Dr. Desirable

“I May Never Forgive You For This,”

Michelle muttered as she peeked through her sister’s living room curtain.

Striding up Brooke and Jared’s walkway was none other than Nick Kempner, dressed in black tie and accompanied by his daughter, obviously Michelle’s charge for the evening. She adored Kelsey and didn’t mind one bit baby-sitting the little girl. However, she did mind the fact that she would have to face the girl’s father, especially since he looked like a young version of James Bond with his tanned face contrasting with the tuxedo shirt, his dark hair primed to perfection. At the moment, the doctor was definitely shaking and stirring her belly.

Brooke opened the door while Michelle hung back. She moved just far enough that she could still see Nick, but Nick couldn’t see her. Enough distance to allow her the opportunity to get a good look at him without him knowing it.

And what a view it was.

Dear Reader,

Escape the winter doldrums by reading six new passionate, powerful and provocative romances from Silhouette Desire!

Start with our MAN OF THE MONTH, The Playboy Sheikh, the latest SONS OF THE DESERT love story by bestselling author Alexandra Sellers. Also thrilling is the second title in our yearlong continuity series DYNASTIES: THE CONNELLYS. In Maternally Yours by Kathie DeNosky, a pleasure-seeking tycoon falls for a soon-to-be mom.

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A single-dad surgeon meets his match in Dr. Desirable, the second book of Kristi Gold’s MARRYING AN M.D. miniseries. And Kate Little’s Tall, Dark & Cranky is an enchanting contemporary version of Beauty and the Beast.

Indulge yourself with all six of these exhilarating love stories from Silhouette Desire!

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Joan Marlow Golan

Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire

Dr. Desirable

Kristi Gold

MILLS & BOON

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KRISTI GOLD

began her romance-writing career at the tender age of twelve, when she and her sister spun romantic yarns involving a childhood friend and a popular talk-show host. Since that time, she’s given up celebrity heroes for her favorite types of men, doctors and cowboys, as her husband is both. An avid sports fan, she attends football and baseball games in her spare time. She resides on a small ranch in central Texas with her three children and retired neurosurgeon husband, along with various livestock ranging from Texas longhorn cattle to spoiled yet talented equines. At one time she competed in regional and national Appaloosa horse shows as a nonpro, but she gave up riding for writing and turned the “reins” over to her youngest daughter. She attributes much of her success to her sister, Kim, who encouraged her in her writing, even during the tough times. When she’s not in her office writing her current book, she’s dreaming about it. Readers may contact Kristi at P.O. Box 11292, Robinson, TX 76116.

To Belinda,

for all those Wednesday-night brainstorming sessions in a barn apartment, fighting the dust, deadlines and, at times, insecurity. But most of all, for being there from the beginning.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Epilogue

One

She had a face designed by angels and a body that could incite a riot.

Unfortunately for Dr. Nick Kempner, Michelle Lewis held him in very low esteem, thanks to that little incident a few months ago at her sister’s wedding.

Nick still didn’t understand why she had taken such offense at being called a princess. After all, she had looked like royalty in that bridesmaid’s dress. And considering she’d called him a toad in a tux, he should be the offended party. Of course, his ex-wife had probably called him worse.

Today Michelle Lewis, in the role of San Antonio Memorial’s public relations guru, still looked like a cross between sin and sainthood. She also looked none too pleased to see Nick when he entered the meeting a little late. Okay, so he was more than a little late. Considering Michelle was the only remaining occupant in the hospital conference room, he’d obviously missed the luncheon assembly altogether.

Michelle offered Nick only a cursory glance when he leaned back against the conference table and watched her. She continued to gather her things without so much as a polite “get the hell out of Dodge, Doc.”

Feeling like an errant kid, Nick waited for her acknowledgment of his presence. When that failed to come, he gave up and gave in. “So what did I miss?”

“The whole meeting. It ended about five minutes ago.”

Nick shrugged. “Sorry I’m late. My nine-o’clock surgery took longer than planned.”

