“Can we talk, Milla?”

“Talk about what?” Her voice waffled, and she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

“About you and me.”

His gaze snagged hers, and even though sexual awareness nearly knocked her for a loop, getting involved with him wasn’t a good idea.

The problem was her mind had no trouble believing that, but her body wasn’t listening.

She turned, trying to break eye contact with the man who aroused everything but her common sense. “Nothing has changed.”

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Things had changed, big-time. Kyle just didn’t know it yet.

Dear Reader,

Well, if it’s true that March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb, you’re going to need some fabulous romantic reads to get you through the remaining cold winter nights. Might we suggest starting with a new miniseries by bestselling author Sherryl Woods? In Isn’t It Rich?, the first of three books in Ms. Wood’s new MILLION DOLLAR DESTINIES series, we meet Richard Carlton, one of three brothers given untold wealth from his aunt Destiny. But in pushing him toward beautiful—if klutzy—PR executive Melanie Hart, Aunt Destiny provides him with riches that even money can’t buy!

In Bluegrass Baby by Judy Duarte, the next installment in our MERLYN COUNTY MIDWIVES miniseries, a handsome but commitment-shy pediatrician shares a night of passion with a down-to-earth midwife. But what will he do when he learns there might be a baby on the way? Karen Rose Smith continues the LOGAN’S LEGACY miniseries with Take a Chance on Me, in which a sexy, single CEO finds the twin sister he never knew he had—and in the process is reunited with the only woman he ever loved. In Where You Least Expect It by Tori Carrington, a fugitive accused of a crime he didn’t commit decides to put down roots and dare to dream of the love, life and family he thought he’d never have. Arlene James wraps up her miniseries THE RICHEST GALS IN TEXAS with Tycoon Meets Texan! in which a handsome billionaire who can have any woman he wants sets his sights on a beautiful Texas heiress. She clearly doesn’t need his money, so whatever can she want with him? And when a police officer opens his door to a nine-months-pregnant stranger in the middle of a blizzard, he finds himself called on to provide both personal and professional services, in Detective Daddy by Jane Toombs.

So bundle up, and take heart—spring is coming! And so are six more sensational stories about love, life and family, coming next month from Silhouette Special Edition!

All the best,

Gail Chasan

Senior Editor

Bluegrass Baby
Judy Duarte

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To the special women who have loved and supported me since

birth, blessing my life in so many special ways. My aunts:

Mary Jane Coleman, Frances Houser, Beatrice Johnson,

Dottie Johnston, Mae Johnston, Loraine Shaw

Thank you, ladies, from the bottom of my heart!

JUDY DUARTE,

an avid reader who enjoys a happy ending, always wanted to write books of her own. One day, she decided to make that dream come true. Five years and six manuscripts later, she sold her first book to Silhouette Special Edition.

Her unpublished stories have won the Emily and the Orange Rose awards, and in 2001 she became a double Golden Heart finalist. Judy credits her success to Romance Writers of America and two wonderful critique partners, Sheri WhiteFeather and Crystal Green, both of whom write for Silhouette.

At times, when a stubborn hero and a headstrong heroine claim her undivided attention, she and her family are thankful for fast food, pizza delivery and video games. When she’s not at the keyboard or in a Walter Mitty–type world, she enjoys traveling, spending romantic evenings with her personal hero and playing board games with her kids.

Judy lives in Southern California and loves to hear from her readers. You may write to her at: P.O. Box 498, San Luis Rey, CA 92068-0498. You can also visit her Web site at: www.judyduarte.com.

Merlyn County Regional

Hospital Happenings

Congratulations to midwife Cecilia Mendoza on her engagement to our very own Bingham Enterprises executive Geoff Bingham! A combination bridal and baby shower for the happy couple is tentatively scheduled for late fall. Please see nurse Vanessa Harris for more details, or to volunteer for the decorating committee.

Detective Bryce Collins will be working alongside Dr. Mari Bingham on an investigation into procedures at the Foster Clinic. Please give the detective your full cooperation should he request information about the hospital. And please continue to report any strange behavior at the Foster Clinic or in the pharmacy department to Dr. Bingham or her receptionist.

Finally, a belated—but hearty—greeting to Dr. Kyle Bingham. Back in his hometown for a pediatrician residency, the handsome doctor has reformed his bad-boy ways in order to help the children of Merlyn County. Everyone—especially you single ladies—be sure to give him your warmest welcome!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

Milla Johnson pressed the cell phone closer to her ear and glanced around the hospital cafeteria, glad no one could hear her conversation with her mother.

“The Binghams will turn on you,” her mom said, “now that you’ve been named in that malpractice suit.”

Milla rolled her eyes. She had enough stress in her life without her mother creating an enemy force out of the town’s most prominent family.

“I worry about you,” her mom added.

“I’m worried, too.” Milla, a midwife for only a year, had been unfairly charged with malpractice, following the home birth of a baby girl. “That lawsuit could potentially end my career before it gets off the ground. And it could shut down the Foster Clinic’s unique home-birth program.”

“That’s what I mean about the Binghams turning on you.” When Milla didn’t respond, her mother asked, “Did you hear what I said?”

Actually, the words rang loud and clear, but listening to unwelcome advice was another story. Especially when the Bingham family wasn’t responsible for the lawsuit. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s a bit noisy in here.”

Milla stared at the plate of meat loaf in front of her, then shoved it aside. She’d thought the mashed potatoes might sit well. Now she wasn’t so sure. Her stomach had been a mess ever since learning of the malpractice suit, more so now that she’d talked to her mom.

“You watch your back, honey.”

“I’ll be careful.” Milla felt badly enough about being blamed for something that hadn’t been her fault and for the problems the lawsuit would cause the Bingham Foundation. She didn’t need a dose of maternal paranoia to complicate things.

Her mother had never made a secret of her distrust of the Binghams, but Milla was grateful to them. The family had done a lot for Merlyn County, and the Bingham Foundation had provided the grant that had paid for her midwifery education. True, she agreed to work for the clinic for the next five years to pay back the funds, but she loved her job and the professionals with whom she worked. She couldn’t imagine working at another clinic. Or worse, if the plaintiffs had their way, not working as a midwife ever again.

