plan.

“Your lab results all came back perfect,” Larry, the family physician Adam had been good friends with since he’d moved to Robertsville, said. From the look on Larry’s face, not everything had come back perfect, though.

“The MRI?”

Larry took a deep breath, met his gaze head on. Premonition filled Adam. This was going to be bad. Very bad. Like maybe he didn’t want to know after all bad.

“I wish I could say it was perfect, too, but it wasn’t.” Larry didn’t seem in a hurry to tell Adam the results, seemed to be struggling with how to wrap his tongue around the words.

“Just get on with it,” Adam spat out, no longer willing to wait patiently for the results of the scan he’d gone for yesterday morning.

Did he have a brain tumor? It was the explanation that kept running through his mind. Then he’d tell himself he was being foolish, a hypochondriac of the worst kind. Of course his scan was going to come back normal. Of course he was going to be just fine and have a future with Liz.

Brain tumors didn’t happen to regular guys like himself. Not in the prime of their lives.

“Your MRI showed demyelization of gray matter in your brain.”

Demyelization? The breakdown of the protective lining around nerve cells? But…

“What does that mean?” Even as he asked, possibilities ran through his mind. Demyelization. An autoimmune response. His body was attacking itself? Why the hell would it do that? Why now?

Larry took another breath. “It means I’m going to schedule you to see a neurologist in Jackson.”

“A neurologist?”

Larry looked at him oddly. Adam imagined he did sound a bit odd, but Larry was talking about his body, his life, his future. Could he help it if he was asking questions that as a physician he should know the answers to? Questions he did know the answers to? A neurologist specialized in diseases of the brain and nervous system. Demyelization diseases such as…no, he wouldn’t go there. Wouldn’t think the worst.

“There’s a specialist in Jackson. He’s involved in multiple sclerosis research.”

Damn it. He’d just decided not to go there. With Larry saying the words out loud, he couldn’t help but go there.

“MS?” Did he sound as blown away as he felt? MS. He could end up paralyzed, completely dependent on others for even the most basic of things. He didn’t have MS. He couldn’t have MS.

“I want you to see Dr Winters. I put in a call to his office as soon as I got your report. He’s out of town at a convention until next week, but you’re scheduled for an early morning appointment on his first day back in the office.”

“MS?” he repeated. There had to be a mistake. The MRI must be wrong. This wasn’t happening to him.

“With the demyelization, I have to consider MS on the list of differential diagnoses. You know that. You’ll need further testing before any diagnosis can be confirmed, but I suspect Dr Winters is going to verify my suspicion.”

Adam winced, knowing what that further testing would involve. “A spinal tap.”

Larry nodded. “And evoked potential testing, where an electrical impulse is applied to various parts of your body to see how the nerve cells conduct the impulse and if there’s any demyelization of the peripheral nerve cells.”

Adam attempted to digest what he was being told. MS. Him. It couldn’t be true.

Visual changes. Pin-prickling sensations in his fingers. Numbness in his hands. Fatigue. Muscle aches and weakness. Headaches.

Hell. It could be true.

If it was true, his entire life would never be the same.

If true, he would lose everything he’d ever held dear. His career. Liz.

Because there was no way in hell he’d ever tie Liz to a doomed man, and if he had MS that’s exactly how he saw himself. Doomed.

CHAPTER THREE

FROM where Liz spoke to the director of the assisted living facility where she was donating Gramps’s medical equipment, she glanced toward the man coming through the automatic glass door.

Despite the gloom of the occasion and her grief of the past week and a half, her heart lightened at seeing Adam. Her gaze met his blue one and she flashed a quick smile at him, but he looked distracted. Actually, he’d seemed distracted all morning.

Bless him, he’d been really busy in the OR ever since he’d run into complications with a breast cancer patient’s mastectomy on the day after Gramps’s funeral. He’d spent the night at the hospital in case the woman had problems during the night. Since then, they’d gone to dinner a few times, but he’d been distracted, his mind obviously on work.

Kind, dedicated, dependable, decent—all those words described the man carrying in Gramps’s nearly new walker.

“Is there anything more?” she asked, feeling guilty that he’d had to finish by himself. She’d helped carry in the first load, but the medical director had stopped her to express gratitude for the equipment that would now be loaned out to those in need.

