Praise for Lynne Marshall

‘Heartfelt emotion that will bring you to the point of tears, for those who love a second-chance romance written with exquisite detail.’

—Contemporary Romance Reviews on NYC Angels: Making the Surgeon Smile

‘Lynne Marshall contributes a rewarding story to the NYC Angels series, and her gifted talent repeatedly shines. Making the Surgeon Smile is an outstanding romance with genuine emotions and passionate desires.’

—CataRomance

He held on to Andrea with all his strength, hoping that maybe the two of them together could will away any future problems for Dani, even while knowing they were powerless.

Life happened. It just did. There was no good luck charm to ward off bad events or illnesses, or parents letting their kids go into foster care … no way to skip around the messy parts.

As they stood holding each other it hit Sam how, without even realizing it, they’d become a kind of family where Dani was concerned. Did he love her? Even if he did think he might love Andrea, being a reasonable man, he still couldn’t believe it was possible yet. Was he ready to tell her something he wasn’t even sure he was capable of?

Plus, he had Dani now. There would be two broken hearts if things didn’t work out. Yet Dani had fallen for Andrea right off, and kids were usually pretty good judges of character. Which brought his thoughts full circle to Andrea, the woman in his arms, who’d gone all weepy worrying about his son. Yeah, they’d become a modern-day melded family whether they were ready for it or not.

Those astounding thoughts had him squeezing her even tighter, mostly for support. How had this happened so quickly, and was it even possible?

Dear Reader,

Writers are often asked where they get their ideas for stories. I can tell you I get mine all over the place! The spark that spurred A Mother for His Adopted Son came from an article about an ocularist in a regional magazine I subscribe to from Maine. I’d never heard of the profession, and was fascinated by this woman who’d been an art student but for the last thirty years had wound up making beautiful prosthetic eyes for clients. I clipped and held on to that article for a couple of years and it percolated in the back of my mind.

Another day, I was driving around doing errands and listening to the radio when an intriguing interview aired, about a sightless man who had become amazingly independent through using a technique called echolocation. The interviewer began by describing this man as having beautiful blue eyes and, yes, they were prosthetics. He’d lost both his eyes by the time he was eighteen months old to retinoblastoma, but his mother never let his blindness hold him back from exploring and being adventurous. That sparked my dormant ocularist idea and, as they say, a story kernel was created!

An ocularist isn’t a ‘usual’ job for a Medical Romance character, so I ran it by my editor, who was open and encouraging about the idea. Soon the character Andrea came to be, and shortly after that a little boy named Dani, too. But who would be the hero of this story, and why? It didn’t take long for the gorgeous pediatrician Dr Sammy to come into being—a dedicated doctor who believes in medical missions and adoption for very personal reasons.

I hope you enjoy the dramatic and often emotional love story between Andrea and Sam as they work their way to their happily-ever-after.

I always enjoy hearing from readers at lynnemarshall.com. And ‘friend’ me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/LynneMarshall.Page

Love,

Lynne

LYNNE MARSHALL used to worry that she had a serious problem with daydreaming—and then she discovered she was supposed to write those stories! Being a late bloomer, she came to fiction-writing after her children were grown. Now she battles the empty nest by writing stories which include romance, medicine, and always a happily-ever-after. She is a Southern California native, a woman of faith, a dog lover, and a curious traveller.

A Mother
for His
Adopted Son
Lynne Marshall

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To foster parents and adoptive parents worldwide, who open their homes and hearts and make a difference in young lives.

Table of Contents

Cover

Praise for Lynne Marshall

Excerpt

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Endpages

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

SAM MARCUS STOOD in the observation room above the OR suite in St. Francis of the Valley Hospital, waiting for his child to lose an eye. He’d seen his share of surgeries before, being a pediatrician, but never for someone he loved. This time he needed an anchor, so he leaned against the window to see his son better and to offer support against the threat of his buckling knees.

He watched as the anesthesiologist put his tiny boy under and while the surgeon measured the eye globe and cornea dimensions, the length of the optic nerve. His heart thumped in his chest, and a fine line of sweat gathered above his lip as the surgeon made the first incision. He swiped it away with a trembling hand, trying his best to get his mind wrapped around what was happening.

Enucleation.

His barely three-year-old newly adopted son had retinoblastoma and needed to have his left eye surgically removed. He swallowed hard and shook his head, still unable to believe it.

He’d fallen in love with Danilo, an orphan, on his last Doctors’ Medical Missions trip to the Philippines. The mission had been in response to their latest typhoon, to tend to the countless new orphans. He hadn’t been in the market for a son or daughter. No, it had been the last thing on his mind then. Yet there had been one particular one-year-old boy who’d lost his entire family in the typhoon and who’d miraculously managed to survive for forty-eight hours on his own. A little hero.

Over the days of the two-week mission, Sam and the other doctors had performed physicals and minor procedures, as well as arranged for other children who had required more extensive medical care to be transported to where they needed to be. Dani had used his new walking skills to follow Sam everywhere. It’d made Sam remember one of his favorite childhood books, Are You My Mommy? A story his own mother had read to him, where a little bird who’d fallen out of the nest went looking for his mother, asking everyone, even machines, if they were his mother, and it had broken his heart.

All the children on this mission were orphans dealing with their losses in their own ways, yet this child, Dani, seemed to have chosen Sam. He gave in and took the boy with him everywhere at the orphanage clinic, cautiously opened his heart, then fell in love in an amazingly short period of time. Then it was time to leave. Dani cried inconsolably, and one of the sisters at the orphanage told Sam that it was the first time the child had cried since arriving there six weeks before.

What was a man supposed to do? He knew how it felt to be homeless. He’d been taken away from his mother when he was ten. She hadn’t abused him, but she’d had to leave him alone most nights so she could work a second job. Her plan had backfired and the authorities had taken Sam and put him into foster care. Yeah, he knew how it felt to be left all alone.

Fortunately for him he’d been placed into a big happy family and currently suffered from missing them, with everyone fanned out all across the United States. There’d been five natural siblings in all, and he’d become kid number six, yet his already overworked foster mother had insisted on bringing in more foster children—a long, long list of foster kids had come and gone over the years. Why? he used to ask whenever he’d been instructed to share his bunk bed with yet another new kid. We don’t have room for more, Mom. She’d always insisted he call her Mom.

