To The Doctor: A Daughter. Marion Lennox

      

      “I don’t want a baby!”

      “I imagine you don’t. But you have one.”

      “This is ridiculous.” He rose, but he didn’t come around the desk. This whole scenario was a nightmare. And any minute he’d wake up. Please…

      He took a deep breath, searching for control. Searching for sanity. Glancing down at his appointment list, he registered her name.

      “You’re Gemma Campbell?”

      “That’s right. Fiona’s sister.”

      Her tone was almost uninterested, and for the first time he realized why. She was here to hand over a baby and leave, he thought with a jolt of sick dismay. “And…and Fiona told you this…this baby was mine.”

      “She did.” For the first time he saw the glimmer of a smile behind the weariness. “Though I might have guessed. Have a look for yourself.” And she lifted the blanket away from the baby’s head.

      It was all he could do not to gasp.

      Dear Reader,

      I do like handing my doctors’ interesting cases, and I do like dreaming up fantastic consultations. So I thought, what if… (“what if” are my favorite author words) my gorgeous heroine—a woman Nate’s never met in his life—arrived for a consultation, but instead of offering Nate something ordinary like an infected toe, she’s handing him a baby. “Here you are, Doctor—here’s your daughter!”

      I had a heap of fun writing To the Doctor: A Daughter. I hope you have as much fun reading it.

      I’d love your feedback—contact me through my Web site at www.marionlennox.com

      Happy reading!

      Marion Lennox

      To the Doctor: A Daughter

      Marion Lennox

      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER TEN

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘SHE’S your baby.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’ Maybe he hadn’t heard right. It was the end of a long day and Dr Nate Ethan was thinking of the night to come. This woman was his last patient and then he was free.

      Donna would be waiting. That was a good thought. Tonight was the Terama Jazzfest and he was never too tired for jazz.

      Meanwhile, it looked as if he had to cope with a nutcase.

      ‘Excuse me?’ he said again, and forced himself to focus. Nutcase or not, she might be in trouble. He didn’t know who she was and with unknown patients nothing should be assumed.

      So concentrate…

      She could well be a single mum, he decided, noting the absence of a wedding ring. After six years of country medicine he noticed such things almost without trying. She was in her late twenties, he guessed, though the strain on her face made her look older. Faded jeans, a T-shirt that was old and misshapen and the knot of frayed ribbon catching back her mass of black curls suggested financial hardship.

      What else? She looked as if she was in trouble, he thought. Her dark eyes—brown, almost black—were made even darker by shadows of fatigue, and her finely boned face was etched with worry.

      ‘How can I help you?’ he asked, his tone gentling. Hell, they had it hard, these single mums. A little boy, maybe four years old, was clinging to a fistful of her T-shirt, and she carried a baby that looked no more than a few weeks old.

      ‘I’m not here to ask for help.’ Her tone was as weary as her face. She seemed like someone at the end of her tether. ‘I’m here to hand over what’s yours.’ She lifted the baby toward him. ‘This is Mia. She’s four weeks old and she’s yours.’

      Silence. The silence went on and on, stretching into the evening. Outside a kookaburra started laughing in the clump of eucalypts hanging over the river and the laughter seemed crazily out of place.

      Would he help?

      Gemma was feeling sick. Everything—her entire future—hung on what happened in the next few minutes.

      Was he as irresponsible as her sister?

      He looked…nice, she decided. But, then, Fiona had looked ‘nice’ and where had that got her?

      Maybe, like Fiona, he was too good-looking for his own good. He was seriously handsome, in a way that could make him a candidate for the next James Bond movie. Tall, with great bone structure and a deeply tanned complexion, his size didn’t make him seem aloof. His burnt red hair was coiling forward over his brow in an endearing twist, and his deep green eyes sort of twinkled even when he wasn’t smiling.

      He had great bones, she decided—the sort of bones that made a girl want to…

      Whoa. She wasn’t going down that road. Never again. That was the sort of feeling that got her into this mess in the first place. The sort of feeling Fiona had had…

      And on the other side of the desk…

      She was a nutcase, Nate decided. Heck, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate.

      Donna was waiting.

      ‘Um… I’ve never met you before,’ he ventured, and she nodded.

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then how—’

      ‘Hey, she’s not my baby,’ she told him, meeting his eyes and holding them with a look that was direct and strong. Challenging. ‘She’s yours.’

      ‘I don’t—’

      ‘My sister is…’ She caught herself at that and she bit her lip while the shadows under eyes seemed to darken. ‘My sister was Fiona Campbell. She was a locum here until last December. Do you remember her?’

      His eyes widened. Fiona Campbell. He certainly remembered Fiona, and he remembered her with a certain amount of horror. ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘You went to bed with her?’

      To bed. His gut gave a stupid lurch. You went to bed with her. Fiona…

      Dear God, this was the stuff of nightmares. ‘Yes, but—’

      ‘There you are, then,’ she said wearily. ‘One and one make three. Fiona had your baby a month ago and she died the day after delivery.’

      This time the silence seemed to reach into eternity. The woman didn’t say another word—just sat and watched, giving him time to take it in. The child by her side was silent as well. The little boy held onto her shirt fiercely, as if keeping in contact with her was the only important thing in his life. And the baby was sound asleep, nestled in a swathe of pink blankets and oblivious to the world around her.

      Fiona Campbell.

      Hell.

      She’d been the flightiest locum. Graham, his uncle and his partner in this tiny country medical practice, had been ill and Nate had been desperate. Fiona had been the only doctor who’d answered his advertisement.

      So she’d bubbled into his life, sparkling with life and totally fascinating. She had been gorgeously, stunningly beautiful.

      She had also been a little