Australia: Bundles of Joy: Impossibly Pregnant / Top-Notch Surgeon, Pregnant Nurse / Caring For His Babies

Australia Bundles of Joy

Impossibly Pregnant

Nicola Marsh

Top-Notch Surgeon, Pregnant Nurse

Amy Andrews

Caring For His Babies

Lilian Darcy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Impossibly Pregnant

About the Author

NICOLA MARSH has always had a passion for writing and reading. As a young girl she devoured books when she should have been sleeping and later kept a diary whose contents could be an epic in itself!

These days, when she’s not enjoying life with her husband and sons in her home city of Melbourne, she’s at her computer, creating the romances she loves, in her dream job.

Visit Nicola’s website at www.nicolamarsh.com for the latest news of her books.

For Heath,

my littlest hero and very own precious miracle

CHAPTER ONE

‘There is no such thing as the perfect man.’

Keely Rhodes, age 19.

‘MBA. Nine o’clock!’

Keely Rhodes didn’t waste time answering her friend and co-worker, Emma Radfield. Instead, she slowly turned her head ninety degrees to the left, trying to look nonchalant as she checked out the Major Babe Alert.

However, rather than your average, run-of-the-mill babe, who occasionally popped into the sleek offices of Melbourne’s premier corporate website agency, WWW Designs, in search of the very best in Internet technology, this guy turned out to be the last person she had expected to see.

‘What do you think?’ Emma muttered under her breath, far less subtle in her attempt to ogle the guy as she craned her neck and elbowed Keely in the ribs.

I think I’ve died and gone to heaven, Keely thought, eyeing every glorious inch of the six-foot-three, broad-shouldered frame as he strode towards the reception desk.

Lachlan Brant was one fine specimen—and, by the confident charisma he oozed on the radio, probably knew it too.

‘That good, huh?’

Tearing her gaze away from him, Keely fixed her friend with a curious stare. ‘Don’t you recognise him?’

Emma shook her head. ‘Uh-uh. Believe me, if I’d seen that dreamboat before I would’ve remembered.’

‘The name Lachlan Brant ring any bells?’

‘The Lachlan Brant?’ Emma scanned him from head to foot and dabbed at the corner of her mouth. ‘Wow, he’s got the bod to match that incredibly sexy voice. Excuse me while I drool.’

‘Yeah, he’s not bad.’

As her friend quirked an eyebrow, Keely grinned. ‘Okay, he’s pretty cute.’

Emma’s other eyebrow joined the first.

‘Make that good-looking.’

If Emma’s eyebrows shot any higher they would be hidden under her blonde fringe.

Keely held up her hands in surrender. ‘Okay, he’s hot. Hotter than hot. He’s so hot he’s burning up. There, satisfied?’

Her friend sighed. ‘I would be if a guy like that looked twice at me.’

Keely rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, right. Like you’re interested in anyone but Harry Buchanan. Though for the life of me I can’t understand why you’re still pining over your first love. Get over it already.’

At the mention of Harry, Emma’s eyes glazed over as if lost in some precious private memory.

Keely made an exasperated sound akin to a snort. ‘Anyone ever tell you you’re a hopeless romantic?’

Emma smiled. ‘And I wouldn’t have it any other way. What do you think he’s doing here?’

Filling her cup from the water-cooler and taking several long gulps to dislodge the lump of foreboding in her throat, Keely hoped to God it wasn’t for the reason she suspected.

‘Who knows? He’s probably dating our illustrious leader.’

Or else he’d discovered the real identity of the caller who had given him more than he’d bargained for last week on his popular radio talkback show.

‘No way! He’d have better taste than that, surely?’

Keely shrugged, not in the mood to dish the dirt on Rabid Raquel, the boss from hell, as most of her employees liked to call her. Right now, she was torn between wanting to keep an eye on Lachlan Brant and running back to her office and hiding from him.

Besides, she had more important things to think about, like putting the finishing touches to the website for Melbourne’s largest athletic company, designing an upbeat site for Flirt, the newest women’s magazine about to hit the shelves, and planning Emma’s surprise birthday party.