Michelle shoved her laptop computer into its case resting on the table. Only then did she give him her full attention. “Since this is the second meeting in a row that you’ve missed, maybe you should reconsider serving on the committee if it puts a strain on your schedule.”

He brought out his best grin. “Maybe we could hold the meetings in the O.R. You could do your presentation while I do a total hip replacement.”

The beginnings of a smile curled the corners of her mouth but it didn’t form enough to reveal her arresting dimples. “Interesting suggestion. However, most of the physicians manage to work around the monthly meetings without resorting to such drastic measures.”

“Well, Ms. Lewis, I guess I’m not like most docs around here. I like to put the patient’s needs first. I’m kind of funny that way when it comes to my medical practice.” He’d be glad to give her what she needed, anytime, anyplace, even now.

Not a good idea to make that offer, Nick decided, when she folded her arms beneath her breasts and pinned him in place with her intense indigo eyes. “I admit that’s an admirable quality, Doctor. But we need all the input from physicians we can get in order to make a successful go of this ad campaign.”

Time for a dose of diplomacy. “And how is the campaign going?”

“Very well, thank you. Today we discussed the new pediatric unit’s assets and how we’ll utilize them in advertisement.”

The only assets Nick cared about at the moment were Michelle’s. The red sleeveless turtleneck traveled all the way up her slender throat but didn’t conceal the outline of her full breasts. The fitted black knit skirt hit her midcalf yet revealed a nice glimpse of leg through the slits up both sides. Her long dark hair gleamed like the polished walnut table behind him, making him itch to test its texture. Those were the kind of assets he could definitely appreciate.

But Nick realized that he wouldn’t get anywhere with Michelle Lewis by ogling her, so he pulled his gaze back to her face and his mind back on business. “Exactly what are the ads going to feature? The new pediatric ICU?”

She took out a pair of glasses from the pocket of a jacket draped over a chair and slipped them on, as if that might make her look more qualified. It sure as heck didn’t make her look any less enticing. “Actually we’re going to spotlight the new family room.”

“The family room? Are you sure that makes sense?”

She looked annoyed. Beautiful, but annoyed. “It makes perfect sense. We want parents to know that they have a place to relax when their child is ill. Besides, the majority of people take high-tech equipment for granted. Dr. Rainey pointed that out during the meeting.”

Nick figured Al Rainey was trying to score points with Michelle. Or more than likely just score. That made Nick more than mad. The guy was a class-A jerk, especially when it came to attractive women. Someone needed to remind him that he was married, and often. “No offense, but Al Rainey is a plastic surgeon.” And a mediocre one at that. “Face-lifts are his forte, not ad campaigns.”

“Actually the idea was mine.”

Well, hell, he’d really done it now. “Oh, yeah?”

Michelle frowned. “Yeah. And quite frankly, Dr. Rainey’s been very cooperative and insightful. As a matter of fact, he always comes early to the meetings.”

Nick chose to ignore the dig at his tardiness, but he couldn’t disregard her defense of a known hospital lecher. “Rumor has it that Rainey comes early in all his endeavors.”

Michelle cleared her throat and blushed like the devil. “Well, he is the chair of the committee and he agrees that we should focus on the family room.”

He’d lay money that Al had his focus on Michelle.

Nick couldn’t get a handle on his sudden jealousy. He also couldn’t resist pushing some of Michelle’s buttons, just like she’d pushed some of his at the wedding. Like she was pushing some now. Hot buttons. “I personally believe that if we’re going to be taken seriously here at Memorial, we should center on quality health care. That is, if my opinion matters, since it takes me a lot longer than Rainey to arrive when it comes to certain undertakings.”

Michelle slipped off the glasses and tapped one armature against her chin, looking calm and collected. But the blush was still apparent on her cheeks. “Of course your opinion is valued, Doctor. And I promise the new equipment will be mentioned in the ad copy. Will that satisfy you?”

