Playboy Doc's Mistletoe Kiss

Instead, Dean brooded. Off in the corner, he would nurse a glass of Scotch and watch her sit awkwardly at the bar. If he approved of whoever offered to buy her a drink he stayed put, if he didn’t … well, if he didn’t, he appeared next to her like an avenging angel and chased the man off.

So for the last two date nights—Jess had faked it. She pretended to leave with one of the pre-approved men and then bolted, feigning a headache or stomach virus. Maybe it was fortunate that the men were as nervous and unsure as she was, because it meant she went home alone.

Her one consolation was that Dean left by himself as well. At least, if he was keeping to his side of the bargain. From his grouchy demeanor at the hospital over the last couple of days, she’d say he really had slept alone.

Why that mattered, she had no idea.

She screwed up her courage for one last run, and went over to the bar, asking for a dark bitter ale—which she hated. Her friend Amy promised Jess would eventually get used to the stuff if she drank it often enough. Right now, she just wasn’t seeing it. But it was cheap and Amy swore men were impressed by a woman who drank dark ale. Hmm. Her friend was single and pregnant, so while it might attract them, that was evidently all it did. Which might work in Jess’s favor, actually.

She should probably give Amy a call and make sure everything was going okay.

Thank God this was the last night. Even Abbie and her parents had seemed surprised when she told them she had plans again this evening.

“Another date?” The hope in her mum’s voice would have been comical had it not been so very far from reality.

She’d mumbled something that she hoped made sense and then slunk from the room and away from Abbie’s suspicious eyes.

Sighing, she perched on the nearest stool and forced a sip down, glancing across the space and meeting Dean’s eye. This evening he was in a snug black T-shirt and faded jeans, the combination doing a number on her tummy. She’d never seen him dressed this informally. He lifted his own drink—something that looked a whole lot stronger than hers—and gave her a mocking salute before taking a swig of it.

Why was he even here? Surely not to make sure she did what she promised. Because he didn’t look particularly happy to be sitting there waiting for her to leave with her next victim. Or maybe he was just irritated that he wasn’t going to take someone home himself. Either way, this wasn’t fun anymore. Not that it ever had been.

Someone tapped her shoulder, and Jess turned her barstool to meet the smile of a blue-eyed ginger. “You’re a fan of ale, I see.”

The Scottish burr gave away his nationality, rolling across her in a way that made her smile right back. “Not actually, but I’m trying to learn.”

The man leaned forward and gave an audible sniff. “Dark Lady. Not a bad choice.”

Okay, so maybe Amy was on to something. “Are you a fan?”

“I am now.” Jess wasn’t sure if he was talking about the ale or about her. She sized him up. Just how hard was he going to be to get rid of when it came time to leave?

When he covered her hand with his, she had her answer. She tensed, a trickle of panic beginning to gather in her midsection.

She didn’t want to make anyone angrier than necessary. Especially a man like this one. She got the feeling he might be a little more difficult to shake.

Swallowing, she wondered if she could glance back at Dean and get his attention. They hadn’t set up a signal in case she got in over her head. So maybe she should …

The back of her neck prickled just as her newfound companion’s brows pulled together. His hand tightened over hers.

“I was wondering where you’d gotten off to, Jess.”

Dean.

Had he read her mind? As much as she’d been thinking about sending out an SOS, what she really wanted to do was leave and get this whole bet thing over with. It had been beyond stupid. A time waster. For both of them. She never would be a casual-sex type of girl, no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise. It was all fun and games … until someone lost an eye—or their heart.

Not that she was in danger of that from this particular ale aficionado.

But from Dean?

Lord, she hoped not.

She spun around, suddenly deciding she didn’t want or need his help. He’d decided he didn’t approve of this particular man? Well, she would show him that, from now on, she made those kinds of decisions.

Up went her brows. She needed to cut him off before he got started. The last couple of times he’d wanted to get rid of a man who had his eye on her, he’d pretended to be her significant other.

“Mum isn’t expecting us home until later.” She smirked up at him, daring him to contradict her.

His response? A slow, knowing smile.

“Mum knows what we’re like, when we’re out on the town.” He took the ale from her hand and set it in front of the Scotsman. “Enjoy.”

The man let go of her, his possessiveness appearing to change to horror when Dean lifted a brow and said, “Dance with me … sis.”

Then he whirled her into his arms and headed toward the floor where other couples were already moving to the beat of some slow song.

Jess couldn’t hold back a laugh. “I can’t believe you just did that. You’ve probably scarred that man for life.”

There was no way she was going to admit she was relieved. Relieved she wasn’t going to have to try to wave him off on her own.

“I can’t believe you called me your brother.”

“Serves you right for interfering.”

He leaned back to study her face. “Did you want to leave with him?”

No, she didn’t want to leave with him or anyone. But she’d gotten herself into a mess and wasn’t sure how to get herself back out of it. “I thought we had a deal. I leave with three different men, and you leave with no one.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

A warning tingle began at the back of her skull. “What do you mean you’ve changed your mind? Are you reneging on the bet?”