“Those people have brought nothing but heartache to our family.”

“By ‘those people,’” you mean Billy Bingham in particular. And the man has been dead for eight years, Mom.”

“Your aunt Connie died giving birth to one of Billy’s illegitimate babies.”

It was an age-old complaint and one Milla had grown tired of hearing. Her mother had never forgiven the man she blamed for her sister’s death, a man who died in a plane crash months before his youngest son’s birth.

Milla and her mother had raised the boy in their cramped, two-bedroom home since the day he was born. They both loved Dylan, in spite of his penchant for mischief. But oftentimes the money had been scarce, and even Milla had to admit life would have been easier on the Johnson household had Billy Bingham provided for Dylan the way he had for the other children he’d fathered without benefit of marriage.

Desperate to change the subject and to fast-forward the conversation she said, “I’m going to stop by the market on the way home. Do you need anything?”

“We’re out of milk.”

“Anything else?” While her mother recited a list, Milla glanced up and saw Dr. Kyle Bingham enter the busy cafeteria, and her heart skipped a beat.

The good-looking resident spotted her, too, and grinned, sending a jolt of awareness to jump-start her pulse. Kyle had turned her head on more than one occasion, and the attraction seemed to be mutual.

He headed toward her table.

“Listen, Mom, I’ve got to go. I’ll buy the groceries after I pick up Dylan from day camp. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Just remember what I said about the Binghams. Watch out.”

“I will,” Milla said, although the only thing she felt like watching was the blond Adonis coming her way. For some reason she didn’t even want to ponder, his smile had the power to make her heart rate go absolutely bonkers.

Tall, broad-shouldered and more handsome than a man had a right to be, Kyle Bingham had a flashy wardrobe, a promising medical career and no financial worries, even after attending Harvard Medical School. The guy could have more than his share of women—and probably had. So the fact that he found Milla even remotely attractive was flattering. Thrilling.

As he approached her table, she tried to come up with a reason why she didn’t need to get involved with him—anything other than her mother’s warning.

“This chair taken?” Dr. Adonis asked.

“No.” Milla shoved her phone back into her purse, setting it aside just as she had her mother’s warning. Even if she’d wanted to be mindful of the well-intentioned maternal advice by avoiding the Bingham family—which Milla didn’t—avoiding Kyle wasn’t the same thing.

Kyle was one of Billy’s illegitimate children. And from what Milla had heard, he didn’t have much to do with the other Binghams who’d been blessed with legitimacy.

Of course, watching herself around the man for other reasons might be wise. The young pediatrician was a bit cocky and on the arrogant side, although Milla could understand why. Kyle Bingham was a brilliant young doctor, and he knew it. She couldn’t fault him for having self-confidence.

Kyle took a seat across from her and cut right to the chase. “I want to testify on your behalf in that lawsuit.”

“You do?” Relief washed over her, and she had to struggle not to fall at his feet and gush her appreciation. As the attending physician on call when Joe and Darlene Canfield had rushed their sick newborn to the E.R. of Merlyn County Regional Hospital, Kyle would make an excellent witness.

“You and I both know that umbilical infections don’t happen at birth. That baby’s illness wasn’t caused by anything you did or failed to do.”

Milla knew it hadn’t been her fault. In spite of what the Canfields had said, she’d taken every precaution. She’d cut the cord textbook perfectly. And before she left the house, she’d told the new parents how to care for the umbilicus. She’d also advised them to bring the baby in for a postnatal exam, something they’d neglected to do.

“You have no idea how much I appreciate you saying that,” she said.

“The Canfields had bandaged the umbilicus, which first alerted me to the probable cause of the infection.”

Milla had told them to keep the umbilicus clean and dry. And she’d not only shown them how, she’d left them with printed instructions, although the lawsuit claimed she’d haphazardly cut the cord and left two new parents without any direction at all.

“After the baby stabilized, I took time to talk to Mrs. Canfield and question her. They hadn’t cleaned the umbilicus properly, and in addition, the disposable diapers she was using were entirely too large, which irritated the stump. At that time, they applied the bandage.”

“Which kept the umbilicus moist, instead of dry.”

Kyle nodded. “Mrs. Canfield was also having nursing difficulties.”

“Is she claiming that was my fault, too?” Milla asked. “I worked with her at length before leaving the house. The baby took right to the breast, and they didn’t seem to be having any trouble.”

“She didn’t blame that on you. But I don’t think she was comfortable breast-feeding, and I’m not sure how often she nursed the baby, which might have compromised the infant’s immune system.”

Milla blew out a sigh of relief, glad to have someone else realize she hadn’t been at fault.

“The Canfields claim the umbilicus was already infected before they bandaged it,” Kyle added, “which is probably the argument their attorney will use.”

“So, even with your testimony, this lawsuit may not be settled easily.”

“Who knows what will happen with the attorney involved. But the baby’s infection wasn’t your fault.”

“And you’ll testify to that?”

“Absolutely.”

In her heart, she knew she’d done everything right during that delivery. But it was important to know that Kyle had agreed to testify for that reason alone, and not because he ultimately meant to protect the Binghams, the foundation and the clinic.

“And what if you thought the infection had been my fault?” Milla asked.

He leaned forward, assessed her as though she’d accused him of moral ineptitude. “I’d have no qualms about testifying against you or the Foster Clinic if I thought that infection had been caused by professional negligence.”

For the first time since being served notice of the lawsuit, Milla began to breathe easier.

She had someone on her side.

And not just anyone.

Dr. Kyle Bingham.

“By the way,” he said. “I’ve got to get back to the E.R., but I wondered if you might like to have dinner with me tonight.”

Dinner? With the best-looking doctor in all of Merlyn County? Was it a professional meeting? Or was it more like a date? She couldn’t be sure, yet when his blue gaze caught hers, her heart fluttered and something powerful passed between them.

Her mother would throw a walleyed fit—if she found out. But what Sharon Johnson didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her. Milla might live under her mom’s roof, but not under her thumb. Their living arrangement had more to do with finances. And, more recently, Dylan’s well-being.

“Sure,” she told the handsome resident. “I’d like to have dinner with you.”