“I think this is the last of it except for the hospital bed,” Adam said, placing the walker next to the other items he’d carried in. Beneath his T-shirt his muscles rippled and Liz sighed in appreciation of his physical beauty. No doubt about it, Adam was a gorgeous man, but his inner beauty was what had stolen her heart.

He’d borrowed a friend’s truck and helped haul the equipment. Getting rid of the medical equipment, the signs of Gramps’s prolonged illness, had seemed the easiest place to start in going through his things. Besides, she needed that hospital bed out of her living room or she was going to cry herself silly. Her grandfather would have wanted the equipment donated to some needy person who might otherwise have to do without.

Yes, giving away the equipment was a good beginning. She’d tackle Gramps’s wardrobe and closet later, when she felt stronger, more capable of dealing with the emotional baggage that would come with doing so.

She glanced toward Adam and found him clutching the handles of Gramps’s walker. White-knuckled, he wore a far-away look, as if he imagined being forced to use assistive devices for ambulation. Was he remembering the few times early in their relationship when Gramps had puttered along behind the walker he’d quickly grown too debilitated to use?

“I’ll get a couple of male employees to assist you with the hospital bed,” Glenda volunteered, interrupting Liz’s heartfelt stare.

Whatever Adam’s thoughts, he shook them off and nodded at the director. “Thanks.”

Two maintenance workers helped guide the bed off the truck and they rolled it inside the building.

Liz bit the inside of her lip as she watched the bed being rolled down the hallway.

“It’ll be alright,” Adam said from beside her. She glanced toward him, his gaze fixed on the disappearing hospital bed. At first she’d thought he was reassuring her, but despite the fact he stood next to her, he didn’t seem aware she was there. His attention riveted on that bed, not her.

In her grief she’d forgotten that during the time she and he had been dating, Adam had spent a lot of time with her grandfather. He’d loved Gramps, too.

Oh, Gramps.

“It seems strange,” she said softly, placing her hand on Adam’s arm. “That bed has been a central part of my life for so many months. When I think that I’ll never see it again, I…” Her voice trailed off.

Adam’s gaze cut to her. He took her hand and gave a gentle squeeze. “I know.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Losing Gramps is the hardest thing I’ve ever dealt with. You’ve been so wonderful, Adam. I can’t imagine not having you by my side.”

An odd look passed over his face. One she almost thought laden with guilt. But that was ridiculous. Adam had nothing to be guilty about. Still, the look caused nervous tremors in her stomach.

“Oh, Liz! We’re so happy with the equipment. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” Glenda gushed, returning to their side. The woman sent an engaging smile toward Adam. “And, Dr Cline, it’s always a pleasure to see you.”

Liz thought so, but wasn’t sure she liked the way Glenda eyed Adam’s body. Still, she couldn’t blame the woman for admiring what so deserved female admiration.

Adam in form-fitting but not too tight jeans and his black T-shirt was the kind of pin-up calendar fantasy women dreamed of meeting in real life.

“I know you aren’t dressed for house calls…” Glenda swept her gaze over Adam again “…but Irene Guess has a wound I think is going to need debridement. About a year ago she had a similar wound she was hospitalized for. Would you mind taking a quick look so I’ll know whether or not to schedule an appointment? It’s so hard for her to get in and out, not to mention getting her a ride. I thought while you’re here you might have a quick look.”

Adam didn’t bat an eyelid at being asked to check a patient during his day off. But Liz couldn’t help but wonder if it bothered him because he rubbed his right temple. He caught her watching him and quickly dropped his hand.

Finding his behavior odd, Liz followed him and Glenda to check on Mrs Guess. The older woman was sitting on her sofa, watching a soap opera. She seemed more interested in the program than in discussing the wound the director was concerned about.

Adam washed his hands, massaging the soap into his fingertips for longer than normal, once again making Liz question if he felt OK. But with a smile on his face, he dried his hands before putting on gloves and assessing the older lady, asking about the sore that had come up on her abdomen.

“I don’t know what caused it,” Mrs Guess said in her sweet grandmotherly voice, her gaze still on the television. “I woke up with a red spot one morning, and each day it’s worse than it was the day before.”

“Does the area drain?”

The woman waited until a man on television finished expounding an argument in court to a serious-looking jury. Once the scene cut to a commercial, she shifted her glasses-rimmed eyes to Adam. “Yellowish stuff is on the bandage when I take it off.”

“Can you show me the place while sitting, or do I need to help you lie down?”

