The Miracle Twins

“Why are you here, Lucy?” Nick asked quietly

“I need help.”

The words were offered so grudgingly that he might have smiled if she’d been anyone else.

“From me?” he blurted out in disbelief. A short bark of laughter escaped before he could stop it. “As I recall, we didn’t exactly part on good terms. Let’s see, you told me you were choosing your job over me, then you ran for the exit.”

A flush spread up her neck and over her cheeks. “What happened in the past is hardly relevant.”

“It seemed damned relevant to me at the time,” he countered.

“You’ve got to hear me out,” Lucy said urgently. “Please.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a photograph.

It took a moment for Nick to absorb what he was seeing. The photo was of two children placed close enough together that their bodies touched and appeared to be entwined. No, not entwined.

Conjoined.

Bit by bit, the significance of Lucy’s visit began to sink in. Nick knew instinctively that she hadn’t come to him merely for advice. She wanted more than that. Much more.

Dear Reader,

The premise for The Miracle Twins came to me while I spent a week in the intermediate care nursery at a local hospital with my first daughter. I was so impressed by the many doctors and nurses who had dedicated their careers to the welfare of children. Even more touching were the doting parents who spent countless hours rocking these tiny infants or keeping watch over high-tech isolettes until the day they were allowed to bring their children home.

I hope you enjoy The Miracle Twins. My readers have been a source of so much joy to me. I want to thank you for all the support you’ve sent my way.

All best,

Lisa Bingham

The Miracle Twins

Lisa Bingham

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my own miracle children and the three incredible birth mothers who gave them life.

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

Epilogue

Chapter One

As she settled into a taxi and left the Salt Lake City International Airport behind her, Lucy Devon decided that she didn’t appreciate life’s little ironies. No matter how hard she tried to make thoughtful, well-planned decisions, her mistakes had a way of coming back to haunt her. “Never say never,” her mother had been fond of quoting. “God is always listening.”

“Too true, Mom,” Lucy whispered under her breath as the cab began to climb upward toward the eastern bench of the Wasatch Mountains.

From this vantage point, she had a beautiful view of the city. As dusk fell, lights began to twinkle like gold dust in the gathering gloom. If she tried hard enough, Lucy was sure she could find the tall, copper-colored building where she’d completed her journalism internship as a graduate student at the University of Utah. The university was where she and Nick Hammond had first met and fallen in love. And it was over there, a few more blocks to the east, that she’d decided marrying him would ruin all chances of furthering her career.

Dear God, had she really gone to the courthouse just before their wedding to tell him she was rejecting him in favor of “the story of a lifetime”?

Even now, the thought of those few tempestuous minutes could make her squirm in embarrassment and shame. Try as she might, she hadn’t been able to wipe away the memory of the expressions that had come over his face one after the other: disbelief, disgust and then anger. After making her escape, Lucy had sworn that, as long as she lived, she would never see Nick again. She wouldn’t go even a hundred miles near the place Nick lived and worked.

“But God has other plans,” she breathed.

“Did you say something, miss?” the cabdriver asked, glancing over his shoulder.

Lucy grimaced. “No. Just talking to myself.”

The man chose to let the comment pass. “You got family you’re visiting here in town?”

She made a noncommittal noise.

“That’s nice,” the driver said absently, his attention on the road.

Nice wasn’t exactly the word Lucy would have used to explain her current predicament. She would’ve done anything to avoid the upcoming meeting.

The cabdriver pointed to a house on the corner. “That’s the address up there.”

The taxi pulled to a stop at the curb, and Lucy peered through the window. Lights blazed from the house and the distant thump of music could be heard over the running engine.

The driver ducked to see the brass numbers bolted to the cottage-style rock home perched on a slight knoll. “Yep. This is it.”

“How much do I owe you?” Lucy asked, opening her purse.

“Eleven-fifty.”