“I’ll pick you up around six, if you’ll give me your address.”

Uh-oh. That might not be a good idea. Milla wasn’t up for another defensive bout with her mother this evening—not at this point in what might or might not develop into a relationship. She’d need time to work on her mom, more time than she would have between now and six o’clock. “Why don’t I meet you at the restaurant?”

“All right, if you’re more comfortable doing it that way.” Kyle slid her a heart-stopping grin. “I’ll see you at Melinda’s. Around six.”

Milla merely nodded, afraid her voice would betray her nervousness.

And her excitement.

At five minutes to six Milla pulled into Melinda’s parking lot. The red brick building, once a firehouse, had been converted into a steak and seafood restaurant. Melinda’s might not be as fancy as some restaurants found in Lexington, but it boasted an extensive wine list and was the fanciest eatery Merlyn County had to offer.

She parked her car, a white Caprice Classic whose odometer had lapped once or twice and still showed considerable mileage. But rather than opening the door, she continued to sit behind the wheel. Nervous. Apprehensive. And far more expectant than she cared to admit.

She spotted Kyle’s black, late-model BMW parked close to the restaurant’s entrance.

Waiting for her.

Milla Johnson.

Could she be any more flattered? She’d never had a man like Kyle interested in her.

Or had she read him wrong? Maybe he had only asked her here to discuss the lawsuit.

She’d wanted to primp before coming, to try on several outfits and fuss with her hair and makeup. But she’d feared her mother would notice and ask questions Milla didn’t have time to answer, questions she’d have to skirt until she had time to set her mom straight about her personal life, about boundaries.

A quick glance in the mirror told Milla she looked all right. Not bad. But deep inside she wanted to look her best.

As she climbed from the driver’s seat and closed the car door, she heard a man’s voice.

“Why, look there, Darlene. That’s the woman who nearly killed our baby.”

Milla’s feet seemed to take root in the asphalt. She didn’t need to see the man’s face to know who it was. Joe Canfield, the father of the baby who’d been rushed into the E.R. burning with fever and its limp, little body racked with infection.

The baby girl she’d been accused of neglecting.

The baby Kyle Bingham had saved.

“Enjoy your night out on the town,” Canfield said, as he and his wife strolled down the sidewalk that ran along Main Street. “When we get done with you, you’ll be doing jail time.”

Trying desperately to heed her attorney’s advice and avoid any conversation—let alone a confrontation—with the plaintiffs, Milla strode toward the entrance of Melinda’s. Her chest tightened to the point of making breathing difficult.

She clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. Tears of frustration welled in her eyes. Why were they doing this to her? The baby’s infection hadn’t been her fault.

All she wanted to do was hightail it home and lock the door behind her. For a moment, she’d considered getting back in her car and using her cell phone to call Kyle and postpone their dinner.

But maybe she needed to meet with him, to see him. To let him tell her all over again that the Canfield baby’s life-threatening condition hadn’t been her fault.

She needed the reassurance. She also needed the distraction. And an evening out with a doctor whose smile could turn her inside out would certainly help her forget her troubles, if only for tonight.

So instead of bolting, she held her head high and continued into the restaurant.

“Ms. Johnson?” the hostess asked.

Milla fingered the narrow shoulder strap of her black purse. “Yes.”

“Dr. Bingham is waiting in the bar. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to his table.”

Milla made her way across the polished concrete floor to the lounge, where a massive, carved-oak bar lined the back wall and a vast display of framed black-and-white photographs decorated the brick of the inside walls.

Kyle stood when she reached his table. He flashed her a dazzling smile that sent her tummy topsy-turvy and her heart soaring. She nearly forgot the unpleasant run-in she’d had with the Canfields.

Nearly, but not quite.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked.

“White wine.” And plenty of it, her nerves shouted in echoed concert.

Kyle motioned for the waitress, and before long their drink order had been placed. “Our reservations are at six-thirty. I hope you don’t mind waiting.”

She managed a smile. “That’s fine.”

Trying to hide her nervousness, she turned to the brick wall and spotted the nearest photo. A small brass plaque said it was the first fire chief of Merlyn County dressed in a Santa Claus outfit and sitting at the wheel of a fire truck. She touched the wooden frame that had been bolted to the wall, then glanced at Kyle and caught him watching her.

He smiled. “I guess the proprietor wants to make sure tipsy, local history buffs can’t run off with any of the old photos.”

Before Milla could respond, the waitress brought a Merlot for him and a Chardonnay for her.

Kyle lifted his wineglass in a toast. “To the start of a friendship.”

A friendship? For the briefest moment, Milla wrestled with disappointment. A part of her, a very young and romantic side she’d almost forgotten about, had hoped for more.

But when her gaze snagged his and she spotted the vibrant sparkle in those baby blues, she realized he had more than friendship on his mind. And so did she. But with her inexperience, at least with guys like Kyle, she wasn’t sure how far she wanted things to go. Still, the idea of letting this night play out romantically intrigued her and sent a warm sense of anticipation coursing through her blood.

She took a sip of wine, then studied him over the rim. He was gorgeous. And charming. And no doubt, a bit of a playboy, the way his dad had been.

Was Kyle Bingham the kind of man she should avoid?

Or the kind of man every woman needed to experience at least once in her life?

Unwilling to give in to either wonder or indecision, she eyed him carefully, as though she knew exactly what they both wanted. Her hormones seemed to kick up a notch. And sexual curiosity appeared to be on the rampage.

What would it be like to touch him, to kiss him, to lose herself in the passion that blazed in his eyes?

She looked at him, as though he might explain the attraction that crackled between them like an electrical storm. But he just sat there, waiting.

Watching her.

Kyle found himself practically gawking at the young midwife who’d caught his eye on more than one occasion since he’d arrived in Merlyn County a few months ago.

Damn. Milla Johnson was one beautiful woman, although she didn’t seem to be aware of it. She’d dressed simply in a classic black dress. And she hadn’t done much to her chestnut-colored hair, other than brush it until it shined. The ends seemed to naturally curl under in a sophisticated style.

She was the kind of woman who stood out in a crowd. The kind of woman who made his libido sit up and beg.