‘I need to get back to work,’ she said, casting one final appreciative glance in Lachlan Brant’s direction before turning away.

Emma sighed. ‘Yeah, me too. Lunch at Sammy’s? Midday? I’ll e-mail Tahlia.’

‘If she can tear herself away. Our Director of Sales seems tied to her desk these days.’

‘She’s gunning for that promotion, you know.’

Keely nodded. If anyone understood, she should. After all, wasn’t that one of the main driving forces behind her maniacal hours at the moment? She’d coveted the role of Director of Graphic Design for the last year and might have a shot at the job if Nadia would ever announce her pregnancy.

‘Fine, but if she misses one more of our lunches she’ll become a very dull girl. You know what they say, all work and no play …’

Emma sent her a sceptical look.

Keely chuckled. ‘You’re right. As if anything about Tahlia could ever be dull.’

Tahlia Moran was brash, effervescent and the life and soul of every party. Throw in gorgeous and confident and it was little wonder that Keely felt like faded wallpaper next to her other closest friend.

‘See you at midday.’

However, before Keely could make her escape, Chrystal, receptionist extraordinaire—and all-round good-time gal if the office rumour mills were correct—waved her over.

Thankful she’d worn her favourite power suit today, Keely strolled across the chrome and glass foyer as if facing Lachlan Brant, her would-be nemesis, was something she did every day.

‘Keely, Ms Wilson wants to see you in her office for a second before you pop back here and take Mr Brant up.’ Chrystal flashed her an Oh-goody-look-what-Santa-brought-me-this-year smile as she stared up at Lachlan Brant—her next apparent intended victim in the bedroom stakes—with adoration, barely casting Keely a second glance.

Trying to keep her nerves at bay and wondering what Raquel wanted—and why she had to show him up to the boss’s office—Keely schooled her face into what she hoped was a professional mask and turned to face him.

‘Hi, I’m Keely Rhodes. If you’d like to take a seat, I’ll be with you shortly.’

Then it happened.

The man she’d publicly berated on radio turned and fixed her with a penetrating stare, the deep blue of his eyes highlighted by a shirt of the same colour.

And her heart lurched.

For the first time in her twenty-six years, the organ she’d managed to shield from breaking by only dating Mr Averages did some weird pumping that sent blood pounding through her body at a million beats a minute.

‘Pleased to meet you.’ He smiled and held out his hand—her heart didn’t stand a chance.

Keely didn’t believe in love at first sight. She was a realist who had both feet firmly planted on the ground and it hadn’t steered her wrong to date. Why have romantic notions like Emma or follow nebulous predictions like Tahlia? Wishing for something that would never come true was asking for heartache and she had no intention of taking a fall.

Aware that she’d hesitated a fraction too long, Keely quickly slid her hand into his and shook it, the warmth of his touch doing strange things to her insides as his long, tapered fingers closed over hers.

Now she knew for sure. Not only had her heart flipped out, her common sense had joined the party. Since when did a mere handshake feel like an intimate touch designed for her and her alone?

‘I’ll be waiting.’ His deep voice washed over her, so much richer, mellower, in person than over the airwaves.

How many nights had she lain awake listening to this man and the advice he dished out to the masses, listening to his voice for the sheer pleasure of it? She’d imagined an older man, someone with a wealth of life experience, till she’d seen his photo in the newspaper, though Lachlan Brant in grainy print was nothing compared to the man in the flesh.

Mentally shaking herself out of her reverie, she extracted her hand and tried to get a grip—on her wits, not the man looking at her with an amused gleam in those all-knowing eyes.

‘Fine. I’ll be back soon,’ she said, wondering what it was about him that had her so flustered.

So he had a great body, a soulful voice and a lethal smile. That didn’t make him God’s gift to women. Or did it?

He also had a degree in psychology and analysed people for a living, a fact she’d rubbed his nose in during her five-minute brush with fame—or infamy—last week. And boy, would she be in trouble if he recognised her as the crackpot who had made scathing fun of him during that call. ‘Quack’, ‘thick as a brick’, and ‘out of touch’ were a few of the insults she’d levelled at him that sprang to mind—and they’d been the tame ones!