Even after all these years her response never left his subconscious. “We don’t always know how we’ll make ends meet or where they’ll sleep, Sammy, but we just know we’ve got to bring them in because the child needs a home.”

The child needs a home.

He’d been one of those children. And he’d been trying to prove himself worth keeping ever since.

When he’d returned home from the Philippines, he’d been unable to get Dani out of his mind. Missing his infectious smile and unconditional love, he’d decided to try for the adoption in honor of his deceased foster mother, because that child needed a home.

Though it had taken a year and a half to jump through all the hoops to arrange for Dani’s adoption, six months ago he and Dani had teamed up and never looked back. And what an adjustment being a single father had been. It’d always been hectic, growing up with so many foster siblings, yet under the chaos there had been stability. Something he’d never had when he’d been a young boy. That was his goal for Dani, to give the boy stability, but he’d never been a parent before and they were both on a stiff learning curve, working things out, juggling the logistics of his busy career, child care and father-son time.

Then this cancer nightmare had happened, and any stability they’d established had been replaced with utter mental and emotional turmoil.

They’d discovered the tumor on Dani’s very first eye examination in the United States. The simple yet disturbing fact that his pupil had turned white instead of red when the ophthalmologist had shone a light into it had heralded the beginning of more and more bad news. The child had intraocular retinoblastoma.

The team of doctors, headed by the pediatric oncologist, had recommended the surgery after all other avenues of treatment—each with drawbacks and no guarantees—had been considered and rejected. Dr. Van Diesel, the pediatric eye surgeon, had come highly recommended, and since there wasn’t a chance that Dani’s vision could be saved, they’d opted for enucleation.

Sam watched from behind the viewing window as the surgeon, through a dissecting microscope, removed the outer covering of the eye. Next the four rectus muscles were detached from the eyeball, then the surgeon placed a hemostat on the stump of the last severed eye muscle. With special long, minimally curved scissors, he cut the optic nerve. Sam’s battered heart sank, realizing the monumental change that single surgical incision had made to his son’s vision. He stood motionless, unable to take in a breath, emotion flooding through his veins as next the surgeon removed the eyeball.

Unable to swallow the thickening lump in his throat, Sam watched as a nurse stood nearby with a small specimen container to collect a tiny piece of the optic nerve for histopathologic study. For their next huge hold-your-breath diagnosis—had all of the cancer been removed or had it spread? His stomach pinched at the potential outcome. The doctor worked painstakingly to also open the eye globe to harvest tissue from the retinoblastoma. Before closing, he placed a plastic temporary conformer into Dani’s eye socket to avoid a shrunken look and maintain a natural shape. They’d discussed in advance how this would be done in preparation to ensure the proper size and motility for the future eye prosthesis.

When he finally could, Sam took a deep breath. The worst was over, no, check that, the worst had been getting the damn diagnosis of cancer in the first place. Since he wanted to keep a positive outlook, he’d deemed today the first step in Dani’s healing. He watched like a hawk as the anesthesiologist prepared his son for transfer to the recovery room and the surgical nurse bandaged Dani’s left eye with a special patch to help decrease swelling.

He rushed out of the observation deck and hustled down the stairs to be the first to talk with Dr. Van Diesel when he exited the OR.

“All went well,” the white-haired man said, as he tossed his gloves in the trash and removed the surgical cap then the mask from his face. “No surprises.” He forced a smile that looked more like a squint. “Should be a couple of days before we get the pathology reports.”

“Thank you.” And Sam probably wouldn’t sleep until he knew whether the tumor had spread or not. But he was determined to keep that positive attitude. As of right now the tumor was gone, his son was free of cancer. That was how it had to be.

The doctor continued on to the locker room. Sam stood outside the OR doors and waited for the team to transport Dani. Several minutes later the doors swung open and his son, looking so tiny on the huge gurney, got rolled toward the recovery room.

He followed the medical parade out of the surgical suite, down the hall and into Recovery. As he was a staff member as well as a parent, he was also allowed to accompany the boy rather than be instructed to wait outside until he was ready for discharge. The receiving RR nurses bustled around the gurney, transferring him to their bed, disconnecting Dani from the OR equipment and attaching him to theirs. Heart monitor, blood-pressure cuff, pulse oximeter, oxygen.

Sam remained by his son’s side, taking his tiny yet pudgy fingers into his own, feeling their chill and asking for a second blanket to cover him. Every once in a while his son moved or took a deeper breath. His heartbeat was steady and strong, blipping across the monitor screen; his blood pressure read low for a three-year-old, but he was still sedated. One particular Filipino nurse looked after Dani as if he were her own. That gave Sam reassurance.

“Is your wife coming, Doctor?” Her Filipino accent made the sentence staccato.

“No.” Sam shook his head. “No wife.”

He’d lost the woman with whom he’d thought he’d spend the rest of his life. She’d walked away. But he’d committed to adopting little Dani and he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing the boy who would finally have a home and a family of his own. Even if it was just the two of them.

“I will watch him,” the nurse said. “Don’t worry. You should take a break.”

He stretched and glanced at her name tag. “Thank you, Imelda. I could use a cup of coffee about now.”

She nodded toward the nurses’ lunchroom. “We just made some.”

He thought about taking her up on the offer but realized how much he needed to stretch his legs, to get his blood moving again. To help him think. To plan. Maybe with more circulation to his brain he’d be able to process everything that’d happened today. “Thanks, but I’m going to take a walk.”

He stood and started to leave, then blurted the first thought in his mind. “By any chance, do you know where the prosthetic eye department is?”

Imelda pulled in her double chin. “Do we have one, Doctor?”

He tipped his head. Good question. Hadn’t Dr. Van Diesel mentioned it at one point? “I hope so.”

As he left the recovery room, he made eye contact with the charge nurse. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes but beep me the instant Dani wakes up, okay?”

She nodded, so he pushed the metal plate on the wall and the recovery room department doors automatically swung inward. With one more glance over his shoulder to his sleeping son, and another pang in his heart, he stepped outside.

The one-hour operation under general anesthesia was fairly routine, and because the eye was surrounded by bone, it made it much easier for Dani to tolerate. If all went well, his son could even be discharged later that afternoon.

