Her Playboy's Secret

Born to a family that was always on the move, TINA BECKETT learned to pack a suitcase almost before she knew how to tie her shoes. Fortunately she met a man who also loved to travel, and she snapped him right up. Married for over twenty years, Tina has three wonderful children and has lived in gorgeous places such as Portugal and Brazil.

Living where English reading material is difficult to find has its drawbacks, however. Tina had to come up with creative ways to satisfy her love for romance novels, so she picked up her pen and tried writing one. After her tenth book she realised she was hooked. She was officially a writer.

A three-times Golden Heart finalist, and fluent in Portuguese, Tina now divides her time between the United States and Brazil. She loves to use exotic locales as the backdrop for many of her stories. When she’s not writing you can find her either on horseback or soldering stained-glass panels for her home.

Tina loves to hear from readers. You can contact her through her website or ‘friend’ her on Facebook.

Her Playboy’s

Secret

Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dear Reader,

Have you ever met someone and formed an instant opinion—only to be forced to revise that opinion once you get to know them? That’s the case when obstetrician Darcie Green meets gorgeous Lucas Elliot for the first time. Sparks fly, and she soon labels him a playboy of the worst kind, only interested in one thing. Darcie has no intention of joining the throngs of female patients and co-workers who seem to hang on his every word. What she doesn’t realise, however, is that Lucas uses his flirtatious charm to conceal a painful family secret and his real reason for becoming a midwife.

Thank you for joining Lucas and Darcie as they tiptoe around their attraction and try their best to avoid repeating the mistakes of the past. And maybe, just maybe, this very special couple will discover what love and loyalty really mean. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I loved writing it!

Love

Tina Beckett

Dedication

To those who dare to chase their dreams

Table of Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Dear Reader

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

Endpage

Copyright

PROLOGUE

One week ago

IT WAS A curse heard around the world. Or at least around the ward of the Melbourne Maternity Unit.

Everyone on the ward went silent and several heads cranked around to see what the normally easygoing Lucas Elliot could possibly be upset about.

Darcie Green already knew—had braced herself for this very moment, wondering what his reaction would be.

Now she knew.

Still facing the rotation roster hanging on the far wall, Lucas didn’t move for several seconds. Then, as if he couldn’t quite believe what his eyes were telling him, one finger went to the chart, dragging across it to follow the line that matched dates with names.

She cringed as he muttered yet again, slightly lower this time. A few sympathetic glances came her way as people went back to their jobs. Isla Delamere, her former flatmate—now heavily pregnant—mouthed, “Sorry,” as she tiptoed out of firing range.

A perfect beginning to a stellar day. She rolled her eyes.

Nine months in Australia and Darcie was just beginning to feel a part of the team. Except for Lucas’s very vocal reaction at having the rota that matched hers, that was. He’d evidently not seen the list until just now.

Did he even know she was standing not seven meters behind him at the nurses’ station? Probably not.

Then again, it was doubtful he would even care.

It wasn’t as if she felt any better about having to spend an entire rotation with the handsome senior midwife. She just hadn’t been quite as “loud” in expressing her displeasure.

Yes, she’d given him an earful about his periods of tardiness a few months back. But that had been no reason to call her an uptight, snooty, English…

Her eyes closed before the word formed, a flash of hurt working through her yet again.

Was the thought of being paired with her so hideous that he had to make sure everyone on the ward knew what he thought of her?

Evidently.

And why not? Her fiancé hadn’t minded letting a whole chapel full of wedding guests know that he’d fallen in love with her best friend, who just so happened to be her maid of honor. Tabitha had promptly run over to him, squealing with delight, and thrown herself into his arms, leaving Darcie standing there in shock.

And, yes, Robert had called her uptight as well, right before he’d dropped the bomb that had ended their engagement.

Lucas’s left hand went to the back of his neck, head bending forward as he massaged his muscles for a moment. When he finally turned around his eyes swept the area, going right past her before retracing his steps and pausing.

On her.

Then his left brow quirked, a rueful smile curving his lips. “Sorry. Heard that, did you?”

Was he serious? “I imagine there were very few who didn’t.”

He moved forward, until he was standing in front of her—all six feet of him. “I bet you did some name-calling of your own when you saw the rotation.” His smile faded. “Unless you requested we work this one together.”

Sure. That’s just what she would have done, left to her own devices.

She forced her chin up. “No, I didn’t request it, but it doesn’t bother me, if that’s what you mean. I’ve had worse assignments.” Before she could congratulate herself on keeping her response cool and measured, even when her insides were squirming with embarrassment, he gave her a quick grin.

“Touché, Dr. Green. Although since you almost had me fired the last time we interacted, I assume your ‘worse assignment’ didn’t fare quite as well.”