He usually complimented the lady he was with as a means of breaking the ice and gaining an advantage. But tonight, the words came easy. “You look pretty, Milla.”

She flushed at his comment, then smiled, flashing him two dimples he could get used to seeing. “Thank you.”

The women Kyle usually dated were fully aware of their beauty, their sexuality. Milla, although just as lovely and attractive, wasn’t as sure of herself, which, for some reason, pleased him, making her all the more appealing.

She took a sip of wine, then ran her tongue across her bottom lip.

A surge of heat shot through Kyle’s bloodstream, arousing him, tempting him. She glanced again at the photos on the wall, completely oblivious, it seemed, of the effect she was having on him.

Kyle leaned back in his chair, unbalanced by his arousal and by the effect she had on him. The pretty midwife had stirred a powerful hunger, one that dinner at Melinda’s wouldn’t sate.

It was early yet, and there was no reason for him to believe the evening would end with anything more than a handshake. Which would be a shame. He couldn’t remember being this attracted to a woman in a long time.

She set her wineglass on the linen-covered table and looked at him. Her big brown eyes bore evidence of a trying day.

“What’s the matter?”

She fingered the cocktail napkin that rested under her wineglass, rolling the edge then unrolling it. “I almost didn’t come inside.”

“Are you sorry you’re here?” He hoped not. Milla had stirred something inside of him. And not just sexual attraction. There were other things going on, too. Admiration. Respect. Milla Johnson was a dedicated professional who had a genuine concern for her patients. And she had a depth to her that the other women he dated didn’t have.

“I ran into Joe Canfield outside.” Her voice softened, and she looked at him with Bambi eyes that made him want to tear into the guy who’d upset her.

“He wasn’t very nice,” she added.

Kyle reached across the table, taking Milla’s hand—a move that probably surprised them both. But he quickly recovered. “Don’t let that guy get to you. You didn’t do anything wrong, and the judge ought to be able to see through him.”

She nodded, but her vulnerability smacked him upside the heart, making him wish he could protect her from all the things that went bump in the night. His soft side didn’t surface very often, yet it struck with a vengeance tonight.

Before they finished their drinks, the hostess led them to a quiet booth in the dining room and handed them menus.

The waiter brought a basket of warm bread and placed it on the table. Kyle welcomed the interruption. And as he reached for the golden-brown loaf, Milla did the same. Their hands brushed, shocking him with a tingle of heat that lasted long after the brief contact. Neither of them commented, yet her silent gaze told Kyle she’d felt it, too.

They remained pensive for a while, engrossed in the entrées Melinda’s offered, Kyle supposed, although he was far more interested in getting through dinner and seeing what pleasures the rest of the evening might bring.

Milla set her menu to the side of her place setting and leaned slightly forward. “What made you decide to be a doctor?”

Her question took him aback, since most people asked why he’d chosen pediatrics, a specialty that surprised anyone who’d known him growing up.

Kyle had always been prone to mischief, a result of being one of Billy Bingham’s brats, he supposed. As a kid, he’d gotten a reputation for snaking his way out of trouble. But there didn’t seem to be any use going into that.

“When I was fifteen, a couple of buddies and I went on an overnight campout at a lake near the house where I grew up. We barbecued hamburgers for dinner.” Kyle studied the flickering candle that sat in the middle of the linen-draped table. He didn’t like to talk about that day, maybe because the memory still clawed at his chest and throat.

Milla leaned forward, listening. Casting some kind of healing balm on the pain he’d harbored and the utter helplessness he’d felt as he watched a strong, robust kid dwindle away, plagued by an unknown disease.

“My best friend, Jimmy Hoben, liked his meat rare,” Kyle continued.

She didn’t respond, but her eyes shared her compassion, her sympathy, her understanding.

“A few days later, Jimmy got sick. Really sick. And the doctors had a hell of a time figuring out what was wrong with him. Even after they realized his illness was caused by e-coli, the damage had been done. And in spite of everything they did, every medication and treatment they tried, Jimmy didn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“It was a tough thing for everyone, I guess. Especially a kid like me.” His voice bore the huskiness of emotion he’d tried to bury years ago. “I couldn’t figure out why modern medicine couldn’t heal my friend. Or others like him. In fact, I was so determined to get some answers, that I went to the library and hit the books, trying to learn everything I could about e-coli and the effect it had on the human body. That focus triggered a deep interest in medicine. And research.”

She nodded in understanding, but maybe that’s because she hadn’t known him growing up. Hadn’t known the hell-raiser he’d once been.

When he told his high school guidance counselor that he’d decided to go to medical school, the guy had been shocked. But in spite of the counselor’s disbelief, Kyle made a dramatic academic turnaround, which surprised the entire teaching staff, as well as all of his friends. Within one semester, his teachers and peers were amazed when the campus bad boy aced every class.

“I found my niche in human biology and anatomy,” he said.

“So you decided to be a doctor.”

“Sort of.” He shrugged, then slid her a crooked grin. “Actually, when my residency is done, I’m going into research.”

“Around here?” she asked.

“No. Back in Boston. I have no intention of staying in Merlyn County longer than the time it takes me to complete my residency.” He could have explained that his decision to stay here that long was a way of compromising with his mother, of making her happy until he moved on for good.

His playboy daddy had provided well for his illegitimate kids, particularly Kyle. And for that reason, Kyle had been able to attend Harvard medical school. His mom hoped that he would eventually make his home in Merlyn County and take up his rightful place with the Binghams.

But Kyle had no intention of elbowing into his father’s family.

“That’s too bad,” Milla said. “You’re a great pediatrician and have a lot to offer the community.”

He shrugged. “Maybe so. But I can do more good at a research hospital.”

“To study pediatric pathology?”

“Kids shouldn’t die before they get a chance to live.” Kyle didn’t usually open up like this, but for some reason it felt right sharing memories and dreams with Milla. Dinner was over before he knew it.

As the waiter took the last of their plates away, Kyle studied the woman across from him. The candlelight glistened off the strands of her hair, bathing her in a romantic glow. Tonight, more than ever, she had some kind of blood-pumping effect on him.

She declined coffee and dessert, which was fine with him. But he wasn’t ready for the evening to end, not even after he’d paid the bill and walked her out to where she’d parked her car.