He walked down the hall, entered the elevator. His mind drifted to Katie, wondering if this pain would have been easier to take sharing it with someone else, but that was never to be. Katie had stuck with him all through medical school and his pediatric residency at UCLA while she’d tried to launch her acting career. Sure, they’d talked about marriage and children, but mostly he’d avoided it. He’d been left by the most important woman in his life, his mother, at a tender age, and it had marked him for life. Toward the end of their relationship, she’d kept insisting on wedding plans and he’d kept sidestepping them. When he’d finally brought up marriage because of the adoption, after screaming at him for making such a huge decision by himself Katie had suddenly decided her acting career needed her full attention.

He’d screwed up by not consulting her, but he’d thought he’d known her, and she’d very nearly wrenched his heart right out of his chest when she’d walked away.

Not a great track record with the women he’d loved. At least his foster mother, Mom Murphy, had never sent him back.

The elevator stopped at the first-floor lobby and he headed to the information desk. “Don’t we have a department that makes facial prosthetics here? You know, things like eyes?”

The silver-haired gentleman’s gaze lit with knowledge. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I believe we do.” He scrolled through his computer directory, then used his index finger to point. “It’s called Ocularistry and Anaplastology.” The man had trouble pronouncing it and made a second attempt. “And it’s in the basement, with Pathology.” He placed his hand beside his mouth as if to whisper. “I think it’s next door to the morgue.”

“What’s the name of the head of the department?” Sam asked.

“Judith Rimmer. Or, as we volunteers like to call her, Helen Mirren without the star power. Hubba-hubba, if you know what I mean.”

Sam’s brows rose at the thought—so even old guys had crushes—but off to the dungeon he went. Once he exited the elevator, he wondered why the fluorescent lights even looked dimmer down in the hospital basement, but pressed on. He passed the Matériel Management department, then Central Service—the cleaning and sterilization area. He knew where Pathology was—he’d visited there regularly to get early reports on his patients and to discuss prognoses with the pathologists. He’d also unfortunately been to the morgue far more often than he cared to in the line of duty. Nothing cut deeper than losing a child patient, and for the sake of science he’d sat in on his share of autopsies to help make sense of the tragedies.

Sam sidestepped the morgue double doors, refusing to even glance through the ocean-liner-style windows for activity, then squinted and saw the small department sign for Ocularistry and Anaplastology in bold black letters. How many people would even know what it meant?

The office was shoved into the farthest corner in the hallway, as if it had been an afterthought. The panel of fluorescent lights just outside the door blinked and buzzed, in need of a new tube, making things seem eerier than they already were. He wasn’t sure whether to knock or just go inside. He glanced at his watch, he’d wasted enough time finding the department, so without a moment’s further hesitation he pushed through the door of the “prosthetic eye people’s” department.

A dainty, young platinum-blonde woman with short hair more in style with a 1920s flapper than current fashion arranged flesh-colored silicone ears under a glass display case, as if they were necklaces and earrings in an upscale jewelry store. She looked nothing like Helen Mirren but might pass as her granddaughter. What had that volunteer been talking about? On the next table sat a huge model of an eyeball. He narrowed his gaze at the odd juxtaposition.

The woman glanced up with warm brown eyes surrounded with dark liner and smoky underlid smudges. Not the usual look he noticed in the hospital, and the immediate draw caught him off guard. His son was in Recovery, having just lost an eye, for God’s sake. He had no right to notice an attractive woman! The fact he did ticked him off.

“I’m looking for Judith Rimmer.” Okay, so he sounded gruffer than necessary, maybe impatient, but it wasn’t even noon and he’d already been through one hell of a no-good, very bad day, to paraphrase one of his son’s favorite books.

“She’s currently in Europe,” Andrea Rimmer said. The intruder had barged in and brought a whole lot of stress with him, and her immediate response was to bristle.

The brown-haired man with intense blue eyes, of which neither was prosthetic, stared her down, not liking her answer one bit. He may be a head taller than she was, but she wasn’t about to let him intimidate her. She’d had plenty of practice of standing up to men like that with her father.

“When will she be back?” He seemed to look right through her, which further ticked her off. Wasn’t she a person, too? Was her grandmother the only one who mattered in this department?

“Next week.” She could play vague with the best of them.

“I’ll come back then.”

It hadn’t been her idea to take the apprenticeship for ocularist four years ago. Nope, that had been good old Dad’s plan. She’d barely graduated from the Los Angeles Art Academy when he’d pressured her into getting a “real job” while she found her bearings in the art world. Now that she was in her last year of the apprenticeship, and since Grandma was threatening to retire and was expecting Andrea to take her place, she’d felt her back against the wall and resented the narrow choice being shoved down her throat. Work full-time. Run the department. The place didn’t even have windows!

What about her painting? Her dreams?

Had the demanding doctor brushed her off by assuming she was an inexperienced technician because she was young? She didn’t think twenty-eight was that young, but being short probably made her seem younger. If he thought he could be rude because she was young or a nobody, this guy with the tense attitude had just pushed her intolerant button.

“She may not be coming back.” She sounded snotty, which wasn’t her usual style, as she rearranged the ears again. But she didn’t really care because this guy, who may be good-looking but seriously lacked the charm gene so who cared how good-looking he was, had just ruined her morning for no good reason.

She glanced up. He raised a brow and stared her down in response to her borderline impudent reply, and she saw the judgment there, the same look she’d seen in her father’s eyes time and time again. I’m a doctor. You dare to talk to me like that?

The imaginary conversation quickly played out in her head. What? Am I not good enough for you? A feeling, unfortunately, she’d had some experience with on the home front most of her life. After all, wasn’t she the daughter of a woman with only a high-school education? A stay-at-home mother keeping a spotless house for a husband who rarely visited? A woman so depressed she’d turned into a shadow of her former self? Half of her DNA might be genius, but the other half, often insinuated by her father, was suspect. Well, good ol’ Dad should have thought about that before knocking up her mother if it meant so damn much to him.

