Hot-Shot Doc, Secret Dad. Lynne Marshall

      JULIE WAITED TO FACE the guy who’d knocked her up thirteen years ago.

      “Ms. Sterling?” The young and attractive medical clinic receptionist called her name as if it were a crowded waiting room.

      Julie was the only one sitting there, being that it was almost lunchtime. “Yes?”

      “Dr. Montgomery will be with you as soon as he finishes with his last patient. He apologizes for running late. The appointment turned out to be a little more involved than expected.”

      “Thanks for letting me know.” Julie’s nerves were twisted to the point of breaking anyway over the thought of facing the man who’d once changed the entire course of her life. Now she’d get to balance on this tightrope over the roiling anxiety a while longer. Oh, joy.

      Her goal was to not let on how desperate she was for the job. But how would she control these butterflies over facing him again after all these years? Short answer, she had to. She’d do whatever was necessary to get this job. Anything for her son.

      What was that old saying about how you could never go home again? Well, Cattleman Bluff, Wyoming, population twenty thousand, was the last place in the world Julie had expected to wind up. Her parents had bought her a ticket on a one-way train out of town when she’d barely been eighteen.

      Now here she was applying for a job with a man she never, ever wanted to see again for a dozen different reasons that all boiled down to one in particular. But as a single mother, she’d do whatever it took to make a better life for her son, James. Twelve years old, with thirteen breathing down his neck come May, all hormones and bad choices, and already getting into trouble back in Los Angeles. James needed strong men in his life to set him straight, and the military school in Laramie seemed the best place for now.

      Guilt stabbed at her conscience as it had for years. She’d made a rash decision at a tender age and had stuck to her guns no matter how hard it had been. Problem was, with James going wild, and now with the death of her parents, her bull-headed strength had run out. It was crunch time. After thirteen years of running, fighting and insisting she could manage on her own, she’d finally realized she needed backup. From a man.

      The school was willing to take James midsemester. Of course, with his being there, that meant she’d be living and working over a hundred miles away from her son, but that was another sacrifice she’d have to make.

      The school cost a lot, and the small monetary windfall from her parents helped tremendously toward that. All she had to do was cover their personal living expenses. Thankfully, she had a solid profession to rely on … if she got this job, that was.

      If she didn’t, she’d try for something closer to the school, but her parents had left her their home in the will, and these days only a fool would turn down free housing, even if it required moving to a new state.

      Julie fought off another ripple of guilt and regret for the messy relationship they’d had—how her careless actions had been at the heart of it, but, even before, her parents’ expectations for her future had been overbearing—and the fact they’d never mended it before their horrible accident at Christmas. Deciding to get out of the extralong winter, her parents had set out driving to Florida and had hit a patch of black ice a mere twenty miles from home. A swell of emotion built deep in her chest and pushed against her throat. She swallowed hard around it. All the years they’d lost because of the stubborn Sterling spirit, which worked both ways, theirs and hers. James had never really gotten to know his grandparents either … Now her eyes were welling up. She couldn’t let this happen here. Especially not now. She had to stay strong.

      Julie glanced at her watch and blinked the blur away. It was twenty minutes past her appointment time. She’d cut the doctor some slack, and use the gift of time to pull herself together.

      Being a nurse practitioner, she understood how one appointment could turn into something much more than routine—a patient might come in for a diabetes check and their blood pressure would be out of control, or they’d happen to mention that they’d been having dizzy spells on their way out the door, or that the cut on their foot they’d neglected to mention before that moment had red streaks running up the leg. While working for LA County medical clinics, she’d learned anything was possible when dealing with health and patients.

      Or, it could be that she was the last person on earth Trevor Montgomery wanted to see …

      Julie took a deep breath to steady her crawling-out-of-control jitters. Focusing away from the reality of facing her fears and the downright sadness of losing her parents, and on to the task at hand. Getting the job. No matter what. And that ushered in a second wave of riotous anticipation. Of all the people in the world to need a job from.

      She shook her head. Would Trevor even remember her after thirteen years?

      To distract herself, she glanced around. The cozy waiting room was typical of many she’d been in, with the exception of having a cowboy rustic charm. Several oil paintings of cattle drives filled the walls. What else could she expect from Cattleman Bluff? The couches and chairs were in earthy tones, browns and beige with pops of orange, and made with natural wood, sanded and varnished, smoothed to perfection for armrests. The choice of magazines was decidedly Wyoming slanted, too. Out West Today. Wyoming Home. Western Living. Not to mention the huge cowboy boot–shaped umbrella holder beside the front door.

      It had to be thirty degrees outside in mid-February. Back home in California, it seemed to be an endless spring, no matter what month. Fortunately her mother had left behind her warm winter coat and rubber-soled, faux fur–lined boots. Though a size too big, they’d do for today, and wearing them helped Julie remember her mother’s softer, warmer side, the one she’d rarely showed as Julie had gotten older. Snapping away from where those thoughts might lead, she pondered how quickly a person could get used to the mild weather out on the West Coast. Had she turned into a weather wuss?

      “Ms. Sterling, Doctor will see you now.” The perky and blonde twenty-something receptionist held the door open. Julie’s heart pounded as if she’d be meeting the president of the United States and would have to deliver his speech to the nation at the last minute, or something.

       Get a hold of yourself. Trevor’s just a human being, not God. Though he does seem to hold your future in his hands today.

      What was that old trick to help settle nerves—picture them naked? It didn’t take long for her memory to click in with a bigger-than-life naked-jock image.

      Oh, no, not a good idea. Now she could add flushed cheeks to the ever-growing list of mounting terrors. The spiteful image flashed again as she fumbled to pick up her purse. Funny how some moments stuck in the mind as if they’d happened yesterday.

      “This way.” Blonde Rita, the receptionist, walked with a distinct sway down a short hall. Out of the blue, Julie wondered if Trevor was now married with children.

      They passed four patient-exam rooms toward a modest office at the end, gulp, where Trevor Montgomery, the once-gifted high school athlete, exceptional student, all-around dreamy guy—not to mention the man who’d taken her virginity—waited.

      Julie did one last futile battle with the panic jetting along her nerve endings, then threw in a quick prayer to help her get through the interview.

      Trevor stood behind a huge rustic weathered wood ranch-style desk, smiling and reaching for her hand when she finally had the guts to look up. Tall, as she’d remembered, dark hair, piercing brown, almost black, eyes thanks to distant Native American heritage on his mother’s side. Handsome as ever. She stopped in her tracks and took him all in.

      She couldn’t very well stand there gawking, so she tore away her gaze, and glanced around the office. Matching woven iron lamps with stretched cowhide shades said classic cowboy chic through and through.

      The steer antlers that were thankfully missing in the waiting room were mounted on the wall behind his desk, like a crown, exactly where he stood. No white coat for him. No, he wore a blue pinstriped, long-sleeved, button-down, Western-style shirt, open at the neck, no tie.