His hands ached to reach out and pull her near. But he waited, biding his time until Milla gave him reason to believe she would welcome his touch. He wasn’t sure why, but this particular woman made him feel like an awkward adolescent with a bad haircut and a ketchup stain on his white T-shirt. And he hadn’t felt that way since he’d had sex for the first time. After that, his confidence level had skyrocketed.

Until this moment.

The summer night was silent, save for the sound of their shoes crunching on the pavement. And the parking lot, now nearly empty, reminded Kyle it was time to call it a day. To end the pleasant evening they’d shared.

Milla paused by the car door, and her eyes caught his. Something passed between them; although, for the life of him, he wasn’t sure what it was. If it hadn’t rocked his sex drive to the core, he might have been scared and looked for a reason to escape. As it was, he stood still, savoring the woman and the moment.

A full moon peered from a lone cloud in the evening sky, watching over them, it seemed.

Always relaxed and confident with women, Kyle wasn’t sure what had gotten into him. Maybe it was the moonlight dancing in a star-filled summer sky. And maybe it was the fact he hadn’t had sex since coming back to Merlyn County. Or maybe it was some kind of spell Milla Johnson had cast on him.

Either way, he couldn’t imagine letting her drive away without brushing his lips across hers. And as he did so, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close, allowing the kiss to deepen and their tongues to touch and taste.

She whimpered softly, and he was lost in a swirl of heat, a fire of desire.

A sense of urgency swept over him, and he pulled her close, felt her fingers snake through his hair. A jolt of heat damn near sent him over the edge, and he wanted more. Far more than he could have, standing out in the open, in a parking lot.

He wanted this woman. Tonight.

The strength of his desire should have scared him, should have caused him to turn tail and get his happy-to-be-a-bachelor butt out of Dodge.

Instead he savored her scent, her touch, and lost himself in one of the most arousing kisses he’d ever had.

Still, it didn’t take him long to realize this public display of raw, sexual hunger needed to be taken indoors. With great reluctance he broke the kiss long enough to whisper against the silky strands of her hair.

“Come home with me.”

Chapter Two

Come home with me.

As the words echoed through Milla’s core, her own physical need chimed in.

Kyle wanted her. And she wanted him, too. The strength of her arousal surprised her, as did the decision hovering in the sultry night air.

Her knees still wobbly from the sensual assault of Kyle’s mouth, she tried to catch her breath, to gain control of her runaway desire. But she wasn’t having any luck.

Kyle leaned against the side of her car. Had his knees nearly given out on him, too?

Their bodies no longer touched, but his gaze held her transfixed. “There’s something powerful going on between us.”

He had that right. The kiss they’d shared had been so hot, so unlike anything she’d ever experienced, that her ability to think or reason seemed to have disappeared. For good.

And right now she wasn’t so sure that was a bad thing. Her feelings were too strong, charged and close to the surface.

“You feel it, too,” he told her.

She nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“What are we going to do about it?”

As she saw it, they had two options. She could get in her car and drive away, knowing regret would follow her home. And this darn whatever-it-was would haunt her every time their paths crossed.

Or a second and more pleasing option—she could throw caution to the wind. Do something wild for a change. Experience something she might never experience again.

She could make love to Kyle Bingham, resident heartthrob of Merlyn County Regional Hospital. If his kiss could turn her inside out, what would their lovemaking be like?

They hadn’t closed the sexually charged gap between them, yet she could hear his heart pounding, feel his blood rushing through his veins. Or was that her own?

“Let’s take this inside,” he said. “Behind closed doors.”

Milla knew she should pull herself together and graciously decline. But the fact of the matter was she wanted more of Kyle’s kisses, more of his touch.

And she wanted it now.

He stepped toward her and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. His heated gaze drew her into the sexual depths of something she couldn’t resist.

“All right.” Her voice held a seductive edge she’d never noticed before. And when the words left her mouth, she didn’t regret them. Not at all.

He caught her cheek in his hand and brought his mouth to hers in a hot, breath-stealing kiss that spoke a promise—not of forever, but of fulfillment.

But that’s all she needed tonight.

Fulfillment.

To feel competent and capable, no longer shaken by the unfairness of the Canfields’ charges. To have her confidence restored in the arms of a doctor who made her heart soar and her blood race.

“Okay. Let’s go,” she said. “You lead the way.”

They each climbed into their cars, and she followed Kyle to the outskirts of town, where he turned down a quiet little street called Bluebonnet Lane. His black BMW pulled under a carport near the end unit of a sage-colored triplex flanked by duplexes on each side. She parked on the street.

Funny, she’d imagined him living somewhere else, someplace expensive and grand. Not that it mattered, of course.

He opened her door in a gentlemanly manner, then helped her from the car.

“I bought these units as an investment,” Kyle said, as he led her to the front door. “My mom lives in one side of the first duplex. She’s a proud lady and won’t let me help her out financially. So we reached a compromise. She watches out for the other units in exchange for rent. When I move back to Boston, she’ll oversee this one, too.”

When he let her inside the small home, she wasn’t sure what to expect. Something to match his GQ clothing and his flashy car, she supposed. Instead she found the living room had been decorated simply. A plain brown sofa. White walls. Miniblinds on the window overlooking the street. His place was clean and almost sterile.

The only thing that stood out was a big-screen television that seemed out of place.

“I’m not home often,” he said, as though reading her thoughts. “I couldn’t see any point in buying furniture or in putting anything on the walls. I’ve got all I need.”

She nodded, scanning the sparse, uncluttered room, unable to keep from wondering if he ever felt lonely in a place that seemed to be little more than four walls, a sofa and a theater-size TV.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, his voice low, almost quiet. “A glass of wine, maybe?”

The attraction between them remained hot, yet neither moved.

Was Kyle nervous, too? The dapper doctor who had every single midwife and nurse on staff at the clinic and the hospital giggling and whispering like girls with a crush on the new boy at school?

Maybe so.

The thought pleased her and made her feel feminine and powerful. The arousing effect only bolstered her confidence in the decision she’d made to follow him home.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled. “I don’t think either of us came here wanting more to drink.”