She gave him fifteen dollars with a murmured, “Keep the change.” Then, opening the door, she ignored her twisting stomach and stepped onto the verdant strip of grass that bordered the curb. After a moment’s pause, the taxi rolled away, then disappeared entirely behind a bend in the road.

Instantly, Lucy felt oh, so alone.

A soft breeze caressed her cheek, the cool, moist air a harbinger of spring. As she walked up the terraced path, Lucy noticed that the trees were still skeletal. But the fuzzy tips of a pussy willow near the front stoop gave ample testimony that winter was losing its grip. Lucy had always loved spring. In her mind, it was a time for new beginnings.

So why was she about to dredge up the past?

Making a face, Lucy knew she’d had little choice. Nick Hammond was a spectacular surgeon, and right now she needed his skills.

What will he think when he sees me on his doorstep? Will he smile?

“More likely, he’ll kick you off the premises,” she told herself. Then, knowing there was no point in avoiding the inevitable, she started up the steps.

So much had happened to bring her to this point—and so much rested on the next few minutes. There was no plan B. If Nick refused to help her, she didn’t know what she’d do.

He had to help her. Nick had never been a petty man. He wouldn’t send her away without hearing her out.

At least…she hoped he wouldn’t send her away.

As she lifted her hand to ring the bell, Lucy prayed she could keep her wits about her for just a little longer. Her temples throbbed from a killer case of jet lag. Worse yet, she was trapped in a time warp; her mind moved sluggishly and her motor skills were only slightly better.

Don’t think about that now. Think about the children and only the children.

Straightening her shoulders in renewed determination she passed a hand over her short hair, and pressed the doorbell. From deep within the house, she could hear the sound reverberating.

As she waited for the door to be answered, Lucy recited the same litany she’d repeated a thousand times since leaving Africa. Nick is a reasonable man. A professional. Once you’ve explained your predicament, he’s bound to help you. He would never let the past interfere.

Or would he?

They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. Nick had felt humiliated, while Lucy—

When Lucy had turned to walk away from Nick, the judge and the witnesses, Lucy had seen the main door like a trapped animal who’d spied a hole in the fence. The moment she was out of sight of the wedding party, she’d started to run.

And she’d been running from the memory ever since.

No. She wouldn’t think about that now. The past was past, and the decision she’d made to cancel her wedding had been the right one. Lucy wasn’t the “marrying kind”—and she’d proven that to herself time and time again. She grew jittery and uncomfortable if she stayed in one place too long. The pressures of her job, the travel and risk involved, didn’t lend themselves to even the most casual of relationships, let alone marriage.

Wrenching her thoughts back to the matter at hand, Lucy scowled. Lights blazed from most of the windows. Yet several minutes had gone by and no one had appeared.

Ringing the doorbell again, Lucy cursed the fact that she hadn’t asked the cabdriver to wait. With her luck, she’d come all this way only to be marooned until Nick returned from some emergency at the hospital. True, she had her cell phone, but after gathering enough courage to face Nick tonight, she didn’t plan on leaving until she’d seen him.

Irritated, Lucy pressed the doorbell a third time, keeping her finger on the button for several seconds. Then she punctuated her imperious summons by banging the brass door knocker.

“Where is he?” she muttered.

Abruptly she froze, knowing that any minute the door would open and she would be face-to-face with Nick Hammond, the only man who’d ever made her knees quake.

What would be her reaction after all these years? Would she still feel an instant tug of attraction?

No. It wasn’t possible. Too much time had passed. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been then. Her experiences had hardened her. She couldn’t possibly—

The door flew open and Lucy’s heart stopped in her chest, then began a slow, sluggish beat.

This was the man she’d refused to marry?

A hot tide seeped into her cheeks and she was infused with embarrassment. She’d obviously interrupted Nick in the middle of a shower. He stood before her wearing nothing but a robe, his hair dark and spiky with moisture. Water dappled his bare skin, stray droplets streaking his chest.

A bolt of heat shot through her body and settled low in her abdomen. She swallowed against the dryness gathering in her throat, knowing that if she tried to talk, her voice would emerge as a croak.