Since the assignment she’d been referring to had had to do with returning hundreds of wedding gifts courtesy of her ex, it would appear that way. “I don’t know about that. I think he feels quite lucky not to have to deal with my—how did you put it?—‘uptight English ways’ any more.”

Lucas’s gaze trailed over her face, but instead of whipping off a sharp retort he leaned in closer. “Then maybe you should consider some behavior modification courses.”

Although the words were made in jest—at least she thought they were—they still stung. Darcie pulled the edges of her cardigan around herself to combat the chill spreading from her heart to the rest of her body and then forced every muscle in her chin go utterly still, so he wouldn’t see the wobble. “You’re right. Maybe I should.”

His head tilted, and he studied her for a minute longer. He reached out a hand as if to touch her, before lowering it again. “Hey. Sorry. I was teasing.”

Maybe, but a part of what he’d said was true. Men did seem to find her “chilly and distant”—words her ex had also used to describe her during the last troubled weeks of their engagement. And he had been right. Compared to her, Tabitha was warm and bubbly and anything but distant.

Darcie couldn’t help the way she was made, though, could she? She dragged her thoughts back to the man in front of her. She hadn’t tried to be unreasonable during their confrontation a few months ago, whatever Lucas might have thought. Was asking someone to be prompt and to keep his mind on his job so unreasonable?

Well, she didn’t really have her mind on the job right now either.

“Don’t worry about it.” She fastened the buttons on her cardigan to keep from having to hold onto it and drew herself upright. “I’m sure, if we both remain professional, we’ll come off this rotation relatively unscathed.”

He gave her a dubious-looking smile. “I’m sure we will.”

As he strode away, his glance cutting back to the chart and giving a shake of his head that could only be described as resigned, she realized that was the problem. Neither of them seemed able to maintain a calm professionalism around the other.

Two fortnights. That’s all it was. Just because her rota corresponded with his, it didn’t mean she had to stick to his side like glue. She could do this.

Doubt, like a whisper of smoke that curled round and round until it encased its victim, made her wonder if her ex-fiancé’s cutting words were the hardest things she would ever face. She’d thought so at one time.

But as Lucas ducked around a corner and out of sight, she had a terrible suspicion she could be facing something much worse.

CHAPTER ONE

Present day

“CORA? WHAT’S WRONG, sweetheart?”

Lucas leaned a shoulder against the wall outside the birthing suite as his niece’s voice came over the phone, dread making his blood pressure rise in steady increments. Every time he thought his brother was through the worst of his grief, he’d go on yet another binge and undo all the work he’d accomplished during therapy.

He took a quick glance down the hall. The coast was clear.

Lucas had worked hard over the last week to make sure his personal life didn’t interfere with his job. As angry as he’d been at Darcie for giving him a public flogging over being late for work a couple of months ago, she’d been right. It was why he’d hired a childminder to help with Cora’s care. Burning the candle at both ends was not only unwise, it could also be dangerous for his patients.

Had his parents still been alive, they would have been happy to help. But it had been almost ten years since the car accident that had taken their lives.

His niece’s voice came through. “Nothing’s wrong. I just called to tell you what Pete the Geek did today.”

Cora’s Belgian sheepdog. Muscles he hadn’t been aware he’d contracted released all at once. “Can you tell me later, gorgeous? I’m working right now.”

“Oh, okay. Sorry, Uncle Luke. Are you coming for dinner tonight?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, sweetheart.” He smiled, unable to resist the pleading note in her voice. “What are we having?”

“Prawns!”

Cora’s birth was what had propelled him to change his career path from plastic surgery to midwifery. The lure of a glamorous life filled with beautiful women had faded away in a moment when Felix’s wife had gone into labor unexpectedly. Lucas had delivered his own niece in the living room of his brother’s home. As he’d stared down at the tiny creature nestled in his hands, Cora had blinked against the light and given a sharp wail of protest that had melted his heart. Seven years later, she still had the power to turn him into a soppy puddle of goo, especially since he and Felix were now the only family she had left.

He needed to get off the phone, but the ward was quiet—none of his patients were laboring at the moment. He cradled the device closer to his ear. “Prawns, eh? What’s the occasion?”

She giggled. “Just because.”

“You’re going to spoil me.” His chest tightened at how happy she sounded. He’d take this over those other phone calls any day.

“Oh,” his niece said, “make sure you bring some briquettes for the barbie. Daddy forgot them at the store.”

Felix had forgotten quite a few things lately. But at least he seemed to be pulling out of his current well of depression.

Footsteps sounded somewhere behind him, so he moved to end the conversation.

“Okay, Cora, I will. Looking forward to tonight.”

“Me too. Love you bunches.”

