His Made-to-Order Bride. Jessica Matthews

the moment he’d seen Ellen McGraw, he’d gone positively nuts over her. He’d been filling in as a locum for his friend while he’d gone on his honeymoon. Ellen had been in town for a medical records convention, had developed a horrible case of laryngitis and dropped in for a prescription. During the course of the following weeks, he’d fallen hopelessly in love. Life simply couldn’t have got any better, or so he’d thought.

      His best-laid plans fell apart when he’d wanted to introduce her to his parents. Without warning, she’d sent him the proverbial ‘Dear John’ letter. Before he’d been able to convince her that her blue-collar background wouldn’t matter to his blue-blooded family, she’d disappeared, lock, stock and barrel, from her apartment. No one had known a forwarding address, or if they had, they’d refused to divulge it.

      During the subsequent months, he’d hired a private investigator, but leads had been non-existent. J.D. had secured a job in Mercer’s ER and, by sheer luck, discovered that her trail had ended in the exact same place. Unfortunately, she’d been fatally injured in a car accident some months before his arrival. If not for the skill of Tristan Lockwood, her child—his son, Daniel—wouldn’t have survived either.

      His existence since then revolved around caring for the legacy Ellen had left behind and establishing his career. He had little time for anything else and truthfully, he liked it that way.

      As for needing a wife, one certainly would have come in handy when Daniel had been an infant. He’d even contemplated entering into a marriage of convenience with Ellen’s friend, Beth, but she’d been too much in love with Tristan to settle for second best.

      In the end, he organised his life as best he could. A fair number of people criticised him for not allowing Beth and Tristan to adopt Daniel, as they’d planned before J.D. arrived on the scene. Katie, however, stepped in to help, without passing judgement and without offering unwelcome advice. She had been—and still was—a godsend.

      His household arrangements had worked well since the day he’d brought Daniel home and consequently, he didn’t intend to fix what wasn’t broken. Yes, there were times when he felt like something in his life was missing—after Daniel had gone to bed and he was alone with his newspaper and the television remote—but that wasn’t a good excuse to get married.

      His mother would simply have to understand.

      His resolve strengthened, he flung open the door and came face to face with Katie.

      She visibly jumped, her brown eyes wide with surprise. ‘Don’t do that,’ she scolded, tossing her nutmeg-colored ponytail over one shoulder. ‘You scared the daylights out of me.’

      ‘Who did you think would be in here?’ he asked, amused by her reaction.

      ‘I wasn’t expecting to find you in the doorway,’ she returned. ‘No one has seen you since your mom left fifteen minutes ago. I assumed you were in here licking your wounds.’

      ‘Hardly,’ he said dryly. ‘I’ve developed a tough enough shell that my mother can’t inflict any damage.’

      ‘Ah,’ she said knowingly. ‘Then you must have been fantasising over the future Mrs Doctor Berkley.’

      ‘Regardless of what my mother believes, Daniel and I are doing just fine. I’ll find the future Mrs Berkley when I’m good and ready. I won’t be railroaded into marriage.’

      Scepticism crossed her elfin features. ‘Your mother sounded very serious. She won’t let you off the hook.’

      He groaned. ‘Please. Mom has already referred to me as a good catch. I can’t handle any more fishing references.’

      ‘You don’t want to hear about how there are lots of fish in the sea to choose from? Or how if you don’t act, the one you want will get away? Then there’s the one about catching as many as you can and throwing out the ones you don’t want.’

      ‘No, I don’t.’

      She snapped her fingers. ‘Darn. In any case, Virginia’s right. You’re a very eligible bachelor in this community.’

      ‘Yeah, well, eligible or not, I have patients to see.’

      ‘Not any more. Marty took care of Mrs Natelson and her toe. You, on the other hand, have just received an important summons from Allan Yates. Delivered personally, I might add.’

      His disposition improved instantly. ‘Really? I’ll bet it’s over the proposal I gave him last week.’

      ‘Probably so. Anyway…’ she stepped forward to straighten the collar of his white lab coat ‘…he wants you there as soon as possible. Too bad you’re not wearing a power suit today instead of scrubs.’

      ‘I want to impress him with my proposal, not my appearance,’ he commented, looking down on her from his six-foot height.

      ‘I know, but it wouldn’t hurt to look like the distinguished head of Mercer’s Emergency Services that you are. Maybe you should change back into your street clothes.’

      He shook his head. ‘What he sees is what he gets. This distinguished head doesn’t sit behind a desk all day.’

      ‘Do you at least have a comb?’

      He dug in his hip pocket and removed a small black plastic comb. Using his reflection in the window as a guide, he straightened his sandy-colored hair. ‘Wish me luck.’

      She displayed crossed fingers on both hands. ‘You got it. Go and dazzle him with your statistics and your wit.’

      ‘I’ll do my best.’

      Ten minutes later, as J.D. was seated across from Allan Yates in the chief CEO’s office, he was once again reminded of why he hated hospital politics. He preferred sticking to what he knew best—medicine—and leaving the diplomacy and posturing to the statesmen.

      However, as Katie had mentioned, his job as chief of Mercer Memorial’s Emergency Services Department included those administrative duties he disliked. He had to play the politicking game—within reason—to get what he wanted.

      Right now, he wanted to revamp his department to include the formation of a minor emergency centre—a place where the lesser emergencies could be treated without tying up rooms designed for more critical situations.

      As he surveyed the professionally decorated room with its plush carpeting, hand-crafted bookcases and opulent furnishings, he refused to feel inadequate in his clean but comfortable scrubs. He led by action and example, not by decree, and he was proud of it.

      Allan cleared his throat, clasped his hands together and placed them on top of his oak desk. ‘You’ve prepared an impressive document, J.D.’

      J.D. allowed himself a small smile, although inwardly he was grinning from ear to ear. After months of research, hours of organising facts and figures and a week of waiting for Yates’s summons, the praise was like music to his ears.

      ‘Thank you.’

      ‘You realise, however, that another department has also requested the same area to expand their operation. My wife, Candace, has written a thorough proposal, too.’

      J.D. didn’t doubt his claim for one second. Candace Yates had had the good fortune to have her husband’s insight in preparing her case.

      ‘This puts me in quite a dilemma,’ Allan continued. ‘I usually give the board my recommendation—point out the pros and cons—but this time I’m between a rock and a hard place. I’d hate for someone to accuse me of showing favouritism.’

      Although J.D. understood the man’s quandary, he douted the sincerity of Allan’s apologetic look. Allan was a personable man in his late forties who possessed a shrewd head for business, but whenever his termagant of a wife wanted something she was rumoured to make his life miserable until he granted her request.

      Having seen Candace’s modus operandi at first-hand, J.D. didn’t discount the