The invading doctor continued to stare down his nose at her. Andrea wasn’t about to back down now. The nerve. Did he think she was a shopgirl, a department receptionist minding the store while Granny frolicked in France? She’d just spent a week making this latest batch of silicone ears, measuring the patients to perfection, matching the skin color, creating the simplest and most secure way to adhere them to what was left of their own ears. And unless anyone looked really closely, no one would notice. Just ask the struggling musician Brendan, who’d had his earlobe chopped off by a mobster, what he thought about her skills!

“What do you mean, she may not be coming back?” His tone shifted to accusing as if he should have been privy to the memo and voted on the decision. Wasn’t that how demanding doctors, just like her father, behaved? I need this now. Don’t annoy me with facts. He stood, hands on hips, his suit jacket pushed aside, revealing his trim and flat stomach—wait, she didn’t care about his physique because he was rude—refusing to look away from the visual contact they’d made. Something really had this guy bothered, and she was the unfortunate party getting the brunt of it.

“It’s called retirement.”

His wild blue stare didn’t waver, and, as illogical as it seemed under the circumstances, something was going on with the electrical charge circulating around her skin because of him.

A beeper went off on his belt, breaking the standoff and the static tickling across her arms. He glanced at it. She was glad because she really didn’t know how much longer she could take him standing in the small outer office, and most especially gazing into those intense eyes.

It was her job to notice things like that. Eyes. Yeah, she’d become quite an expert during her apprenticeship. If she kept telling herself that, maybe she wouldn’t scold herself later for falling under the spell of a completely pompous stranger based solely on his baby blues.

“I’ve gotta go.” Obviously in no mood to deal with her touchy technician act, he turned and huffed off, right out the door.

Wilting over her bad behavior, she tossed her pen onto the countertop and plopped into the nearest chair. Why had she behaved that way with him? She’d knee-jerked over the intruding and demanding doctor, but wasn’t he acting exactly like her father? Arrogant and overbearing. Lording his station in life over her. Where’s the head of the department, because you’re not good enough. Step out of my way. He didn’t need to say the words; she’d felt them.

Andrea caught herself making a lemon-sucking expression and let it go. Maybe she was the one with the attitude, and she hadn’t even tried to control it. That man had just got the brunt of it, too. Truth was, she needed to be more accommodating to clients and doctors, especially if she actually ever agreed to take over as the department head. Which she sure as heck wasn’t certain she wanted to do. Especially if catering to demanding doctors like that guy would be part of the routine.

She hadn’t expected a young doctor with such interestingly pigmented irises—because that was what she’d learned to notice since beginning her apprenticeship—and penetrating eyes as that guy’s to set her off on a rant. And she’d acted nothing short of an ass with him.

Shame on her.

Guilt and longing intertwined inside her. She’d fallen short of the mark just now, and it was a symptom of the battle she fought every day when she came to work. This was her job, creating prosthetic eyes for people who needed them, silicone ears, noses and cheeks for cancer victims and veterans, too, and it was a noble profession. She actually loved it. Loved the patients and making their lives better. But she liked things the way they were—working four days a week at the hospital and painting the other three. Her heart yearned to paint, not run a windowless department in the bowels of a hospital.

Andrea put her elbows on the counter and rested her forehead in the palms of her hands. If Grandma ever retired, some lousy department head she would make.

A week later …

It had taken Sam a good day and a half to calm down after his ridiculous encounter with the young woman in the O&A department. Where did they find the employees these days anyway? But to be fair, she didn’t have a clue that he’d just come from watching his son have his eye removed in surgery. He may have been more demanding than usual, but he’d been in no shape to judge how he’d come off to her, or, at that moment, to care. All he’d wanted had been to ensure his boy could have the best person possible make a realistic-looking eye to replace the one Dani had lost.

That woman couldn’t have been more than in her early twenties. How could she possibly have the skill …? Yet, he reminded himself, he’d eventually realized that Judith Rimmer had a reputation known all over the country for excellence in her specialty. He’d read up on her online while little Dani had napped one afternoon. She wouldn’t leave her beloved department in the hands of a novice. Would she?

Now, having completely calmed down, and being back on the job with a miraculous break in his schedule that morning, thanks to a no-show patient, Sam prepared to return to the basement to discuss Dani’s need for an eye.

He reached the ocularistry and anaplastology department door, took a deep breath and entered with a plan to apologize for inadvertently insulting the still-wet-behind-the-ears ocularist—if that was even what she was. How could he know for sure? They hadn’t gotten that far. Because his foster mother hadn’t raised an ungracious son—she’d knock him upside the head from the grave if she found out, too. Nor had she raised a son to judge a book by the young cover—not with the revolving door of foster kids with whom he’d grown up. He smiled inwardly, then swung open the door, and much to his surprise found Helen Mirren’s double, not retired but standing right in front of him beside a row of unblinking eyeballs in all colors in a display case. She wore something that looked like a sun visor but with magnifying glasses attached and a headlight, examining one specific eye as if it were a huge diamond.

Sitting with an expectant gaze on her face was the girl, who, on second encounter, and with all that eye makeup, looked more like the iconic 1960s model from Great Britain. Twiggy, was it? But not nearly as skinny. This girl had curves. She obviously waited for Judith’s approval on something, a project she’d made? Maybe, but, no matter what the scene was about, Sam was ticked off. Again.

The young woman finally noticed someone had entered and glanced at him, a quick look of surprise in her double take. Yeah, he’d caught her in a childish lie, so he glared back. He could act as juvenile as the next person, thanks to his four older foster brothers and two younger foster sisters, countless other foster siblings constantly coming through the family revolving door and foster parents who hadn’t been afraid to make threats in order to tame the often out-of-control tribe.

“Reconsidering retirement, Ms. Rimmer?” His vision drifted to a perplexed Judith.

Judith’s gaze flitted back and forth between the woman and Sam, obviously trying to figure out what their history had been.

“Technically I wasn’t lying, because my grandmother plans to retire as soon as I’m ready and willing to take over.” She stood, which hardly made a difference. What was she, five feet, tops? And jumped right in with an explanation. “And, for all I knew, she could’ve been swept away by the beauty of Europe and decided not to come home. To retire on the spot. It could’ve happened.”

Her outlandish cover nearly made him smile. Nearly. But he held firm because he found himself enjoying her flushed cheeks and her mildly flaring nostrils as she explained, her raccoon-painted eyes taking on more of a fawn-ready-to-bolt appearance.