“You can see.” Mrs Guess raised her shirt and lifted a pasty white skin roll. A gauze pad crumpled. She removed the pad and held the bandage out. “This is the drainage I was talking about. Just yellowish gunk.”

“I see.” But Adam’s gaze had already taken a quick glance at the dirty dressing and gone to the ulceration on the woman’s abdomen. An open nickel-sized lesion with a large area of surrounding redness oozed a sticky honey-colored exudate. Streaks of angry red shot out.

Liz had seen worse wounds, but Mrs Guess did have a serious problem. From the look of the ulcer and drainage, she’d need IV antibiotics and possibly isolation as discovering MRSA had caused the infection wouldn’t surprise her.

“Have you had a fever, Mrs Guess?”

“How am I supposed to know?” She seemed annoyed that Adam had asked her another question now that the program she’d been watching had come back on.

“I don’t have a thermometer, but I have felt a tad warm the past day or two. I thought it was from the heat.”

Adam took her hand, forcing her to keep her attention on him rather than the television. “You’ve got an infection. From the way the wound looks, I suspect a particular strand of Staph.” He confirmed Liz’s suspicions. After burning the gloves and washing his hands again, Adam returned to Mrs Guess’s side. “I’m going to call for a non-emergency ambulance to take you to the hospital.”

The woman looked alarmed. “The hospital? Surely a little sore isn’t that serious?”

“It can be. You need strong antibiotics through an IV. In the morning I’ll recheck you and may opt to surgically clean the wound. Similar to what I did last year to the place on your leg.” Placing his fingertips to his temple, Adam closed his eyes and rubbed the spot for such a brief moment that someone who didn’t know him so well might have missed the tell-tale action. Liz saw.

Did he have a headache? After he finished with Mrs Guess, she’d offer to drive the truck back to his place, run him a hot bath, maybe give him a neck rub. Goodness knew, he hadn’t been getting enough rest with the hours he was pulling at the hospital. But he’d said he needed to make up for the couple of days he’d taken off to be with her following Gramps’s death.

But when Adam turned to Liz, any traces of a problem had disappeared and he wore only a concerned professional expression. “I’ll drop you by your place and meet the ambulance at the hospital. That way I can do a direct admission and Mrs Guess won’t have to go through the emergency room.”

“I’ll go with you.” She’d be there when he finished. She wanted to ask him about his headache, to make sure he got some rest tonight. He’d been taking such good care of her. Tonight she’d make him prop his feet up and she’d pamper him.

Not meeting her eyes, he shook his head. “No, I’ll drop you at your place. I may be a while.”

Huh? Liz blinked at him, sure she failed to hide her surprise. “I’d rather go with you.”

“Liz,” he began, and she’d swear he winced. “I need to make rounds on my other patients. It would be better to drop you off since I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

She didn’t bother to point out that until Glenda had asked him to check Mrs Guess he’d planned to spend the entire day with her. But she did think it and wondered why he’d want to drop her at her place.

They’d always had to make use of every available second because of busy schedules and her limited free time. Maybe he thought time wasn’t so precious now that Gramps was gone and the confines of their relationship not so rigid.

Yet she’d barely seen him since the day of Gramps’s funeral.

“I don’t mind,” she assured him, sending a smile his way to let him know she wanted to spend whatever time they could together. Later, when they were in private, she’d reassure him that every moment they spent together was precious.

“But I do,” he stunned her by saying. He cast a quick glance at Glenda and Mrs Guess, then continued. “You’ve been clearing out your grandfather’s things all day. The last thing you need is to get stuck at the hospital for hours on end. I’m taking you home.”

Bewildered, Liz nodded her agreement, knowing there must be a good reason he didn’t want her with him.

* * *

“Adam? Is something wrong?” Liz asked the following night. Concern filled her voice and he could just picture her twirling a strand of hair around her finger while she asked.

Adam closed his eyes and gripped his cellular phone all the tighter.

From his caller ID he’d known the caller was Liz. So why had he answered? He should have just avoided the call altogether.

Avoiding Liz was what he’d done for the past twenty-four hours. Why stop now?

But he’d eventually have to talk to her, tell her that he was…was what? No longer a whole man? Not healthy? Not sure exactly what was going on with his body, but that he’d be seeing the neurologist for a spinal tap and the other tests in the morning?

On Monday the specialist had agreed with Larry. He believed Adam had MS.