“Yes.” The word brushed across her, and the tingle became a full-fledged shiver.

He pressed his cheek to hers and drew her closer. If the Scotsman wasn’t scarred before at the way Dean had whisked her away, he probably was now.

Jess swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean neither of us is leaving with a stranger. Not you. Not me.” His hand tightened on hers just the way the Scotsman’s had. The intimate contact filled her with alarm, but a completely different kind of alarm. Because she liked it.

“Well, you not leaving with someone was kind of the point, wasn’t it?” Although her voice sounded as shaky as her legs felt, she managed a smile.

“I’m forfeiting. As of now.”

So he was tired of frittering his nights away with nothing to show for it in the end. She should be glad. Because that meant she didn’t have to pretend to leave with anyone now.

But she wasn’t glad. And she wasn’t quite sure why. “You’re a free man. I assume you already have someone in mind.”

“I do.”

Jess turned her head, trying to figure out who the lucky woman was.

He tucked his fingers under her chin and shifted her face back toward his. “You’re wrong. Are you so oblivious about what you do to a man like that?” He nodded in the direction of the bar where she’d sat a few moments ago.

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“He wanted to take you home with him.”

“Oh.” Of course she knew that, but then again people in places like this probably weren’t particularly choosy. After all, they were here for the same reason that Dean probably came here. To find a companion for a night of sex.

He chuckled. “You really don’t have any idea, do you?” His fingers left her chin and trailed up the line of her jaw. “There’s only one woman I’m interested in leaving with.”

“Who?” The trembling in her legs came back full force.

“Let’s just say I’m thinking some very unbrotherly thoughts right now.”

Her? He wanted to leave with her. Why?

Wasn’t it obvious? Casual sex, remember?

It was on the tip of her tongue to give him a resounding yes and leap into his arms. But whatever had been niggling in the back of her head grew as she thought through the implications. He was tired of playing the wingman … tired of his little hunger strike. And now he was hoping to break his fast. What easier target than the person he’d coaxed into taking this ridiculous bet in the first place? The person he’d dared to have casual sex with three different men. How easy would it be for Dean to be that third man?

It had nothing to do with her at all. She could be a plastic mannequin for all he cared.

Casual sex, indeed. Maybe that was good enough for him, but it wasn’t for her. He might think her a prude, but she didn’t care anymore.

Hurt surged up from somewhere inside her—a large festering lump that threatened to burst open in front of everyone in the pub.

“I don’t think so, Dean. I have no clue what put this idea into your head, but you can put it right back out. If you want someone to pass the night with, you’d better keep on looking. Because this girl is leaving this whole scene. Alone.”

With that, Jess yanked free of Dean’s hold and stomped out of the pub and into the night.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE BABY WASN’T BREATHING.

The second the newborn was placed in his hands, Dean went into full crisis mode, belting out orders, even as he raced through possible treatment options, ruling them out one by one. Exhaustion pulled at his limbs, but at least he was able to put that fiasco with Jess last night out of his head. For now. He had no space for anything but what was currently happening in this room.

The victim of a drunk driver, the newborn’s mother had been fatally struck as she crossed an intersection to go to work. CPR at the scene and efforts to resuscitate at Cambridge Royal had proved unsuccessful. The decision was made to put mum on life support and do an emergency C-section in an effort to save the baby, even as a grief-stricken husband waited outside the surgical suite.

“Let’s bag her.” He laid the baby on a table and a manual resuscitator was placed in his hand.

“Come on, sweetheart.” The words whispered through his skull, with each squeeze of the Ambu bag. The tiny chest rose and fell. There was a heartbeat, but, so far, no effort at breathing on her own.

Going through his mental checklist, he had one of the nurses take over the bagging so he could test reflexes. He was gratified to see there were at least some reactions, though not what he would have liked. But babies’ brains weren’t fully developed. He’d seen some amazing recoveries in newborns even more premature than this one.

Most had not been deprived of oxygen for this long, however.

He glanced at his watch. Five minutes since delivery.

“Stop pushing air for a moment and let’s see what we’ve got.”

The nurse lifted the BVM and the whole world stopped breathing. At least Dean did. Then there was a gasp. And the kick of a small leg.

Suddenly the baby’s face screwed up tight, and she let out a squeaked puff of air. Her lungs reinflated, and it became a full-fledged cry. Joined by another. Then another.

The sense of relief couldn’t have been greater if it had been Dean’s own flesh and blood lying on that metal table. Because at least the new father wouldn’t have to mourn two deaths. And the baby’s mum, still on a ventilator behind them, might be able to save more lives through organ donation, which was what her husband said she would have wanted.

“Let’s take her down to Special Care to do the rest of the workup.” The sooner they got her into one of the incubators, the better for her tiny lungs. They would monitor her for a while to make sure she kept breathing and remained stable.