“Which makes it okay that you lied to me?” He wasn’t ready to let her off the hook, though.

She stepped around the counter, taking two steps toward him, never breaking the visual connection, which was surprisingly stimulating. “You came in with a nasty attitude that day and proceeded to make me feel like a novice who couldn’t possibly be of help to you. So I decided not to be any help at all.”

So that’s how she’d read him. For a second he felt like a chump, but she deserved the full story. An explanation for why he’d been that jerk. “I’d just come from watching my son’s enucleation. I needed reassurance he could look normal again.”

Her challenging expression instantly melted into an apologetic peacemaking plea. “Oh.” Those huge eyes immediately watered. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Dr.—” Judith read his name badge “—Marcus, I’m sorry the two of you got off to a rocky start, I’m also very sorry about your son, but I assure you Andrea is as skilled as they come. And because I’m completely booked up with projects, having just returned from vacation, she’d be happy to help you with your son’s eye prosthesis. I assure you, with her artistic background, she’ll make a perfect match and fit.”

Andrea sent a quick questioning glance toward her grandmother but immediately recovered, as if she’d gotten the clear message to play along. Was she a novice? Sam still wasn’t convinced. She looked so young.

“So, what I’ll need to do—” Andrea used an index finger to lightly scratch the corner of her mouth “—is make an appointment for you to bring in your son. Is he completely healed yet? We shouldn’t take measurements until he is.”

“It’s only been a week, but he’s doing really well.”

“Let’s make it next week, then, to be safe. I’ll need to take photos of his other eye and make a silicone cast of his healed eye socket. After that I’ll make a wax version, which I’ll be able to mold as needed to fit. What’s your son’s name?”

“Danilo, but he goes by Dani.”

She nodded, sincerity oozing out of those huge brown eyes. “What day is good for you?” She brought up a calendar on the computer—back to business—and he fished out his pocket phone, tapping through to his work calendar.

Back and forth they went, politely trying to work out an appointment day and time. His schedule was overbooked, since he’d taken off a week to be with his son after the surgery, which was why he was aggravated that one of his patients was a no-show today and would need to be rescheduled, further keeping him backed up. Yet that was the only reason he’d been able to sneak down here at this moment, which had turned out to be a good thing. Which would all be beside the point if he couldn’t make an appointment.

At least for now, since his return to work, his former foster sister Cat could be Dani’s caregiver during the day. She lived within five miles of him and was a stay-at-home mom who needed the extra cash. Their arrangement worked out for everyone, since she also had two children under the age of five, and Dani loved to play with the other kids. He scratched his head, at a loss.

Why hadn’t he considered his work issue when he’d known Dani would need the prosthetic eye right off? The bigger question was why hadn’t he considered how difficult it would be to become a single father in the first place?

Of course, that hadn’t been his original plan …

Yeah, he was in over his head, but it made no difference, because he was proud and happy to be Dani’s father, no matter how hard and complicated life had become because of it. Add another point to foster Mom’s tally, the kid needed a home. “Do you do house calls, by any chance?”

Andrea dipped her head, thinking for a second. “No. But since I gave you a hard time last week, I’ll make an exception for you, Dr. Marcus.”

All was forgiven. Sweet brown-eyed angel from heaven. “Call me Sam, please,” he said, on a rush of relief. “I really appreciate that.”

Their earlier glowering contest faded to a distant memory when she smiled at him. It was more of a Mona Lisa smile, but it drew his attention to her mouth and he noticed a pair of classic lips with the delicate twin peaks of a Cupid’s bow.

“So how about this day next week, at your house, say, sevenish?”

“Sounds like a plan, Ms….?”

“Rimmer, but please call me Andrea.”

“Are you related to Dr. Rimmer?” The tyrant of Cardiac Surgery?

“Yes. Andrea’s my granddaughter,” Judith spoke up, reminding Sam that Dr. Rimmer was her son. Why he hadn’t made the connection earlier was beyond him.

“I hope you won’t hold that against me,” Andrea said drily, as though reading his thoughts and bearing the weight of her father’s perilous reputation. She glanced sheepishly at her grandmother, a good sign that Andrea cared about her and didn’t want to insult her son, though it seemed clear she knew what Sam’s surprised reaction had been about.

Since they’d skimmed over last week’s argument and had moved on to peace talks, he wouldn’t bring up his multiple grievances about the curmudgeon cardiac surgery department head who wanted to throw his weight around the entire hospital. Instead he dug deep into his bag of tricks and pulled out a smile. Admittedly, since his breakup with Katie, and Dani’s diagnosis, he’d nearly forgotten how, but seeing Andrea’s immediate relieved reaction, her expression brightening and those lovely lips parting into a grin, he was glad he had. Plus he’d meant that smile and it felt pretty damn good.

Because she was the first lady to get him riled up in ages, and he liked how that jacked up his ticker. She’d made him feel nearly human again.

“Next Tuesday, then. Seven. It’s a date, Andrea.”

CHAPTER TWO

ANDREA TAPPED ON the white front door of the boxy mid-century modern home in the hills above Glendale. She was about to ring the bell when the door swung open. Admittedly nervous about facing the handsome Dr. Sam Marcus on his turf, she grinned tensely until she saw him with an adorable little boy balanced on his hip and wearing an eye patch, then she relaxed.

“Come in,” he said, seeming more hospitable than she would have imagined considering their first two encounters.

“Hi,” she said, stepping inside onto expensive-looking white tile in the narrow entryway. “This must be Dani.” She moved closer to the little boy, raised her brows and gave a closed-mouth smile. He buried his face in his father’s shoulder. Ack, too much.

“Bashful,” Sam mouthed.

She nodded and pretended to ignore the adorable little person after that, as Sam bypassed the living room and walked her into the more inviting family room. It was large, square, open and with excellent sources of natural light from tall windows nearly covering one entire wall of the boxy ‘50s architecture. As it was late April, the sun stuck around longer and longer, and though his house abutted mixed-tree-covered hills and stood on metal stilts at the front, the angle at this time of day was perfect for maximum light. A thick brown carpet made her want to kick off her shoes and walk barefoot. Not sure what to do next, she set her backpack and art box aka fishing-tackle box on the classic stone fireplace hearth, then glanced up at Sam. The previously upturned corners of his mouth had stretched into a genuine smile.