He tossed her a crooked grin, and all signs of nervousness fell away. “You’re right. I was just trying to be a good host.”

Feeling bolder than she’d ever felt before, Milla stepped closer, reached a hand to his cheek, brushed a thumb across his angular jaw and felt the tingle from the faint bristle of his beard. “Maybe one more kiss will make this easier for both of us.”

She’d barely lifted her lips to his when he took the lead, took her tongue and took her breath away.

Lordy, how that man could kiss.

Milla lost herself in the wet, velvety confines of Kyle’s mouth. And in the heat of his embrace, reality slipped away and magic took its place, releasing a display of mystical fireworks that lit her heart and soul.

Kyle wasn’t sure what it was about Milla that swept him away, but he wasn’t about to analyze it, not when he held her in his arms and felt her breasts splayed against his chest as she leaned into his demanding erection.

He’d never lost himself in a woman before, hadn’t ever expected to, but he seemed to be momentarily losing himself in Milla, in her kiss and the soft swirl of her springtime scent. He might be sorry later, but that’s when he would think about it.

Later. After he’d buried himself in her softness, lost himself in the passion that plagued them both. There was a heat in Milla’s touch, a fire in her kiss. And he couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

She tugged at his shirt, pulling it from the waistband of his slacks, and then grabbed at his belt, freeing him. Freeing them both.

All the while, her mouth held his in sweet surrender. Her fingers blazed a trail along his skin, singeing his nerve endings.

He reached for the zipper of her dress, unleashing the black cotton, and he slipped the garment off her shoulders. He wanted to feel her skin on his, breasts to chest. And he doubted they could remove their clothes fast enough.

But Kyle wasn’t about to take Milla on the living room floor, not this time, anyway. With reluctance, he broke the kiss and took her hand. “Come with me.” Then he led her down the hall and into the bedroom.

She stood before him by the king-size bed. Her dress had fallen to the waist, revealing a satiny black bra over hardened and responsive nipples. A sexual flush blazed across her throat and chest, announcing a desire every bit as strong as his.

He cupped her face, brushed a thumb across the silky texture of her cheek and saw the glaze of passion in those pretty brown eyes. “You’re a beautiful woman, Milla.”

She blushed, and again he was taken by her lack of pretense. Couldn’t she see what he saw?

“I want to make this special for you.” And damn it, he did. There was something virginal about her, something sweet and innocent. But she didn’t kiss him like a virgin or touch him like one.

She pushed her dress over her hips, then stepped out of the garment and stood before him in skimpy black undergarments. He watched as she unhooked her bra and freed two perfect breasts. His breath caught, and his testosterone raged.

What was it about this woman that made her seem so different from the others?

“Make love to me, Kyle.” Then she unbuttoned his shirt and pressed herself to him, stoking a blaze deep within him.

He tore himself from her embrace, just long enough to dig through the nightstand drawer for a condom. His efforts were thwarted by haste and desire, as he fumbled with the foil packet and tried to protect them both.

When he joined her on the bed, their hungry kiss resumed and tongues mated in a lover’s frenzy. Caught up in a fire that might never burn out, Kyle realized his only hope for relief was to bury himself in her.

As he entered, she arched up to meet him, and he was lost. Lost in lust and passion.

Kyle had wanted their first time together to be special, but all he could think about was how good it felt to be inside of her, to have her meet each of his thrusts, to be shaken to the core by a powerful climax that made her cry out in pleasure and damn near turned him inside out.

He’d wanted to love her with a slow hand, taking the time to make tonight memorable for them both, since a continuing relationship wasn’t wise and certainly wasn’t in his game plan. But his fiery passion burned out of control.

When he’d had a chance to catch his breath and grow hard again, he would take it slow and easy, making sure the rest of the night was every bit as good as it could be.

But for the time being, he would hold her until the last wave of pleasure ebbed.

Milla glanced at the clock on the wall—3:00 a.m. The scent of lovemaking filled the air, and her naked body still hummed from the last sweet joining, just an hour before.

Kyle held her close, one of his arms tucked under her waist and the other draped across her breasts. His gentle breathing told her he was asleep, contented and sated.

But she wasn’t.

Well, she was definitely sated. Their lovemaking had been great—mindless and hot, but fulfilling.

She’d found much-needed comfort, as well as pleasure, in Kyle’s arms. But after the loving, when her conscience had a chance to sneak in and shake a finger at her, contentment slipped by the wayside.

Making love to Kyle had seemed right, but in the wee hours of the morning, after the waves of the last powerful climax had ceased, her good sense returned.

Her conscience, which had deserted her earlier in the evening, surfaced with a vengeance. Yes, she’d willingly followed Kyle home. And she’d enjoyed the best lovemaking she’d ever known. Not that she had anything to compare it to—one boyfriend in college who’d been a mistake from the get go.

She’d wanted to make love to Kyle, and he hadn’t disappointed her. He was a great lover, considerate and gifted in the fine art of seduction and pleasure. Of course, that was probably because he’d had so much practice.

But Milla hadn’t been thinking clearly. Her head had been in a romantic cloud and her hormones had taken over.

While in Melinda’s parking lot, making out like a couple of teenagers, she hadn’t given a hoot about what her mother might say. But now, after the loving, she realized her mother would never understand Milla having a relationship of any kind with Kyle.

Not that Milla hadn’t crossed her mom on other occasions and weathered the storm. Truthfully, Milla dating a Bingham would be a big thorn in her mother’s backside, but their mother-daughter relationship wouldn’t suffer any serious consequences.

More troublesome than her mother’s disapproval was that Milla had become intimately involved with a co-worker. What if word of their…indiscretion leaked out?

That problem, she supposed, could also be dealt with.

But the next accusation her conscience hurled at her struck hard, knocking the wind out of her like a tumble from a tree and a belly flop on the lawn.

What if the Canfields learned that Milla and the pediatrician who would testify in her defense were sleeping together?

Things were certain to get uglier than they already were.

Sure, Milla and Kyle both knew the Canfields didn’t have a case. But malpractice suits didn’t have to be based on medical logic. The Canfields could sue—and win—without having any concrete medical evidence. If taken to court, the publicity alone would hurt the Janice Foster Clinic, as well as Milla’s reputation. And the case would also result in higher malpractice insurance premiums for her and the clinic.