The only thing that would satisfy him at the moment would be to kiss that sassy look off her face. “Yeah, that pleases me right nice, Ms. Lewis.”

Her smile finally made an appearance, revealing her damnable dimples, heralding victory. “I’m so glad you’re pleased, Dr. Kempner. Anything else I can do for you?”

Oh, yeah, he could think of several things, and none were proper.

Batting the thoughts away like a persistent fly, he gave her a little salute. “Nope, that’s all.” He answered her smile with one of his own. “For starters.”

Of all the confounded cocky doctors, Nick Kempner was at the top of Michelle’s list. And a long list it was.

No doubt about it, the man had an uncanny knack for getting her hackles up. It had all started the first day they’d officially met at Brooke and Jared’s wedding. Out of respect for her brother-in-law and sister, she’d tolerated him then. Out of respect for her job, she’d tolerated him today. Not that he wasn’t really nice to look at.

But she wasn’t one to kowtow to men unless absolutely necessary. She imagined that plenty of women would perform back flips for Nick Kempner, or anything else he requested. All he probably had to do was flash his pearly whites and nail them with those mocha-colored eyes and Whamo! They were immediately transformed into mindless sheep searching for a slick shepherd.

Not Michelle. She’d had her fill of silver-tongued healers with lovin’ on their minds, some sporting a marriage license along with an M.D., as well as a penchant for hiding the truth. Of course, Nick Kempner was unattached. Not that it mattered, considering his reputation with the ladies. Nor did it matter that he was Brooke’s husband’s best friend, or that Brooke had strongly hinted that Michelle should get to know him better. That was one rocky road Michelle intended to avoid, regardless of her sibling’s less-than-subtle matchmaking attempts. And Nick Kempner’s overt charisma.

Michelle strode toward the elevators, trailing behind the stream of medical staff returning to their jobs from lunch. At least the meeting had gone well. After the meeting was another thing altogether, thanks to Nick Kempner.

“Hey, Ms. Lewis, wait up.”

Good Lord, was he following her?

She turned to face the recent burr in her bottom but continued to walk backward. “More concerns, Dr. Kempner?”

“Nope. No more concerns.” He gave her a lingering once-over and an optimum grin. A smile designed to liquefy joints. And darned if it didn’t.

Feeling as exposed as if she were wearing a half-undone hospital gown, Michelle clutched the computer’s case to her chest. “Then what else can I do for you?”

“I just want another minute of your time.”

They came to a stop in front of the elevators, and she had to look up at him. She’d reached five-ten during her sophomore year in high school, so looking up at a man wasn’t a common occurrence.

“Your ride’s here, Michelle,” Dr. Rainey called out, his hand battling the insistent elevator doors.

“Go ahead,” she said. “I’ll catch the next one.”

Rainey’s smile wasn’t nearly as effective as the patent Kempner grin. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” She brought her attention back to Nick and impatiently tapped her foot. “Yes?”

“He just beats all now, don’t he?” Nick drawled.

“Why, Dr. Kempner, with that accent, one might think your moniker should be Billy Bob.”

“Guess my roots are showing.”

“Roots?”

“Born-and-bred Texan.”

She sent a pointed look at his feet. Cross trainers, not cowhide. Big cross trainers. Big feet. She met his steady gaze. “Oh, those kind of roots.”

“Yeah. Not to be mistaken for Rainey’s roots. The guy really needs to restock on hair dye.”

Michelle tried not to smile but couldn’t quite get a grip on her grin. “You really don’t like him much, do you?”

“Ah, now, does it show?”

“Just a bit.” She leaned back against the wall separating the two elevators, the sudden awkward silence broken only by the operator paging someone on staff. “I really have to get back, so if you can just tell me what you need.” Boy, was that leaving herself wide open for all sorts of possibilities.

He zeroed in on her eyes. She wanted to look away, but couldn’t. “I owe you an apology for questioning your expertise. And a belated one for my faux pas at Brooke and Jared’s wedding.”