“Lucy?”

Her name was a mere breath of sound, but it brushed her senses like a caress.

Talk to him, idiot. Say something. You can’t stand here gaping at the man.

“Nick.” His name was garbled and barely audible, and she cleared her throat. “Hello.”

To his credit, Nick kept his composure. In fact, other than the slight tightening of his fingers around his belt, he appeared completely unaffected by her sudden arrival. His features smoothed into an expressionless mask and his eyes became hooded, giving nothing away.

Why didn’t he say something? Why did he keep looking at her as if she had suddenly appeared from an alien planet?

Lucy thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket, shivering in the cool spring air. But it wasn’t the chill of spring that caused her skin to tingle. As his gaze slipped down her body, gooseflesh pebbled her skin. Lucy tried to meet his inspection with one of her own, but as she absorbed the sight of his nearly naked body, she knew she would be a fool to continue. Her mind might insist that she was over her college infatuation, but her body had a different idea.

Fastening her eyes on the faint cleft in his chin, she refused to look down. She was only concerned with his mind and his hands, the main tools of a surgeon.

Liar.

When the silence grew even more uncomfortable, Lucy said, “Are you going to let me in?”

Nick’s gaze intensified—as if he was trying to divine the reason for her sudden appearance. But finally he stepped back, making a sweeping gesture with his arm.

“Be my guest.”

Lucy brushed past him into a narrow entry hall. As she did so, she was inundated with the scents of shampoo and soap.

Not for the first time, Lucy rued the fact that she’d been forced to come to Nick for help. She’d investigated several other surgeons. But whenever she’d reviewed her list, she’d known that Nick was her only real choice.

So she’d taken a flight to Salt Lake City, insisting to herself that the past didn’t have any bearing on her current mission. She’d eventually begun to believe that she could deal with Nick in a manner that was both friendly and detached.

But now she wasn’t so sure.

You’re tired, that’s all. Weariness can do funny things to a person.

“Take a seat in the living room.”

He pointed at a small space to her right. White walls and a minimum of furniture offered a slightly neglected appearance—as if Nick spent as little time in his home as she did in her apartment in Chicago. It was a bachelor’s domain, dominated by a huge sound-and-television system, a battered recliner and a table piled high with medical journals. There were no telltale signs of a woman—no bric-a-brac, no photographs, no hint of lace or flowers.

Lucy couldn’t deny that his single status—if she’d guessed correctly—would make matters easier. She was about to infringe on Nick’s time in a completely overbearing way, and she didn’t need a jealous wife impatiently tapping her toe in the background.

Stepping into the sunken living room, Lucy turned to face Nick. Since he’d remained in the entry hall, she was forced to look up, up, before meeting his dark gaze.

“Nice place,” she said, even though the older home wasn’t at all what she’d expected from a successful surgeon. She had been so sure she’d find him living in a mansion above the Avenues, not a cul-de-sac near Westminster College.

“What are you doing here, Lucy?”

So much for chitchat.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could utter a sound, he held up one hand.

“No. Wait here. I need to get dressed first.”

Turning on his heel, he’d taken two of the carpeted steps before she asked, “Do you often answer the door in your bathrobe?”

Immediately, she wished she’d kept her mouth shut. As he peered at her over the railing, a tingling awareness shot down her spine. She became uncomfortably conscious of the white terry cloth, which revealed part of his chest and the slick wetness of his skin. Nick’s body was more powerful than she remembered, the muscles sculpted and well defined—yet another reason for her to believe he was unmarried. In her experience, married men usually didn’t have much time to devote to a rigorous training schedule in a gym.

But that didn’t mean he was unattached. There might not be a Mrs. Hammond, but chances were that Nick was involved with someone.

“I was expecting a colleague from the hospital with some urgent reports.”