“Love you even more, sweetheart. Bye.” He ended the call, only to have the very person he’d been hoping not to encounter stalk past him, throwing an icy glare his way.

Lucas sighed. The woman did seem to pop up at just the wrong time. He slid the phone into his pocket and decided to go after her. He had no idea why, but he liked trying to get a rise out of her. Within five steps he’d caught up with her. Matching her pace, he glanced to the side.

Not good. The obstetrician’s lips were pressed together into a thin line, her expression stony.

He pushed forward anyway, throwing her what he hoped was a charming smile. “Were you looking for me?”

Her expression didn’t budge. “I was, but I can see you’re busy.”

“Just taking a short breather between patients. What was it you wanted?”

She glanced at him, her eyes meeting his for a mere second. “Is Isla scheduled to see you this week?”

Isla Delamere was one of his colleagues as well as a friend.

“Yes, did you want to be there for her appointment?”

Her chin edged up in a way he was coming to recognize. “I’d planned to be. She’s my patient as well.”

Okay, he’d gotten a rise out of her, but not quite the kind he’d been hoping for.

He moved ahead of her and planted himself in her path before she could reach the door to the staff lounge. Why he was bothering he had no idea, but something in him wanted to knock down a block or two of that icy wall she surrounded herself with. “Listen, Dr. Green—Darcie—I know we got off on the wrong foot somehow, but can we hit the reset button? We have three weeks of our rotation left. I’d like to make them pleasant ones, if at all possible. What do you say?”

The tight lines in her face held firm for another moment, and he wondered if she was going to strike him dead for daring to use her first name. Then her eyes closed, and she took a deep breath. “I think I might be able to manage that.” The corners of her mouth edged up, creating cute little crinkles at the outer edges of her eyes. “If we both try very hard.”

Something in Lucas’s chest shifted, and a tightening sensation speared through his gut. Had he ever seen the woman smile? Not that he could remember, and certainly never at him. The transformation in her face was…

Incredible.

He swallowed. That was something he was better off not thinking about.

Three weeks. He just had to get through the rest of this rotation. From what he understood, Dr. Green had only been seconded to MMU for a year, then she’d head back to England. He did some quick calculations. She had, what…three months left? Once their rotation was over she’d be down to two, which meant it was doubtful they’d be paired together again. He gave an internal fist pump, trying to put his whole heart into it. It came off as less than enthusiastic.

Because you still have these three weeks to get through.

He gave her another smile. “I think I can manage it as well.”

“Well, good. Now that that’s settled, when is Isla’s appointment?”

He checked his schedule. “Next Wednesday at two.”

Darcie pulled her phone out and scrolled through a couple of screens before punching some buttons. “I don’t have anyone scheduled at that time, so I’ll be there.” She gave him another smile—a bit wider this time—and the wobble in his chest returned. And this time he noticed the crinkles framed eyes that were green. A rich velvety color. Sparkling with life.

Her lips were softer too than they had been earlier. Pink, delicate, and with just a hint of shine.

The tightening sensation spread lower, edging beneath his waistband.

What the hell? Time to get out of here.

“Great. See you later.” He turned and started back the way he had come, only to have her voice interrupt him.

“Don’t forget to call for a consult if anything unusual comes up.”

He stiffened at the prim tone. “Yes, I know the protocol, thank you.”

When she didn’t respond, he turned around and caught something…hurt?…in the depths of those green eyes, and maybe even a hint of uncertainty. In a flash, though, it winked out, taking with it any trace of her earlier smile and, very possibly, their newborn peace accord.

While that bothered him on a professional level, it was what he’d seen in her expression in that unguarded moment that made him want to cross over to her and try to understand what was going on in her head. He didn’t. Instead, he chose to reiterate his comment in a less defensive way. “I’ll ring if I need you.”

Then he walked away. Without looking back. Praying the next weeks sped by without him having to make that call.

That man should wear a lab coat. A long one.

Darcie tried not to stare at the taut backside encased in dark jeans as he made his way back down the hall, but it was hard. No matter how much she tried to look anywhere but there, her peripheral vision was still very much engaged, keeping track of him until he finally turned down a neighboring corridor.

The thread of hurt from his curt response still lingered, just waiting for her to tug on it and draw it tighter. Why had he acted so put out to have her assistance on a case?

Was it the professional rivalry that sometimes went on between midwives and obstetricians?

She sagged against the wall, pressing her fingers against her temples and rubbing in slow, careful circles to ward off the migraine that was beginning to chomp at the wall of her composure.

What was it about Lucas that put her on edge?

The fact that he was a man in a field dominated by women?

Or was it the fact that all the expectant mums who came through the doors clamored to be put on his patient list? Despite the run-ins they’d had over the past nine months, Senior Midwife Lucas seemed quite capable of doing his job with an ease and efficiency that only enhanced his good looks.