Apology? She certainly didn’t expect that. “Apology accepted, Dr. Kempner. Okay?”

He cocked one shoulder against the wall and faced her. He smelled good, looked even better. “It’s Nick, and it’s not okay. I got a bit out of hand.”

Her reaction to him was getting out of hand. Way out of hand. Her pulse jumped like a cat on a hot grill. She’d been annoyed by his failure to make the meeting on time, and now she was annoyed at herself for finding him attractive. Would she ever learn? “Let’s call a truce.”

“Good idea. After all, we’re in this together.”

Now why did that sound so darned intimate? “Yes, I guess you’re right.”

He pointed at her chest. “Do you need any help with that?”

“Beg pardon?”

“Your computer.”

She glanced down. Like a fool, she’d forgotten she had the thing in a choke hold. “I can manage.”

Michelle pushed away from the wall, shoved the case’s strap over her shoulder and thumbed the elevator’s down button. She turned to find him standing not more than a foot away. Really, really close. So close she could run her hand along the ridge of his strong jaw, trace the outline of his lips, the cleft in his chin…

Thankfully the elevator doors sighed open, providing her with a much-needed escape. She backed into the car while Nick Kempner just stood there with hands hidden in the pockets of his starched lab coat, an insolent lock of dark hair falling over his forehead, the V-neck of his blue scrubs revealing a pleasant glimpse of dark chest hair.

He tipped an imaginary hat. “You have a good day now, Ms. Lewis.”

Shifting the strap to the other shoulder, she punched the Open Door button. “Don’t you want to go down with me?”

His grin made another appearance, slow as sunrise, and just as bright. “Oh, yeah, that sounds real tempting. But I’m needed up on the med-surg floor for a consult. Maybe later?”

Michelle presumed her face resembled a hothouse tomato. And she’d mistakenly thought her foot was too big to fit in her mouth. Her hand dropped from the button, the doors slowly closed and her last image of Nick Kempner branded her brain—his hand raised in a wave, his smile full of mischief, his dark eyes drilling holes in her well-honed reserve.

Of all the seductive, sexy surgeons, Dr. Nick Kempner was now at the top of Michelle’s list. And a small list it was.

The hot August sun beat a large swath across the backyard barbecue, indicating the extreme Texas summer was far from over. A trickle of sweat streamed down Michelle’s chest, pooling where the bathing suit top ended below her breasts. She swiped a hand over her forehead, pushing away the damp, rebellious hairs that wouldn’t fit into her ponytail. Idiot fringe, her mother called them. Fitting, considering what an idiot she’d been to let Nick Kempner get to her. He was still getting to her, even after two days. Still invading her thoughts, and sometimes her dreams.

She scanned the crowd of partygoers positioned in random groups spread across Jared and Brooke’s manicured lawn. Nick wasn’t here, as far as she could tell, although she’d been told he was invited. Maybe he was engaged in immoral combat in the pool house with a gullible nurse. That thought annoyingly irritated Michelle.

She sank back in the padded lawn chair and considered returning to the pool. But the pool was now crowded with a stew of kids too thick to stir. Nope, she’d just sit here sipping her lemonade and think about work.

She thought about Nick Kempner instead. Someone should bring her the discarded baseball bat so she could pound him out of her brain. Plenty of docs around to save her from a subdural hematoma.

Her brother-in-law moved forward from one block of people, clutching her sister’s hand. Michelle tamped down the wistful feelings when she noted the way Jared looked at Brooke, as if she were goddess of the universe. Brooke used to look at Michelle that way, with sibling adoration, as though big sister Michelle had scattered the stars. Not anymore.

But what could she expect? Brooke had her own life with Jared. Michelle’s job and seeing to her parents’ needs didn’t allow her much time to spend with Brooke. They were both adults now, living adult lives, not giggling kids practically attached at the hip. Brooke didn’t really need Michelle as much anymore. As it should be.