“I see.” But even though the explanation seemed reasonable, she wondered if he was telling the truth. Maybe Nick was giving her an excuse so that he wouldn’t have to admit he was waiting for someone else. Someone who wouldn’t mind being greeted in such a familiar manner.

She was tempted to blurt out her suspicions, but before she could say a thing, Nick climbed the rest of the stairs and disappeared from view.

“That went well,” she grumbled under her breath.

Removing her hands from her pockets, she wiped them down the legs of her jeans, damning the moisture that revealed her nervousness. Try as she might, she couldn’t push away the image of Nick standing in the stairwell, the overhead light bathing his skin in a layer of gold.

Pull yourself together, Lucy, she inwardly chided. She’d come to Nick to ask him for his help as a surgeon.

He could never be anything more to her than that.

NICK HAMMOND SLAMMED his bedroom door behind him, dropped the robe on the floor and cursed softly under his breath.

When he’d heard the doorbell through the drumming of the shower, Nick hadn’t dreamed that it would be anyone other than Max Garcia. Max was a fellow surgeon who’d wanted a second opinion on the results of some tests for a young patient. If Nick had even thought that Lucy might be waiting on his porch…

She was the last person Nick would’ve expected to see. Five years ago, he’d arrived at the Salt Lake City courthouse intent on marrying her. Lucy’s rejection had been an emotional blow. When he’d watched her disappear, he’d been so sure he’d never see her again.

Since then, he’d done his best to push the unpleasant episode into the vague corners of his memory—a task that had proved more difficult than he’d imagined. Within months of leaving him at the courthouse, Lucy had become one of the prime foreign correspondents with CNC. And for a news junkie like Nick, seeing her face on television had been inevitable.

But he’d never expected to find her here. In his own home.

Realizing that his thoughts were circling like a loop of bad audiotape, Nick dragged on underwear, a faded sweatshirt, jeans, socks and a pair of battered running shoes. Then, after raking his fingers through his short hair, he took a deep, calming breath.

Yes, he’d been stunned to see her, but the surprise was over. So there was no need for his body to maintain the tension it had adopted the moment he’d seen her cool green eyes and angular features. He wasn’t in love with Lucy anymore. In fact, he’d begun to wonder if he’d ever been in love with her. He’d been able to convince himself that his emotional involvement had been like too much wine—a brief, powerful intoxication that had worn off with time. So when his body had immediately slipped into the rush of attraction he’d once experienced in Lucy’s presence, he’d been momentarily taken aback. But he was in control of his thoughts and his emotions now.

Whipping open the door, he hurried down the staircase, only to stop halfway. Lucy stood in his living room, gazing out the window, obviously unaware of his arrival.

For a moment, he was struck by the droop of her shoulders and the protective way she hugged her arms to her chest. In the light streaming from the hall, she seemed pale and much too thin. Her green eyes dominated her face.

“You look like hell, Lucy.”

She started, and he watched as she donned an expression of hauteur.

“It’s nice to see you, too.”

He joined her in the living room. “What have you been doing with yourself?”

She shrugged. “I’m a reporter.”

“I know. I’ve seen you on television. You have a very impressive career.”

“As do you.”

Moving toward her, Nick had the distinct impression that his nearness bothered her. He sensed her tension as the space between them disappeared, but despite her discomfort, she held her ground.

Closer, Nick decided that she looked downright haggard. She was at least ten pounds underweight. Her skin was drawn tightly over her cheekbones, making her features seem that much more angular and exotic.

And vulnerable. Much too vulnerable for a thirty-six-year-old woman who had already been through more in her short career than others would be in a lifetime.

Shaking away the thought, Nick slid his hands into his pockets.

“Why are you here, Lucy?” he asked quietly.

Lucy assumed a look of bravado that she patently didn’t feel.

“I need help, Nick.”

The words were offered so grudgingly that he might have smiled if she’d been anyone else.

“From me?” he blurted in disbelief. A short bark of laughter escaped before he could stop it.

Lucy frowned. “You needn’t sound so shocked.”