The second they arrived on the ward, Dean noticed Jess’s sister was in the room, seated beside her baby’s incubator, but she didn’t have exam gloves on. Nor did she have her hands through the openings so she could touch her baby’s skin. Instead, she just sat there slumped forward. Glancing at the observation window behind him, he spied Jess. Her face was turned away as if she were staring at something down the hall. Maybe she just couldn’t face looking at her sister.

He hadn’t spoken with Jess since that disastrous scene last night at the pub. Why the hell had he pulled something like that?

He had no idea.

Turning his attention back to his newest charge, he directed the staff as they hooked the newborn up to the monitors and checked the baby’s oxygen levels. So far, things were looking more hopeful than they had for the last half-hour.

“Let me know if anything changes.”

Satisfied that everything was under control with this particular baby, he headed over to where Jess’s sister sat and greeted her. When he asked if she wanted to interact with the baby she shook her head. “I don’t want to do anything that would hurt her.”

Something in her face tightened, and her eyes strayed toward the window.

Ahhh … so she did know her sister was there. When he turned his attention in that direction, he noted that Jess was now looking at both of them. And something in her stricken expression made his chest ache. Surely they could put what had happened between them last night aside—for a little while, at least. He motioned her inside. Jess hesitated, and he wondered if she might ignore him for a second, but, finally, she pushed through the door and slowly headed their way.

“I don’t want her here.” The low, angry words made him blink. The ache in his chest tightened even further.

These two women might look alike, but he’d been right earlier. The resemblance began and ended there.

“She’s your baby’s aunt,” he said.

“And she caused this.” Her hand swept around the room. “All of it.”

“She caused all of these babies’ problems?” He knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her actually say the words. To say that she blamed Jess for what happened.

The woman’s head jerked as she looked up at him. “Of course not. But my baby is here because of her.”

When he realized Jess was close enough to have heard the ugly words, his heart hardened into a rock. The same rock he’d carried as a child when his father’s anger had come at him and his mum in the form of ridicule or through his fists. But when Jess made to turn around and flee, he reached out and caught her by the wrist before addressing Abbie again. “No. Your baby is here because she was born too early. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

The nurses working on the other baby threw them a curious glance, but he didn’t budge. Jess had worried herself sick over her niece as evidenced by her vigil over the incubator that first night. And the way she made sure the nursing staff had her mobile number and made them promise to ring her at the first hint of trouble.

It took repeated tugging before he got her close enough to slide his arm behind her back and hold her in place, and even then she looked as if she wanted to crawl under the nearest rock. Or the nearest incubator. But he was not going to let her run away the way he’d once done. She was going to stand and face this particular bully head-on. And unlike Dean when he was a child, she would not have to do that alone.

Right on cue, Abbie’s glance cut from one to the other before settling on the point of contact between the two of them. “Exactly what is going on here?”

Beneath his hand, Jess squirmed, and he was quite sure she wanted to ask him what the hell he thought he was doing. But she didn’t. Nor had she made the slightest effort to defend herself in the face of her sister’s ire.

Something swelled up inside of him—an urge to protect that was both familiar and foreign. Time to put someone firmly in her place. And he thought he knew the perfect way to do that. He was pretty sure Jess was going to kill him later, but he’d deal with that fallout when the time came.

He allowed his arm to drop, and when he glanced at her face, it was pink. Very pink. And it looked good on her.

One of the nurses came over to tell him the baby he’d worked on was settled in and seemed stable. “Good, thank you. I’ll keep an eye on her for a while.”

With that, the pair left the room, leaving just Dean, Jess and her sister.

Abbie again addressed them. “Does someone want to tell me what’s going on?”

Here went nothing.

“I take it Jess didn’t tell you?”

Two pairs of brown eyes swung to look at him.

“Tell me what?”

He draped his arm back around her shoulders. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Tell her.”

Jess’s mouth popped open, eyes widening in horror.

”What?”

“I’m sure they’ve wondered where you’ve been the last couple of nights.”

“Dean …” The warning in her voice was unmistakable. But he’d come too far to turn back now.

“Jess and I have been going out.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. They had been going out to the pub, after all. Her sister didn’t need to know that Jess had turned him down flat as far as anything else went.

“Going out. You expect me to believe that?”

Anger pumped through his veins at the open disbelief in Abbie’s voice. Suddenly, he was very sure he was doing the right thing.

And if this little farce got out? Well, worse things had been said about him—at least from what he’d heard here and there.

Leaning down to her ear, he whispered, “I’ll explain later. Just play along.”

Out loud, he said, “It’s recent. We’re keeping it quiet. For now.” Another half-truth. Their going out had been recent. And he was pretty sure Jess wanted it kept quiet.

Jess didn’t agree. Or disagree. But a little of the sneer left her sister’s face.

“So what you said at the party … All of those texts Martin got wasn’t about you trying—”

Jess finally found her voice. “I’ve told you that. Many times, Abbie. Martin and I have been over for a long, long time. He loves you. Not me.”

So it was true. Jess had once been engaged to Abbie’s husband. And Abbie thought her sister still had the hots for him.

He looked at her with new eyes. If he had to choose between the sisters right here right now, there would be no question as to who he’d go with.

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