She’d given herself a stern talking-to the afternoon they’d made the appointment for letting herself send and pick up on some kind of natural attraction vibes arcing between them. The man was a father! Probably married. How many do-overs would she need with this guy?

Shifting her gaze from Sam, she secretly studied Dani so as not to send him into ostrich mode again. She was admittedly surprised that Dani wasn’t a mini-me of Sam. He looked Asian, Filipino maybe? Was he adopted? And Sam didn’t wear a wedding ring, which made her wonder if he might not be married, but she figured she’d find out soon enough once his wife or significant other made an appearance.

“That’s as good a place as any to set up,” he said, easing Dani down onto his own two feet. “I hope the lighting is good enough.”

“This should be perfect.”

Dani immediately ran toward his stack of toys.

“Um, should I wait for your wife?”

“I’m not married. I adopted Dani on my own.” Sam sat on the large wraparound couch and put his feet up on the circular ottoman at the center.

“That’s fantastic.” Don’t sound so enthusiastic! “The adoption part, I mean.” The only men she knew in Los Angeles who adopted kids on their own were gay. Dr. Marcus clearly didn’t fall into that category if she read that subtle humming interest between them right.

“I knew what you meant.” A kind gaze came winging her way, and she felt her anxiety over making a dumb remark take a step down.

“Does he speak English?”

“They spoke both English and Tagalog at the orphanage. He’s superbright and picks up more and more words every day.” Spoken like a proud papa.

She found the boy busy with a colorful toy TV controller, punching buttons and listening to sounds and jingles, and dropped to her knees. “So, Dani, may I look under your patch?”

The black-haired toddler, who was small for his age, kept his head down, staring at the gadget in his hand, as he let her gingerly remove the child-sized patch. She’d seen empty eye socket after empty eye socket in the four years since she’d started the apprenticeship, but this was her first toddler. Grandma had given her a pep talk that afternoon about how much she believed in Andrea’s talent and technical skills, and truth was she knew she’d caught on quickly to the long and tedious process of re-creating matching eyes for the eyeless. But this was a beautiful little kid, and her heart squeezed every time she looked at him, thinking this was way too early for anyone to need a prosthetic. But was there ever a good age?

She’d worn stretch slacks, so she sat cross-legged beside him in order to be at his level. “I need to make a little cast to fit your face, Dani. Will you let me do that?”

The boy looked at his father, who reassured him it was okay with a slow, deep nod.

“It won’t hurt, I promise, but it might feel strange and cold for a little while.” With adult patients it was so much easier to explain the process. She’d just have to wing it with Dani. “May I take some pictures of your eye, too?”

“Eye gone,” he said, slapping his palm over the left socket, as if she didn’t know.

“This eye.” She pointed to the right one.

“Okay.” She could hardly hear him.

“Thank you.” She blinked when he glanced up. “Do you ever play with clay?”

He nodded shyly.

“This stuff is kind of like clay. Want to watch?”

“Okay.”

“Here, you can touch it.”

He did but immediately pulled back his hand at the feel of the foreign, gooey substance.

Andrea worked quickly to make enough casting gel to press into the empty socket area, and when it was time, Sam held Dani’s head still while she gently pressed it into the completely healed cavity. “Cold?”

“Uh-huh.”

“But it doesn’t hurt, right?”

He shook his head and they smiled at each other. He understood she hadn’t lied. A sudden urge to cuddle the boy had her skimming her clean palm across his short-cropped hair instead. “How’d you get to be so sweet?”

“Don’t know.”

A surge of emotion made her eyes prickle. This precious guy had already lost an eye to cancer. How was that for a huge dose of reality to a toddler? She swallowed against the moisture gathering in her throat. “I bet you were born sweet.” Was this how it felt to flirt with a little kid?

The statement wasn’t the least bit funny, but Dani thought it was and he giggled, his remaining almond-shaped eye almost closing when he did. She hadn’t been around many children since way back when she used to babysit for movie money, but something about Dani made her want to kiss his chubby cheeks and touch the tip of his rounded nose with her pointer finger.

She wiped her hands clean and dug out her camera from the backpack. “May I take your picture?”

“Uh-huh.” He watched her as if mesmerized, but also maybe a little afraid to move with the cast in place and taking form.

“I have to get really close to your eye. Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

She leaned in toward his cute out-sticking ear and whispered, “I promise not to touch your eye, just take pictures.”

He sat perfectly still and stared at her camera as she focused and zoomed in and shot photo after photograph of his dark brown orb. Later she’d study that eye until she had it memorized, then, and only then, would she attempt the intricate painting of his iris. Making eyes was a long and tedious process that took anywhere between sixteen and occasionally up to eighty hours, even though there was a big push to go digital these days. Mistakes weren’t acceptable in Grandma’s world. Neither was digital technology. Andrea had learned early on to take the extra time and effort at the beginning to save hours of do-overs. And she loved that part of her job.

By the age of three she knew the human eye was just a hair smaller by one or two millimeters than it would eventually become, and that by the age of thirteen it would reach the full adult size. Danilo would probably need a new prosthesis at that time, if not before, but she planned to make this one to last a full decade. The boy deserved no less.

After four minutes the timer went off, alerting her that the silicone was set. Tomorrow, back in the O&A department, she’d duplicate it in wax and later reform it until it fit Dani perfectly, which would give her another excuse to see the adorable little guy. There’d be multiple reasons to see Dani, since he’d have a trial period of wearing a clear acrylic beneath his patch for fitting purposes for the next month while she re-created his iris.

“I’m all done. What do you think about that?” She gently eased out the silicone cast from his eye socket, brow line and upper cheek.

“Okay.”

“And it didn’t hurt, did it?”

He shook his head. She showed him what the cast looked like and he made a funny face, which made her laugh, then she carefully put the partial facial and eye-socket cast into a protective carrying case. Dani watched every move she made, as if she might be taking part of his face with her. She handed him a mirror to see she’d left all of him behind. He stoically studied himself, missing eye and all, which made her want to brighten him up.

Andrea raised her brows and pressed her lips together before talking. “Did you know I brought you a present?”

His other eye widened. “No.” So serious.