No, the problems the malpractice suit could bring hadn’t disappeared. And, in fact, they had probably been compounded by her decision to make love to the doctor who would testify on her behalf.

Kyle slept soundly, obviously having no qualms about their night of passion.

But Milla had plenty of reservations. And regrets. No matter how good it had been.

Carefully slipping away from his embrace, she quietly dressed and tiptoed from his room. She grabbed her purse and heels from the living room, not taking time to slip on her shoes, and stole out of the house.

A small, adolescent voice inside called out, Hey! What about Kyle? What about what we just shared?

But Milla needed to face the truth. There couldn’t be anything between her and Kyle. Not now.

What if he calls? the young voice cried. What will you tell him?

The voice of reason stepped in to answer. Kyle is probably a player, just like his dad—a guy who loved whatever lady he was with.

If Kyle called her—which wasn’t likely, given his playboy daddy’s blood—she’d tell him their…intimacy had been a mistake.

Milla Johnson had enough to worry about without the complications a relationship with Kyle Bingham would bring.

Chapter Three

Milla arrived home while the stars still glittered in the morning sky.

Once inside the small, darkened bedroom she shared with her mother, she moved quietly, but only as a courtesy—not out of fear of discovery. Milla had never had any trouble standing up to her mom when they’d had confrontations. But she was much too tired to stir things up now.

“Is that you, honey?” her mom asked, voice heavy with sleep.

“Yes, it’s me. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“It’s all right. Those babies never choose a convenient time to be born, do they?”

Milla bit her lip and held back a response. As a midwife, she’d spent many nights at the bedside of a laboring woman, providing obstetrical skill and support. It was a job she loved, a career in which she thrived despite its demands on her time.

It was natural for Sharon Johnson to assume her daughter had been working.

Milla had always been honest, even if that honesty ruffled a few maternal feathers, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak or to respond one way or the other.

She looked at her mother’s blanketed form and watched as her mom tugged at the covers, rolled over, faced the wall and blocked out the nocturnal intrusion, intending to go back to sleep. The woman was completely and blissfully unaware that her daughter had spent most of the night locked in Kyle Bingham’s arms.

Milla hadn’t lied—exactly. Of course, God probably kept a count of those pesky omissions, but she was too tired to think about that now. Too tired to feel guilty.

Well, too tired to feel guilty about anything other than making love to a man her mother wouldn’t approve of. An experienced lover who’d taken her to the heights of sexual pleasure, again and again, coaxing multiple orgasms with ease.

Milla blew out a weary sigh and drew back the comforter that covered her twin bed. Then she climbed between the freshly laundered sheets, hoping to get an hour or two of sleep before dawn. But it was a hope that didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.

An overactive mind kept her awake, taunting her with heated memories of a passion-filled night in the competent hands of an Adonis, a man she never should have kissed, let alone…

Had she clawed his back? Cried out in orgasmic release?

Yes, she had.

Kyle had brought out something wild and wicked in a usually levelheaded Milla. It both pleased and disturbed her.

At sunrise Milla gave up the struggle for rest. She showered, then started her workday sleep deprived—something she never did.

Even when she’d stayed up all night with a woman in labor, there was a sweet rush that came with delivering a baby into loving arms. A pleasant release of adrenaline that kept Milla going, awake and alert, ready to start the day.

But this was different. There was no adrenaline rush, no sense of self-satisfaction.

And Milla wasn’t at all ready to face Kyle again.

Going through the motions at work, Milla wondered whether her shift at the clinic would ever end. All she wanted to do was go home, climb back into bed and crash.

Just before noon, while Milla checked her list of afternoon appointments, Crystal Hendrix, a nurse at the clinic, handed her a note. “Dr. Bingham called while you were with Mrs. Thompson. He’s in the E.R. at the hospital and would like you to give him a call.”

“Thanks.” Milla hoped Crystal hadn’t noticed her hands shake when she took the note. She glanced at it briefly, then shoved the paper into the pocket of her white coat.

Milla wasn’t ready to speak to Kyle. What was she supposed to say? “Thanks for the great sex?”

Most women would be dying for another date, a repeat performance. But not Milla. And her reasons were legion, as were the vast array of emotions she’d grown tired of contemplating.

Maybe she’d just state the simple truth.

Dr. Kyle Bingham and Milla Johnson shouldn’t have become involved. For professional reasons.

Yes, that’s what she would tell him. When she returned his call, of course.

But that wouldn’t happen today. Not when her mind was rheumy and her body tired.

Milla glanced at her wristwatch, then back at her list of patients. Maybe she could cut out early today, after seeing Sue Ellen Henderson at three o’clock. Then she could zip over to the school, pick up Dylan and head home.

She would call Kyle tomorrow.

Or maybe the day after that.

Milla pulled her car into the parking lot at Daniel Boone Elementary, where the school district sponsored a summer program for kids. The gray brick building with dirty white trim sat before her like a ghost town. It was summer and the kids were all out on the playground or in one of the four white trailers that served as temporary classrooms. She wondered if the school district planned to paint and repair the building before fall.

She hoped so. A bright and clean learning environment would benefit all the kids, not just Dylan, who struggled academically. Her eight-year-old cousin was bright and sweet, but for some reason he couldn’t seem to stay focused and on track. Neither could he stay out of trouble.

Milla had asked his pediatrician about an organic cause to Dylan’s behavior and had been assured there wasn’t one.

Dylan was as cute and sweet as a kid could be, with blond hair, an unruly cowlick, big blue eyes and a splatter of freckles across his nose. And he was affectionate, too. But he just seemed to gravitate toward mischief.

Since the car accident that left her mother with chronic back and neck pain three years ago, most of Dylan’s care had landed on Milla’s shoulders, but she didn’t mind. She’d fallen in love with that little boy when he was just a scrawny, seven-pound, red-faced infant who’d been placed in her arms. And from that day on, the two of them had developed a closeness, a special bond. But even Milla couldn’t seem to help Dylan stay out of trouble.