Hoping her legs wouldn’t wobble, she walked away, resisting the urge to glance over her shoulder and see if he was checking her out.

As if. Since when did guys like him go for girls like her? Though she’d conquered her eating disorder years ago, she hadn’t shed her inhibitions regarding her body along with the excess kilos. Though she looked okay, she wasn’t a patch on the waif look that most men favoured these days—and never would be.

Reaching Raquel’s door, she cast aside her body-image issues, took a deep breath and entered after knocking twice.

‘About time you got here. What took you so long?’

Though Raquel Wilson was a competent leader, with enough drive to take WWW Designs into the next decade, her people skills were on a par with those of an angry Rottweiler. In fact, several employees had taken to calling her Raquel the Rottie behind her back, and Lord help them if she ever found out. Keely had a sneaking suspicion that in this case the Rottie’s bite would be every bit as bad as her bark.

Keely gritted her teeth and fixed a smile on her face. ‘I was waylaid by a client.’

‘Lachlan Brant, you mean?’ Raquel’s eyes took on a predatory gleam, the same look she got whenever a lucrative client set foot in the office.

‘Uh-huh.’

‘Good.’ Raquel threw the pen she’d been holding on top of a pile of paperwork that looked as if it would keep her chained to her desk for the next decade. ‘He’s your new assignment.’

Oh-oh. When Raquel said ‘assignment’, it meant trouble. Co-workers avoided one of her special assignments like the plague—she demanded you tail the client like a detective, finding out every nitty-gritty detail to make sure their account was the best and therefore would lure further big business for the company. In a way, that was what kept WWW Designs at the top. However, the thought of wearing the gorgeous Lachlan Brant like a second skin for any length of time had Keely wanting to hotfoot it to the nearest ice cream parlour—and she’d kicked that habit a long time ago.

Resisting the urge to run as fast as her legs could carry her, Keely did her best to look keen. ‘Sounds like a wonderful opportunity but I’m kind of snowed under with other accounts at the moment. Flirt has just come onboard and I—’

‘Lachlan Brant is your number one priority as of now. I’m sure you’ll find a way to juggle the rest.’ Raquel stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows that took in an impressive view of Melbourne’s latest cultural icon, Federation Square, and the beautiful dome of Flinders Street Station. ‘I have every confidence in you, Keely. If you do well, there could be a promotion in this for you.’

Great. Just great.

How could she refuse tailing Lachlan Brant’s well-toned tail in exchange for a chance at the big time?

‘I’ll do my best.’ Inwardly sighing in resignation, she knew that in the Rottie’s case her best often wasn’t good enough.

‘See that you do. Now, bring the man in question up here and let’s see if we can get him to sign on the dotted line.’

Keely nodded, managed a grin that she knew must look like a grimace, and headed back to the foyer to find her new assignment.

Lachlan stood as soon as she entered the reception area and his sheer presence hit her all over again. The man was serious drool material—and, by that cocky grin, boy, did he know it.

‘Ready for me now?’

Ha! If he only knew how ready …

She nodded. ‘Follow me.’

He did exactly that and she was aware of him every step of the way to Raquel’s office. Thankfully, he didn’t have a clue to her identity as a moonlighting heckler and she hoped it stayed that way.

‘Your name sounds familiar. Have we met before?’

Her hand stilled on the doorknob to the Rottie’s office and she gulped. So much for breathing easy.

‘I don’t think so,’ she managed to get out, without a trace of apprehension in her voice.

‘Keely is rather an unusual name. I’m sure I’ve heard it recently.’ He fixed her with yet another piercing glare and she could almost imagine him stroking an imaginary goatee, like some Freudian professor trying to discover the meaning of life as he racked his brain to place her.

Stifling a grin at her mental image of the gorgeous psychologist in front of her even remotely resembling one of his ancient predecessors, she knocked on Raquel’s door and waited for the usual barked command to enter.

‘Come in.’ Judging by the decibel level, Raquel was keeping it down to a dull roar in deference to Lachlan’s status as prospective ‘assignment’ material.

‘Is this a bad time?’ Lachlan muttered under his breath, placing a hand in the small of her back to guide her through the door.