“I brought you my favorite stuffed frog.” She reached into her backpack and pulled out the bean-stuffed toy that used to sit on her computer monitor at work. She’d grabbed it on a whim just before she’d left tonight. “His name is Ribbit.”

Dani giggled again. “I like him.”

“Here. He’s yours. You earned him for being so good.” She offered him the toy, and he reached for it without hesitation.

“What do you say?” For the first time in the entire process Sam spoke up.

“Thank you.”

She couldn’t help herself and kissed his forehead. “You are welcome.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Can I make you some tea or coffee?”

“Tea sounds good. Thanks.” There was a strange expression in Sam’s eyes when theirs met, as if maybe he’d been touched by the interchange with her and Dani as much as she had.

Dani played happily with his frog as Andrea helped put the eye patch back on. “There. Now you look like a pirate.”

“I don’t like pirate.”

“When I make your new eye, you won’t need to wear the patch anymore.”

He touched the patch and tugged on it. “Okay.”

“Hey, is this your truck?” She crawled over to a pile of toys in the corner of the room. “May I play with it?” The boy quickly followed her and laughed when she made a vroom-vroom sound, pushing the red truck around the carpet, while waiting for Sam to make the tea.

Next they played building blocks, and Dani took great pleasure in letting her build her colorful tower, only to knock it down the instant she’d finished. She pretended to be upset, folding her arms and pouting, but the boy saw right through her. Mostly what they did was laugh, giggle, tease each other and horse around until Sam showed up with the tea.

“I hate to break up the play, Dani, but it’s time to get you ready for bed.”

Dani acted upset. He pushed out his lower lip and crossed his chubby arms just like Andrea had done a few moments before, but she knew it was all a show. He’d been rubbing his right eye when they’d played, like any little kid who was getting sleepy. When he thought she wasn’t looking, he’d even yawned.

“Oh, jammies,” Andrea said, to distract him from his pout. “I bet you’ve got really cool jammies.”

“My jammies have trucks,” he said, his sweet single-eyed gaze waiting for her reaction.

“Trucks! I think you already know how much I love trucks.”

She was positive she saw him puff out his chest. Sam offered his hand and Dani took it, looking happily up at his father. The moment went still in her mind like a photograph, as she admired the sweet boy with the loving new parent he’d had the good fortune to find. But before he left the room she called after him. “Dani, don’t forget your frog.”

He trotted back to take it and gave her one last smile before running off to his father’s waiting hand, then walking with him down the hall. Andrea sat on the plush carpet and sipped her fragrant chamomile tea, her heart aching for a precious little boy with one eye. The warm tea helped smooth out the lump in her throat, but there was no way she’d soon forget Dani.

A large framed black-and-white photograph on the opposite wall caught her attention. She carried her tea over to it and counted eight kids with a mother and father, all grinning, on someone’s front lawn. She studied the enlarged grainy family photo and determined that the boy third from the end might possibly be Sam Marcus. Or maybe he was second in? Come to think of it, there wasn’t a very strong family resemblance.

A tallish woman with a broad smile and clear-looking eyes stood next to a droopy-shouldered man with a soft, kind face. They both had dark hair. Two of the kids looked even less like the rest, a blonde girl and a gangly boy with a buzz cut, but somehow those two had earned the favored position of each standing under a draping arm of the mother. Maybe that was Sam under her right arm? Who knew? The date at the bottom of the blown-up picture read “1990.” That would make Dr. Marcus somewhere around thirty.

Andrea’s gaze wandered to another wall and a shiny silver frame with beautiful cursive penmanship on a weathered scroll inside. The title read “Legend of the Starfish” and the short allegory taught that though a person might not be able to save everyone, in this case starfish, they could at least help one at a time. She stood pondering the words, sipping her tea, wondering what this told her about Dr. Samuel Marcus, the single guy who’d adopted a little boy from the Philippines.

Ten minutes had passed. She’d put all of Dani’s toys back where they belonged and had almost finished her herbal tea when Sam returned. He wore comfortable jeans that still managed to hug his hips and thighs, and a white with black stripes polo shirt he hadn’t bothered to tuck in. It gave her a glimpse of his broader-than-she’d-expected chest and surprising biceps. He walked around in his socks, proving he was totally at home in his castle. His cell phone rang. He checked the caller and said, “Sorry, but I’ve got to take this. It’s my sister.” She nodded her approval.

“You’re up late,” he said, then walked around the room in brief yet very familiar conversation. She tried not to listen, though envying him having a sister to share things with.

His hair was less tidy tonight, and Andrea liked the effect, especially when a clump fell forward onto his forehead when he bent over to pick up an overlooked toy block. And the eyes that had practically drilled a hole into her the last time they’d met seemed smoky blue tonight without a trace of tension around them. She’d often heard the term “boyish good looks,” but never understood what that meant until now. How could that uptight man who’d barged into her department be the same guy standing in front of her? A man who’d adopted a little boy on his own and appeared to genuinely enjoy a conversation with his sister. A man like that had to have a good heart.

She took in a tiny breath as he ended the call and approached, her enjoying every step. So this was what an everyday hero looked like. Feeling nothing short of smitten, she let out a beyond-friendly smile.

Sam didn’t know why he’d choked up just before he’d put Dani to bed, but seeing Andrea with his son, and how effortlessly they’d gotten along, made him remember how much Katie had let him down. Evidently having her own kids would have been one thing, but it’d been too much for her to consider adopting someone else’s child. “You never know what you’ll get,” she’d said. “You could be adopting a million problems.” He’d argued that the same could be said for any child. Besides, he’d seen with his own eyes what wonders selfless understanding and generosity of love could work on most kids. His foster mother had been the queen of that, not only with her own children but with all the kids she’d brought into their home.

He wasn’t about to go down Katie’s road of disappointment and pain again, especially right now, not when the dramatic-looking, height-challenged blonde with big overly made-up brown eyes sat waiting for him. He smiled and she gave a flirtatious beam right back. He definitely liked that, even though he knew a smile like that could be dangerous.

“You’ve made quite an impression. Dani said to tell you good-night.”

“Great. He’s an awfully sweet kid.”