As she reached the playground, she spotted Mr. Rick at the sign-out table, talking to a little boy Milla didn’t recognize. She’d always thought Rick was the man’s first name and the mister was a way of affording him more respect. But just the other day, she’d learned that Rick was a shortened form of Rickentaffer or Rickelstoffer or something like that.

As she approached the table, the tall, gangly man stood, and the serious look on his face spoke volumes. He didn’t have to tell her that there’d been trouble again today.

“Dylan is in the rest room,” Mr. Rick said. “He’s got a bloody nose, and Mr. Gordon is cleaning him.”

“What happened?”

“He and another boy were fighting behind the handball courts. They’ve been given a time out. If that doesn’t work, we’re going to ask them both to stay home for a few days.” Mr. Rick took a deep breath and sighed. “Dylan’s not a bad kid.”

Milla knew that. But trouble seemed to follow him like a swirling, funnel-shaped cloud of dust. And when it caught up with him, Dylan couldn’t seem to stay out of the way.

“He fought with Kirk Brower,” the young man added, as though that explained it all.

Several times this summer, Kirk, a heavyset, redheaded kid with a reputation for being a bully, had taunted Dylan about being one of Billy’s brats.

Like Dylan, the other third-grader hadn’t known Billy Bingham and couldn’t possibly have been aware of the man’s reputation. The only logical explanation was that he’d overheard an adult comment. And Milla found that idea irritating. If she knew who to confront or how to quiet the gossip, she would have taken action. As it was, she could only hope that the whole thing would die a quick and easy death and that Dylan could ignore the comments until it did.

“Here he comes now,” Mr. Rick said, nodding toward the rest room.

The two boys, Dylan and Kirk, came out of the bathroom with Mr. Gordon. When Dylan spotted her, he dropped his eyes and kicked the toe of his worn tennis shoe at the dirt, then continued to trudge toward her, head hung as though making his way down the long green mile.

Dylan’s cheeks were red from exertion—or maybe remorse. His face, still damp from being bathed with a paper towel, bore dirt streaks near the hairline and over his brow. Blood splatters stained a torn white T-shirt. When he looked up at her, his blue eyes grew watery, but he blinked rapidly, as though trying to keep his feelings a secret.

Milla glanced at Kirk, who wore a smirk on his pudgy face. Like a big sister, she wanted to throttle the bully herself, but she took on the role of parent instead. “We’ll talk about this in the car, Dylan.”

Then she led the boy away, wishing she’d arrived sooner, before the scuffle that had bloodied his nose, before the cruel words had been spoken.

She doubted Dylan was the only one of Billy Bingham’s illegitimate children to suffer taunts growing up, but it hurt her to see her young cousin teased for something that wasn’t his fault. She ran a hand along the blond strands of his hair, felt the dirt and sand he’d accumulated during the day, probably during the fight.

“I’m sorry for getting in trouble again,” he said. “But Kirk the Jerk is the stupidest kid in the whole school. In the whole world.”

To say the least, Milla thought. “I hate to tell you this, but the world is full of Kirk the Jerks. And you can’t fight them all. You’re going to have to learn to hold your temper and ignore the cruel words.”

The childhood ditty came to mind. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

She didn’t mention it to Dylan. Because she knew it wasn’t true. Some words could do a lot of damage to a small boy’s self-esteem.

“I know it hurts when kids tease,” she added.

“He said I was a nobody. That I didn’t have a real family because I don’t have a mom or a dad.” The boy’s pain hung in the air, belying the next words he spoke. “But who needs a mom or a dad?”

A kid needed both. Milla knew that from her own experience. She’d only been ten when her dad left. She could still hear the slamming of the screen door. Could still remember running after him, hanging on to the door handle of his pickup truck, begging him to stay. “Daddy, wait!”

“I can’t take it anymore,” he’d told her, before pushing her aside. Then he’d rolled up the window and revved the engine. And when she stood back, he’d driven down the graveled drive. Out of town. Out of her life forever.

She’d never learned what it was that he couldn’t take. Marriage to her mom? Responsibility? Milla had asked her mother, but the woman had refused to discuss it.

As a child, Milla had wondered what she’d done wrong, what she could have done to make her daddy stay. As a grown-up, she knew better than to blame herself for a choice her father had made. But every now and then, if she allowed herself to dwell on it, she still felt the pain of abandonment.

She slipped an arm around the boy, her heart going out to him. Even though neither Aunt Connie nor Billy had abandoned Dylan on purpose, the child was left without either parent.

Sure he had a loving guardian, but her mother’s chronic back and neck pain didn’t allow her to play catch or take him camping.

“I know I’m just your cousin,” Milla said. “But if you want me to be your mom, it’s okay with me.”

“It is?” he asked, glancing at her with seeking eyes and a quivering lip.

“Sure.” Milla stopped walking and turned to face the boy, cupping his cheeks with her hands. She kissed his sweaty, dirt-streaked brow, then pulled him close, savoring the kid-size strength of his hug. “I’ve always wanted a son like you.”

“You have?” he asked, voice incredulous. “I’d like you to be my mom, Milla. That would be way cool.”

A tear dripped down her cheek, but she didn’t see the need to brush it away or hide it.

There wasn’t much she could do to change the reality Dylan lived with each day. But in her own way she could make a difference. She could take a more active parental-type role with him, create the kind of family she’d never had but always wanted.

The kind of family Dylan needed.

Minus a dad, of course.

A concise excerpt of the words Dylan had spoken only moments before came to mind.

Who needed a dad?

Not Milla. And not Dylan. Men like their fathers were often more trouble than they were worth.

She’d be selective when it came time to choose a husband. For some reason a certain blond doctor came to mind. A man whose smile warmed her soul, whose touch heated her blood. They’d had something special that night, something fulfilling.

But Milla quickly shoved the sexual memory aside. Wants and needs were two different things. She might want to spend another night in Kyle Bingham’s arms, but she needed to have a working relationship with him. And she needed him to testify on her behalf.

Yet a little voice spoke in the stillness, reminding her there was one more reason to stay away from a man like Kyle, a very important reason.

Milla didn’t need anyone with the power to turn her life on end.

Or to walk away when he grew tired of her.

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