If she’d learned one thing it was never to slander her boss with anyone other than Emma and Tahlia, and especially not with strangers. However, with his innocuous touch burning a hole through her cool wool jacket, Keely lost all rational thought for a moment.

Concentrate, girl. She needed the promotion to Director of Graphic Design, and babbling in front of her boss and her newest project was not the way to go about it.

‘Raquel is very busy,’ she said, eagerly pushing open the door to escape the intimacy that seemed to envelop them in the deserted corridor.

‘I don’t speak to prospective clients like that when I’m busy,’ he muttered as they entered the airy office, a slight frown marring his brow.

The Rottie bared her teeth in an attempt at smiling and shook his hand. ‘Good morning, Mr Brant. Take a seat and let’s get started.’

So much for pleasantries. Raquel picked up a folder and slid it across her desk.

‘Call me Lachlan. And surely all this paperwork is a mere formality?’ He gestured to the folder he’d barely flicked through. ‘I’ve already done my research, and it looks like WWW Designs will suit my needs, so let’s dispense with the sales pitch. I’m eager to get started straight away.’

Raquel’s eyes gleamed behind her rimless glasses. She was obviously pleased at landing a big client with seemingly little effort. ‘Well, that was relatively painless. Glad to see you’re a decisive man, Lachlan, and I’m pleased that you’ve chosen our firm to handle your Internet needs. Why don’t you take these documents with you, leave them with Chrystal once they’re signed, and let Keely show you where she works her magic?’

Magic? The Rottie must really want to land the Brant account, badly.

‘I’m looking forward to it.’

And, just like that, Keely had the sudden urge to bolt, promotion or not. Lachlan stared at her with a hint of speculation in his eyes and, with her imagination working overtime, she could’ve sworn she read more than an interest in her design skills there.

He continued, giving her valuable breathing space. ‘Your company seems to offer exactly what I’m looking for.’

She tried to break eye contact with him and failed, suddenly knowing how a cobra felt, trapped under the hypnotising stare of a mongoose.

Besides, she was obviously reading more into his words. How could a man like him be remotely interested in her?

Clearing her throat, she finally managed to speak. ‘If you’ll follow me, we can get started now.’

The corners of his mouth twitched again, as if he was having difficulty keeping a straight face, and she could’ve bitten her tongue. Obviously, he had a different idea to what getting started meant.

Rather than making some wisecrack, as she had half-expected, he inclined his head and said, ‘Lead the way.’

She was expecting a parting shot from Raquel, and her boss didn’t disappoint. ‘Make this your best work, Keely.’

Keely smiled through gritted teeth and nodded. As if she ever produced anything less! Though the way her mind kept wandering, from the way Lachlan’s suit seemed tailormade for his broad-shouldered frame to the way he smiled with his eyes as well as his mouth, maybe the Rottie had a point in reminding her to keep focused on the job at hand?

As she closed the door Lachlan asked, ‘Is she always like that?’

Keely resisted the urge to growl and make like a possessive dog over a bone, the way she did with the girls when one of them had a gripe with their boss.

‘Raquel is very driven. It’s what keeps this company at the top,’ she said, hoping that the good Lord would reward her for being so professional—with the big fat promotion she’d coveted for ages.

‘Good to hear. I only work with the best.’ He smiled and she noticed the fine lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes, lending a tiny flaw to the otherwise model-handsome face. He leaned towards her and for one insane moment she thought he was going to kiss her. ‘And it looks like I’ve got it here.’

‘Are you flirting with me?’

Oops! The words had popped out before she could stop them and to her horror, his smile broadened into a fully fledged grin, like that of a starving cat toying with an itty-bitty mouse.

‘What if I am?’

That would mean you’re interested in me as a woman and it’s my lucky day!

Mentally slapping herself for her wayward and wishful thoughts, she said, ‘That wouldn’t be very professional. We have a lot of work to do and I’d rather not be distracted.’

True to her cat analogy, he pounced. ‘You think I’m a distraction, huh?’