“Yeah, he has a gentle nature.” Now wasn’t the time to go all soft over the misfortune of his beautiful adopted son, and how sometimes it reminded him of his own situation as a child, so he focused on his tea. “My tea’s gone cold. Can I refill yours?” He scooped up his cup and took hers when she offered it to him, then headed for the kitchen. Surprisingly, she followed along in her bare feet. He liked it that she’d made herself at home.

He put their cups on the kitchen counter, and as he turned on the front burner to heat the teapot, he felt her expectant gaze. He glanced over his shoulder and found her still smiling at him, so he smiled back, letting her warmth pass through him. If they kept up this goofy grinning, things could get awkward.

“It’s really obvious you’re a good and loving father.”

“I don’t know how true that is, but he deserves no less.” He kept busy, opening and closing drawers and cabinets, but talked freely.

Something about her easygoing and encouraging style helped him open up. “You know my greatest fear is that Dani might lose his other eye. They say the odds are low with a single retinoblastoma, but having gone through this with him I guess I’m still afraid it could happen again. And the kid so doesn’t deserve any of this.” He bit back his frustration.

Andrea kept quiet, cuing him to keep talking, so he did. “No matter what happens, my goal is to make as normal a life as possible for Dani.”

“I can tell how much you care about him.” She folded her hands on the quartz surface, and he thought the counter was high for her stature. She’d need a little stool to wash dishes at this sink. The thought tickled him and made the corner of his mouth quirk, imagining her standing on a stool in his kitchen, washing plates. So domestic, so different than the artistic impression she gave. Where had that thought come from?

She couldn’t be more than five feet, but what a powerhouse. She’d probably never be caught dead washing dishes for a guy. He sensed she’d never let anyone take advantage of her. She sure as hell hadn’t let him that day. Thinking back to her stern father, he was sure she’d probably had to grow a steel spine to survive. Yeah, no way she’d be a happy dishwasher.

He poured them both more tea and they sat at the kitchen table, and because she was so easy to be around, and seemed so sympathetic toward Dani, he decided to really open up. “I’m afraid people will look at Dani and pity him, which, by the way, you absolutely didn’t do. Thanks for that.”

She dipped her head and blinked slowly, then took a sip of her tea, so serious. “I’ve had a lot of practice with our clientele.”

“I’m sure you have.” He sipped, but the tea was too hot, so he put the cup on the table. “I also worry that other kids will be curious about his fake eye and make him self-conscious.”

“I think all kids are self-conscious about something.”

A quick flash of him being around seven or eight and having to wear faded thrift-store shirts that didn’t fit to school, because that was all his mother could afford, reminded him firsthand about self-consciousness.

“The thing is, I don’t want him to slip into the mindset of feeling inferior. That could set the tone for the rest of his life. I’d hate for that to happen.” He’d been fighting those feelings his entire life, and he’d obviously said something to move Andrea, because she leaned forward and her hand cupped his forearm and tightened.

“I’m going to make the most perfect eye ever for him. The other kids won’t even notice.”

“Then it’ll be my job to teach him to be totally independent, not afraid to try things.” His crazy, lovable foster family came to mind. “Hell, if he takes after any of his new uncles, he’ll give me gray hair before my time.”

“I think your plan is perfect. Dani’s a lucky boy to have you as his father. By the way, is that your family in that big picture?”

He considered the Murphys his family, especially after he’d been taken away from his mother at ten and she’d officially given him up when he’d been twelve—which had hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced before and could never be matched until Katie had walked away— and they’d kept him until he’d been eighteen, then sent him off to college.

“Yep. The big clan, circa 1990. I was around ten in that one.”

“Ah, you were the middle brother. I thought I recognized you.” She laughed lightly, and he was glad she’d taken the time to look at his family picture, but didn’t feel like going into the complicated explanation of who they really were. He hardly knew her. He’d let her think what he let the rest of the world think—he’d come from a big, happy family.

“Yeah, try being in the middle of four daredevil brothers. Those guys were tough acts to follow. Probably why I went into medicine.” His professional choice had also been part of his determination to prove the positive impact fostering could have. It had been his way of giving something back. But she didn’t need to know that, either.

She smiled and he grinned back. He found his smiles coming more often and easier, spending time with her. It felt good.

“I can only imagine.” She went quiet.

They sat in silence for a while, him in deep thought about the responsibilities of being a single father, about how his parents had taught by example the importance of routine and stability in every kid’s life, and having no clue what Andrea was ruminating about. Soon the tea was gone and she stood.

“Time to go?” How could he blame her? He’d gone quiet after the topic of his family had come up, then had gotten all maudlin about his lack of parental skills. Great company. Who’d want to stick around for more of that?

“Yes. I want to get an early start on my project tomorrow.”

He stood now, too. “I’m really glad you’re doing it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re not nearly as bad as I originally thought.” They laughed together, and it lightened the shifting mood. He wanted that earlier ease back between them.

“Oh, yes, the impertinent ocularist strikes again,” she teased. “But I could have sworn you started it.”

“I was uptight. Give me a break.”

He could tell from the benign look on her face that she was indeed giving him a break, that she totally understood, especially now having met Dani, and he truly appreciated that.

They headed for the family room, where her tackle box and backpack had been left, Dani’s silicone cast safely tucked inside. “And I had no idea what you’d just been through.” With the backpack over one shoulder she faced him, an earnest expression softening her serious face. “Please forgive me for being rude to you that day.”

“I’ve already forgotten. Besides, after the way you and Dani became fast friends tonight, I kind of have to.”

That got another smile and a breath of a laugh out of her.

He walked her to the door and allowed one quick thought about how great she looked in those black slacks and the pale blue sweater hugging her curves. It was so much better than those faded scrubs and that frumpy white lab coat.

They said good-night, and he asked when he’d need to bring Dani in for reshaping of the wax mold she planned to make.

“I’ll be in touch,” she said, “as soon as possible, I promise.”

“Then I’ll take you at your word.”

They said their goodbyes. He closed the door and scratched his chin and let his mind wonder about the possibility of something more working out between him and the perky ocularist. That was a first since Katie, too, and a good thing. Wasn’t it about time to start dating again? For an instant he realized how single mothers must feel, wondering if a man wanted to get involved with a lady with kids. Was that how it worked the other way around? Would it matter to Andrea, as it had mattered to Katie, that he was an adoptive father?

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