The Doctor's Dating Bargain. Teresa Southwick

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       “You look beautiful.” And that was an understatement. She took his breath away. The more he’d thought about it in the past twenty-four hours, the more he really wanted her to say yes to his idea.

      Ben backed the SUV out of the space and headed for the exit that would take them to downtown Blackwater Lake.

      “Is there a reason we’re not going to Fireside here at the lodge?” she asked.

      He glanced over at her and smiled at her expression. “Yes. My criteria for tonight is a locals favorite because it’s always busy.”

      “I haven’t agreed to this insane charade yet.”

      “I’m aware of that. But I think I can win you over.”

      “Pretty confident, aren’t you?”

      “Power of positive thinking.” He grinned at her. “Plus whatever your decision, being seen together will keep everyone off balance and that can’t hurt.”

      “By ‘everyone’ you mean women.”

      “Men talk, too.” He parked and shut off the ignition, then got out and walked around to open the passenger door.

      About the Author

      TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.

      The Doctor’s Dating Bargain

      Teresa Southwick

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      To Maureen Child, Kate Carlisle, Christine Rimmer

      and Susan Mallery, the best plot group ever!

      Thanks for the friendship. And the fun. (Wine, too.)

      Chapter One

      “I’m in so much trouble.”

      Ben McKnight sat in the twilight shadows on the rear second-story deck of Blackwater Lake Lodge. The angry blonde who’d just stomped up the wooden stairs from the lush grounds below obviously was too caught up in her snit to notice him. She continued to mumble to herself as she paced back and forth in front of the redwood railing.

      “Is it me?” she grumbled. “Do I attract trouble like black pants pick up pet hair? Or lint? Or fuzzballs? What is my problem?”

      Then she lashed out with her foot and connected with one of the sturdy, upright posts anchoring the railing. It was a solid kick and after a few seconds the message traveled to her brain. When it got there, she blurted out, “Damn it! Now my foot’s broken.”

      Beautiful, angry women who talked to themselves were not in Ben’s wheelhouse, but broken bones he knew something about. He stood and walked out of the shadows into the circle of light cast by the property’s perimeter lights.

      “Maybe I can help.”

      She turned and gasped. “Good Lord, you startled me. Where the heck did you come from? I didn’t know anyone was here.”

      “I figured that. The talking to yourself sort of gave it away.”

      “That happens when you don’t want to talk to anyone else.” She limped closer. “Who are you?”

      “Ben McKnight. Doctor McKnight. I’m an orthopedic specialist at Mercy Medical Clinic.”

      “Call me crazy, but I didn’t think it was in a doctor’s job description to scare a person to death.”

      “True. Do no harm is the cornerstone of the Hippocratic Oath.”

      She pressed a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. “Then your bedside manner could use a little work, Doctor.”

      “Sorry.” He watched her put weight on the foot and wince. “For the record, I don’t recommend kicking things as a communication technique. Especially when you’re wearing four-inch heels. Next time I’d use my words if I were you.”

      “What am I? Five?” The tone was full of irritation that seemed completely self-directed. “Okay. That was childish.”

      “Would you like me to take a look at the foot?”

      “No. I’m fine. Completely over it. I’m calm and tranquil.”

      “I could tell,” he said dryly. “All the pacing, stomping and trash talk were a clear indication that you’re totally in your Zen place.”

      “I didn’t mean for anyone to see that. It’s been a bad day and when that happens, I come up here to decompress. Pretty much every night. My serenity spot isn’t normally occupied.”

      “Since I’m trespassing, the least I can do is listen.” It would give him a chance to look at her mouth.

      “Thanks, but I really have nothing to say.”

      “All evidence to the contrary. Look, whether or not you feel like talking, you should probably sit for a few minutes and elevate the foot. There could be swelling.”

      “Did you learn that in medical school?” She limped toward the two chairs nestled in the shadow of the lodge.

      Ben put his hand under her elbow, mostly to help take some of her weight, but partly to touch her. “Actually, that’s basic first aid. Every coach of every team I’ve been on since I was five has preached ice and heat for an injury.”

      “How many teams have you been on?”

      She lowered herself into the Adirondack chair and leaned back with a sigh. There was a matching naturalwood ottoman and he cupped her ankle in his hand, then lifted it, resting it on the flat surface before slipping off her high-heeled shoe.

      “A lot.” Ben sat on the ottoman beside hers.

      “What sports did you play?”

      “Soccer. Basketball. Football. My senior year I was on the Blackwater Lake High School team that won state about fifteen years ago.”

      “So you’re a local boy?”

      “Yes.”

      “How come I haven’t seen you around?” she asked.

      “I just got back.”

      “Do you have family in Blackwater Lake?”

      “Father. Older brother, younger sister.”

      “That qualifies.” She thought for a moment. “So, I can’t help being curious. You have family close by, which makes me wonder why you’re sitting in the shadows on the deck all by yourself. Did you have a dinner date here at the lodge and she left in a huff? Are you a guest here at the hotel? Or just stalking someone who is a guest?”

      He laughed. “I’m a guest. Staying here while I’m having a house built.”

      “Too old to live at home?”

      “Something like that,” he said.

      The clouds drifted away from the moon and the deck was bathed in silver light, giving Ben a better view of the blonde. She was prettier than he’d thought, with a small face and deep dimples. Her eyes looked blue, although he couldn’t tell the shade, and tilted up slightly at the corners. Her hair was straight, and cut in layers that framed her face and fell past her shoulders. Her arm through the light sweater she wore had felt delicate and small-boned. Although the heels gave the impression of height, she barely came up to his shoulder, which made her not so tall.

      Suddenly he wondered who he was talking to. He didn’t even know her name. On top of that, she was the one asking all the questions. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me why you’re so ticked off?”

      “There’s