Who was the man trying to kid? In the last half-hour she’d thought about his body, eyes, smile and butt—in that order. Well, maybe the latter had been higher on the list, but it wouldn’t help to think about that now, when she could hardly string two coherent words together as it was.

‘Don’t flatter yourself.’ I’m doing enough for the both of us. Even if it was only in her mind. ‘I merely meant that word games aren’t my style. I’d rather focus on the job at hand.’

He’d fallen into step beside her and thankfully she didn’t have to look at him, preferring to concentrate on the suddenly onerous task of putting one foot in front of the other and not falling flat on her face. She had an embarrassing habit of clumsiness around men who grabbed her interest and she had no intention of adding to his obvious amusement by sprawling at his feet.

‘Mmm … interesting. Does that apply to all areas of your life?’

What was with this guy? He might be irresistible but didn’t he ever switch off the charm?

‘That’s none of your business.’ She pushed open the door to her office and waved him in. ‘Speaking of which, I think it’s time we got down to some.’

‘After you.’

She brushed past him, catching a faint waft of aftershave. She usually hated the stuff, but this was a tantalizing blend of fresh citrus that seemed to wrap around her and add to the heady sensation of being in a confined space with the hottest man to enter her sphere in a long time.

Grateful to have a seat before she made a complete fool of herself, she gestured to the one next to her. ‘Let’s get started.’

His knee touched hers as he folded his long legs beneath the desk, sending heat sizzling through her body and hot-wiring her dormant hormones.

Great. Not only had her mind entered meltdown mode, her body had followed suit.

‘I’m all yours,’ he said, sitting back and folding his arms, his confident grin setting her heart hammering in her chest.

And as she reached forward to angle the computer screen towards him and knocked over her credenza, sending pens, paperclips and rulers in all directions, she could only think of one response.

I wish.

Lachlan managed to appear interested as Keely prattled on about search engines, uploading pages, hosting companies and web space. However, the sultry brunette’s non-verbal cues intrigued him more than anything she was saying.

From her rigid posture and fiddling fingers to her tapping foot, she seemed nervous.

And so she should be.

The sophisticated woman doing her best to impress him with her knowledge had a secret and, though he hadn’t said anything yet, he was on to her.

Cops never forgot a face, and in his profession, after three years on the radio, he never forgot a voice. Though his late-night caller last week had sounded intoxicated, he remembered every cadence, every modulation of the melodious voice that had scrutinized his character and found it lacking.

He’d been angry at the time, and now that his beautiful heckler had been unexpectedly dropped in his lap, could’ve fired both barrels at her. However, he was in a playful mood today. Perhaps he would string her along till he felt like doing a little heckling of his own?

‘Do you have any ideas about the image you want portrayed on your web page?’

She picked up a pen and tapped it against her thigh as she waited for his answer, and all he could think about was the way her hazel-coloured eyes sparkled with intelligence, how the trendy black pinstripe suit fitted her curvy body to perfection, and what he would give for another glimpse of the cheeky dimple that appeared like an unexpected bonus when she smiled.

‘I’ve been in radio for a while. Perhaps you’ve listened to the Brant Show?’

Bull’s-eye! He watched her blush, the faint pink staining her cheeks lending her face a glow, and suddenly he wondered if any other activities could bring that tinge of colour to her face.

She nodded and looked at some distant point over his left shoulder. ‘I’ve listened to your show on the odd occasion. It’s very interesting.’

‘What do you think of my advice?’

To his delight, her blush deepened. ‘You seem to know what you’re talking about.’

The pen she held increased its staccato tempo against her thigh and, despite the fun he was having in baiting her, he decided to put an end to her obvious discomfort.

‘Thanks. The producers of my prospective TV show want to capture some of my expertise from radio while adding a fresh look at the same time. Think you can help me out?’

Tucking the pen behind her ear and swivelling to face the PC monitor, she smiled and his blood pressure rocketed. God, she was beautiful—from her shoulder-length sleek chocolate-brown hair to that adorable dimple.

He hadn’t dated anyone in a while, after the last disaster. His ex-girlfriend hadn’t tolerated a man who worked all hours and, though he’d spent quality time with her, she’d ended the relationship after four short months.