Which was why he’d wanted to spend yesterday with Liz, but gripping that walker in his palms had messed with his head, had panicked him. All he’d been able to think was that if he had MS, the day might come when he wouldn’t be able to walk without a walker. Or worse. The day might come when he wouldn’t be able to walk at all.

Each time he’d looked at Liz, all he stood to lose had constricted his throat, made it difficult to breathe, made him afraid she’d see the anxiety in his eyes.

Then, while examining Mrs Guess, a searing pain had stabbed the right side of his head, making him wonder if he’d black out from the intensity.

Even in her distress over losing her grandfather, Liz was too smart to miss that something was wrong with him. She’d noticed yesterday. He couldn’t keep hiding his symptoms from her. Others perhaps, but not Liz. She knew him too well.

He should have told her the moment he’d started having the blurred vision, the pinpricks in his fingers, the tiredness. He should have told her the night her grandfather had died. Before then.

Instead, he’d pretended that everything was fine, not letting on that he was having symptoms of any kind.

He’d thought he was saving her pain by delaying, but the more time that went by the more he wondered if he wasn’t making things more difficult by keeping his symptoms, his fears to himself.

He should tell her now.

He opened his mouth, intent on telling her the truth. “I’m just busy.”

That wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Not even close.

“OK.” She didn’t sound convinced. He didn’t blame her. His unusual behavior confused her. Hell, he was pretty confused himself.

Silence buzzed over the line, acutely broadcasting that change was eminent whether he wanted it or not.

“I looked for you after I finished my shift. They told me you’d already left for the day. Are you coming over? I could order take-out.” Her voice held hopefulness.

“Not tonight,” he managed to say. What if he had another episode of pain? How would he explain it to her? “I had a long day and am tired.” True. He seemed to always be tired these days. “I’m flying to Alpharetta in the morning and want an early start.”

A lame excuse and they both knew it. An avid pilot of his own Cessna, a scheduled trip had never stopped him in the past. And why had he lied to her? He was going to Jackson, to see the specialist, to find out the truth behind his symptoms.

Which was why he’d lied to her.

He didn’t want her to worry, didn’t want her sympathy, didn’t want her to possibly be tied to another invalid. Liz deserved a life.

“If you’re sure, then…” She hesitated, making him want to tell her how much he needed her, just to have her wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be OK, that she’d be there for him no matter what those damned tests showed.

The crux of it was Liz would be there for him in a heartbeat. If he let her. But he wanted better than that for her. Lots better.

Be strong, man. You’ve got to see this through, find out for sure what’s going on before involving Liz.

“Sorry, Liz, but I’ve got to go.” He hung up before she could say anything more.

But mostly before he could say anything more.

The next morning Adam sat in a Jackson Neurology Clinic exam room, staring at a framed Norman Rockwell print that hung on the wall opposite him.

Too bad real life wasn’t as idyllic as Norman Rockwell presented it.

When the neurologist walked into the room, Adam knew by the expression Dr Winters wore that the test results hadn’t been good.

By now he should be used to that expression. Hadn’t every bit of news he’d gotten thus far been bad?

The neurologist pulled up his stool, glanced down at the piece of paper containing words that would forever change Adam’s life, and then glanced up. “There’s no good way to put this and we pretty much already knew what the conclusions of the tests were going to be, so I’m going to be blunt. You have MS.”

Adam’s ears roared. His blood boiled. His skin crawled. He gritted his teeth. He clenched his tingling fingers. Still his body threatened to explode from the impact of those words.

He had MS.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes. The analysis of the cerebral spinal fluid shows protein, cells, and increased antibody production. Antibodies containing oglioclonal bands. Unfortunately, that in combination with the demyelization revealed on the MRI are conclusive even if the evoked potential testing hadn’t been positive.”

There was that damned expression again.

“But they were positive, too, weren’t they?” Because all his tests pointed in one direction. A direction he didn’t want to go, but had no choice but to take.

He had MS.

The specialist nodded. “I’m sorry.”

All night he’d lain in bed preparing himself for this, preparing to hear that his body was attacking itself. Yet he shook. Any moment he expected the earth to open, for lightning to strike, for a tornado to rip him from the ground. Because any of those things were possible and expected in this horrible nightmare.

This had to be a nightmare.

God, he hoped it was only a nightmare.

He couldn’t have a debilitating disease. Not him. Not when he had so much to live for. So much he wanted to do with and give to Liz.

MS.

He shuddered. His stomach churned. His heart sank.