She was so obviously wounded by his affront that he laughed again.

“And why not? As I recall, we didn’t exactly part on good terms. Let’s see, you told me you were choosing your job over me, then you ran for the exit.”

A flush spread up her neck and over her cheeks. “What happened in the past is hardly relevant.”

“It seemed damn relevant to me at the time,” he countered.

“A lot of years have passed since then.”

“Five, to be precise.”

She sighed. “I haven’t come here to rehash the past.”

“Then why are you here?”

She hesitated for an awkward beat of silence. Then she lifted her chin and announced, “I need a favor that only you can grant.”

His eyebrows rose. “What’s wrong? Couldn’t find a date for the Emmys so you’re falling back on an old relationship?”

Her cheeks burned even more and she clenched her fists, but her voice remained calm and even. “No. I need your help with a professional matter and you’re the only person I can trust.”

Nick snorted. He should have known. She’d come for a story, nothing more.

“I’m sorry, I don’t give interviews.”

“I haven’t come for an interview.”

He rocked back on his heels, eyeing her suspiciously. “Then what do you want?”

“I need your help with a…medical matter.”

For the first time, Nick was forced to acknowledge that Lucy’s pallor might be a result of something other than mere vanity. Was Lucy ill? The thought was more disturbing that he cared to admit.

Instantly, he was swamped by the urge to protect her, but he pushed the sensation away in self-disgust. He’d experienced those same emotions before, and look where they’d taken him.

“I’m a pediatric surgeon,” he said bluntly. “You’re a little old for my specialty.”

“I know.”

When she continued to watch him with pleading ice-green eyes, the full meaning of her response sank into his brain. “You have…a child with a problem?”

“Yes.”

She was married.

Or not. Women didn’t necessarily marry these days in order to have a baby.

Still, the image of Lucy with a child was unsettling. He’d assumed that she was single and unfettered by family ties. Call it hubris, but he’d believed that if she wouldn’t marry him, she wouldn’t marry anyone.

A baby. His hands curled into fists and he fought the tension gathering in his stomach.

“No.” His response was low and curt.

“No?” she echoed blankly.

“No, I can’t help you. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“I won’t help you,” he said firmly. Any prolonged contact he might have would only breed more trouble.

Nick turned, making his way toward the door.

“Wait!” She reached out, stopping him. “You haven’t even heard what I have to say.”

Her touch was like a firebrand and his reaction was visceral and complete. Damn it all, hadn’t he learned anything? The sexual attraction between them had always been intense and instantaneous. But there was no substance to their emotions, nothing other than passion. They’d never had what it took to make a truly lasting relationship. That had been the most painful truth he’d had to acknowledge five years earlier. Eventually he’d seen that it was better the two of them hadn’t married. They’d each been too independent and too self-absorbed to sustain anything but a passionate affair.

“You’ve got to hear me out,” Lucy said urgently, tugging on his arm. “Please.” She reached into her pocket and withdrew a photograph. “This is the reason I’ve come to you for help.”

Chapter Two

It took a moment for Nick to absorb what he was seeing. The photo was of two children placed close enough together that their bodies touched and appeared to be entwined. No, not entwined.

Conjoined.

As Nick peered at the picture, he could see that the tiny, naked bodies were fused from the breast-bone to the abdomen. Otherwise, the little girls, no more than a few weeks old, looked fairly healthy, if a little underweight.

He was so absorbed in studying the twins that he couldn’t even remember how he’d come to be holding the photograph. “Where did you get this?”

“The children—the twins—have been placed in my care.”

His forehead creased. The twins were dark as the finest chocolate. Wisps of black fluff dusted the tops of their heads and eyes bright as new coins stared curiously in the direction of the camera’s lens. Judging by the clarity of the shot and the haunting quality of the image, the photo had probably been taken by Lucy. During her undergraduate studies, she’d made a name for herself with her stark portrait photography—a sideline job that had helped Lucy pay her way through college.