And they were good.

She tried to dredge up an unflattering image, like the time he’d come in late for work, dragging his fingers through his wavy hair, his rumpled clothes the same ones he’d had on when he’d left the previous afternoon. Nope. He’d been just as attractive then as the first time she’d laid eyes on him.

Ugh. She disliked him for that most of all.

Or maybe it was all those secretive phone calls she’d caught him making when he’d thought he’d been alone. Oh, those were definitely over the top. So many of them, right in the middle of his shift.

And he wondered why she was outraged when he came in late or took little side breaks to indulge in whispered conversations.

Could she be jealous?

She straightened in a flash. No! Just because Robert had decided she wasn’t enough “fun”, it didn’t mean she should go ballistic over any man who wanted to indulge in a bit of pillow talk on the phone.

Maybe it wouldn’t bother her so much if he didn’t use the same flirty tones when in conversation with the MMU staff and his patients. The tone he turned on this “Cora” person—a kind of I’m-not-willing-to-commit-but-I-still-want-you-at-my-beck-and-call attitude that grated on Darcie’s nerves. Especially after the way her ex had led her down the rosy path, only to dump her for her maid of honor—who, actually, was a lot of fun to be with.

She sighed and went into the lounge to get a strong cuppa that she hoped would relieve the steady ache in her head and keep it from blooming into something worse.

As soon as she moved into the space, she knew it was a mistake. Lucas, it seemed, was the main topic of conversation among the cluster of four nurses inside.

“I swear one of his patients this morning had on false eyelashes. While in labor!” Marison Daniels blinked rapidly, as if trying to imitate what the woman had done. They all laughed.

If Darcie had hoped to slide by them, grab her tea and tiptoe back out of the room unseen, that hope was dashed when the nurse next to Marison caught Darcie’s eye and gave the jokester a quick poke in the ribs with her elbow. The laughter ceased instantly.

Oh, Lord. Her face burned hotter than the kettle she’d just switched on.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t interrupt,” Marison assured her. “I was just headed back to the ward.”

The others all echoed the same thing.

With a scurry of feet and tossing of rubbish, the four headed out.

Just what she needed. To be reminded that she was still very much an outsider when it came to certain things—like being allowed to let her hair down with the rest of them.

No, the pattern had been set from the moment she’d got off the plane. Oh, she’d made friends and people were nice enough, but to let her in on their little jokes? That didn’t happen very often, except with Isla.

Worse, she’d even overheard Lucas making fun of her English accent while on one of his phone calls to Cora. It hadn’t been in a mean way, he’d just repeated some of her colloquialisms with a chuckle, but it made her feel self-conscious any time she opened her mouth around him. So she made sure she spoke to him as little as possible. And now that they were sharing a rota, she was still struggling to maintain that silence.

Not that it was going to be possible forever.

She could still picture the confident way he strode through the hallways of the ward, his quick smile making itself known whenever he met a patient. She wrinkled her nose. More than one expectant mum would have probably given her left ovary to bat long sexy lashes and claim the child she was carrying was Lucas Elliot’s.

Including his current paramour, Cora?

Probably, but not her. She was done with men like him.

Her fiancé had been handsome and attentive. Until he hadn’t been. Until he’d grown more and more distracted as their engagement had progressed.

Now she knew why.

And Lucas had Cora. She was not about to smile and flirt with a man who was taken. She wasn’t Tabitha.

She packed leaves into the tea ball and dropped it into a chunky mug—a gift from her dad to remind her that her favorite footballers resided in England and to not let herself get swept away by a handsome face, especially one who lived halfway round the world.

Lucas’s quirked brow swam before her eyes, and she let out an audible groan, even as she poured boiling water into her cup. No matter how good looking he was or how elated she’d been to see the momentary confusion cross his expression when she’d smiled at him, she did not need to become like False-Eyelash Lady—the one Marison had carried on about.

There’d be a real corker of a reaction if someone caught her mooning after him. Or staring after him, like she’d done earlier.

She bounced her tea ball in the water and watched as the brew grew darker and darker, just like her thoughts. What she needed was to stay clearheaded. Like he’d said, they had three more weeks together.

He wanted them to be pleasant ones. She finished adding milk and sugar to her cup and then discarded the used tea leaves, rinsing the ball and leaving it on a towel for the next person who needed it.

“Pleasant” she could do, but that had to be the extent of it. Maybe she should be grateful for all those calls to Cora…maybe she should even hope the relationship stayed the course. At least for the next few weeks.

Which meant she would not go out of her way to put him at ease or cut him any slack if he came in late again. Neither would she give the man any reason to look at her with anything other than the casual curiosity his eyes normally held.