Fate couldn’t be this cruel.

Could it?

He closed his eyes and forced himself together. Forced his emotions under control. Well, not control, but the closest he could manage. He doubted he’d ever feel in control of his body, his life, again.

Steeling himself for the worst, he met the specialist’s gaze. “What does this mean, exactly? What should I expect?”

Did he even want to know? With the way things had gone thus far, perhaps he shouldn’t ask. Perhaps ignorance was bliss. Before seeing Larry, he’d known something was wrong but hadn’t felt this heavy sense of impending doom.

“Since this is your first known exacerbation, it’s difficult to say. As you probably already know, symptoms vary from individual to individual just as the course of the disease varies. It’s possible this exacerbation could go away tomorrow and you won’t have another episode for decades.” Dr Winters shrugged. “Maybe never.”

“It’s also possible that this is only the tip of the iceberg, that what I’m experiencing is mild and will get much worse before going into remission—if I go into remission at all.”

“That’s true. There’s no way of knowing the course of your individual disease, or how progressive your case will be,” Dr Winters agreed. “Generally there are considered to be four classifications of MS, each a different level of progression of the disease.”

“There’s no way to know which type I have, is there? No test or study that can be done to determine which one?”

“With time we’ll know, but as far as a test I can run…” the doctor shook his head “…there’s not. The best we can hope for is that this will be your only exacerbation and that you’ve already experienced the worst of your symptoms.”

“But that’s not what you expect?”

Dr Winters frowned. “You know I can’t predict the future. Anything I said would only be a guess.”

“I could lose control of my body functions, go paralyzed, even die from this.”

“That type of progression is rare, Adam. The majority of MS cases fall into the category where the person only has a few exacerbations throughout his or her lifetime.” Dr Winters gave a stern look. “You can’t go into this thinking the worst. You have to fight, keep a positive outlook.”

But no matter how Adam tried to focus on the positive, on the fact that this might go away, the stark reality wouldn’t let up.

“I could end up in a wheelchair. Crippled.” He winced. “Bedridden.”

Just like Gramps.

The thought of Liz putting her life on hold to wait on him hand and foot while he lay in a hospital bed caused bile to rise up his throat.

“What about my job? My career? I’m a surgeon with MS.” He laughed with ill humor.

He felt like he’d made an admission much as an alcoholic would at an AA meeting. Hi, my name is Dr Adam Cline, and I’m a surgeon with MS. Only with alcoholism a person could fight. How did one fight one’s own haywire immune system?

“Am I medically clear to perform surgeries? To pilot my plane?”

“For now,” the neurologist said. “As long as you’re physically and mentally capable. However, you should check with your airport on any regulatory guidelines that would restrict you from flying. But if your symptoms worsen, I’d have no choice but to put you on medical leave.”

Adam liked his life. He had a great job, a hobby he loved, financial freedom, and Liz. Now all the best parts were slipping through his fingers like loose grains of sand. He wanted to grasp each bit, hold it all in place, but doing so was futile.

“Adam?” Dr Winters touched his forearm. “I’m concerned about you. You’re not suicidal?”

His life might be over in many ways, but he wasn’t a murderer and in his eyes suicide was a form of murder. He laughed with a bitterness he wasn’t sure had ever come from his lips before. “Suicidal? No, I’m not suicidal.”

Although he’d rather die than burden Liz with taking care of him for years on end.

“You know…” Dr Winters studied him “…there are lots of people who have MS who live fairly normal lives.”

Adam nodded. There were, but he had to face facts. His life would never be the same. He had MS and no way of knowing that the future wouldn’t leave him an encumbrance.

How could he do that to Liz? How could he put her in the position of having to take care of him that way? It would be like starting all over with her grandfather. Each day Liz would have to care for him, wonder if he’d be able to do anything for himself, if he’d know who she was, as memory issues occasionally went along with MS.

She’d lose all possibility of having a normal life.

They had to end. Continuing their relationship was condemning Liz to a life sentence.

He wouldn’t be able to tell her why. She’d never let him walk away if she knew about his MS. Not his Liz. No, she’d insist on staying by his side, caring for him despite him trying to push her away so she wouldn’t carry this burden.

He didn’t expect her to understand. Not at first, but in the long run she’d discover he’d done the right thing to set her free.

What woman who’d already given up so much of her life to care for an invalid would want to take on that burden a second time?

Worse, what kind of man would he be if he knowingly let her?