Then why did Michelle suddenly feel like a fallen hero?

Jared strolled to the redwood picnic table, hopped onto the bottom bench and let go a loud whistle. “Listen up, folks. We have an announcement to make.”

Michelle rose from her seat, securing the beach towel around her waist as she moved forward with the rest of the crowd. Jared sent Brooke another adoring look before turning back to the curious audience.

“As you all know,” he began, “I’ve been on leave since my accident. With the help of my beautiful and talented physical therapist wife, I’m finally ready to go back to surgery.”

Applause rang out. Michelle sought Brooke’s gaze and gave her a thumbs-up. Brooke responded with a radiant grin before giving her smile back to Jared.

Jared reached behind him and tapped his beer bottle on the table to garner the murmuring masses’ attention. “Although that’s good news, I’ve got even better news. During the course of my wife’s expert therapy, something else happened.”

Holding out his hand to Brooke, Jared helped her up to join him on the bench. They wrapped their arms around each other’s waists, forming a cocoon of contentment. Michelle sighed.

“Do you want to tell them, babe?” he asked Brooke.

Brooke nodded, looking more than a little misty. She had a certain glow about her, something Michelle had failed to notice until now. She could almost guess what was about to come, but the thought was unfathomable. Brooke would have told her something so important. Something so life altering.

“We’re going to have a baby,” Brooke said with a laugh.

Michelle stood stunned as Jared drew Brooke into a lingering kiss. Hurt shot straight through her heart, keen as a butcher knife, twice as painful. Why hadn’t Brooke told her first? Why had her sister—the closest person in her life—waited until now to make an announcement that should have been made in private to her family first?

Deep down, Michelle recognized she should be happy for Brooke and Jared. She should be doing back handsprings across the yard and cheering with the rest of the folk, including her mother who was hugging Brooke and crying, and her dad now doling out pats on Jared’s back. But she couldn’t.

Her fear and hurt wouldn’t let her. Hurt because Brooke hadn’t told her the news first. Fear for her sister’s health: the asthma that had plagued Brooke for so many years couldn’t be good for a pregnancy.

Michelle teetered on the brink of losing it. She hated crying. Hated that she even felt a need to cry. How much more selfish could she be?

She had to get away while she still could. Escape before all that hurt and self-admonishment came out on a rush of bitter tears. Turning on her bare feet, she slipped past the milling crowd and into the double patio doors, thankful she was alone. Thankful, for once, that her mother was occupied with Brooke and not playing chief cook and bottle washer.

Inside the ample kitchen a current of emotion swamped Michelle like a swollen river. So did the tears.

She allowed them only a moment before she started cleaning away the remnants of lunch like a mad maid on a ticking time clock. Like her mother. She scraped the paper plates clean into the disposal then threw them in the trash bin. She dumped liquid from myriad cups before tossing them into the overflowing sink. She picked up a plastic fork that had slipped from her hands and hurled it like a missile across the room where it landed near the dinette.

Slowly she walked to the table, grasped the back of one chair and knelt to pick up the utensil. She paused to swipe at her face damp with tears of frustration.

A pair of sandaled feet came into view. Two bare, tanned legs dusted by dark masculine hair shot upward from the feet, thighs slightly exposed before being covered by blue swim trunks. Two equally well-defined, bronzed arms dangled at the sides of the trunks, attached to an all-male torso covered by a white tank top. As Michelle visually progressed past the strong column of his throat and on up to his brown eyes, she knew she was truly in dire straits.

It was him.

Of all the people to join her pity party, Nick Kempner would have been the last to receive an invitation.

She stood with the fork clutched in one palm, the other hand still braced on the chair. His trademark grin faltered when he met her gaze, and Michelle wished she could just dissolve into the puddles of pool water on the floor.

She was an emotional wreck, and he had the nerve to look sympathetic. Why, oh, why, hadn’t she left an hour ago? What had she done to deserve Nick Kempner’s compassion? And how in the heck was she going to explain?