Bluegrass Baby. Judy Duarte

breaking the ice and gaining an advantage. But tonight, the words came easy. “You look pretty, Milla.”

      She flushed at his comment, then smiled, flashing him two dimples he could get used to seeing. “Thank you.”

      The women Kyle usually dated were fully aware of their beauty, their sexuality. Milla, although just as lovely and attractive, wasn’t as sure of herself, which, for some reason, pleased him, making her all the more appealing.

      She took a sip of wine, then ran her tongue across her bottom lip.

      A surge of heat shot through Kyle’s bloodstream, arousing him, tempting him. She glanced again at the photos on the wall, completely oblivious, it seemed, of the effect she was having on him.

      Kyle leaned back in his chair, unbalanced by his arousal and by the effect she had on him. The pretty midwife had stirred a powerful hunger, one that dinner at Melinda’s wouldn’t sate.

      It was early yet, and there was no reason for him to believe the evening would end with anything more than a handshake. Which would be a shame. He couldn’t remember being this attracted to a woman in a long time.

      She set her wineglass on the linen-covered table and looked at him. Her big brown eyes bore evidence of a trying day.

      “What’s the matter?”

      She fingered the cocktail napkin that rested under her wineglass, rolling the edge then unrolling it. “I almost didn’t come inside.”

      “Are you sorry you’re here?” He hoped not. Milla had stirred something inside of him. And not just sexual attraction. There were other things going on, too. Admiration. Respect. Milla Johnson was a dedicated professional who had a genuine concern for her patients. And she had a depth to her that the other women he dated didn’t have.

      “I ran into Joe Canfield outside.” Her voice softened, and she looked at him with Bambi eyes that made him want to tear into the guy who’d upset her.

      “He wasn’t very nice,” she added.

      Kyle reached across the table, taking Milla’s hand—a move that probably surprised them both. But he quickly recovered. “Don’t let that guy get to you. You didn’t do anything wrong, and the judge ought to be able to see through him.”

      She nodded, but her vulnerability smacked him upside the heart, making him wish he could protect her from all the things that went bump in the night. His soft side didn’t surface very often, yet it struck with a vengeance tonight.

      Before they finished their drinks, the hostess led them to a quiet booth in the dining room and handed them menus.

      The waiter brought a basket of warm bread and placed it on the table. Kyle welcomed the interruption. And as he reached for the golden-brown loaf, Milla did the same. Their hands brushed, shocking him with a tingle of heat that lasted long after the brief contact. Neither of them commented, yet her silent gaze told Kyle she’d felt it, too.

      They remained pensive for a while, engrossed in the entrées Melinda’s offered, Kyle supposed, although he was far more interested in getting through dinner and seeing what pleasures the rest of the evening might bring.

      Milla set her menu to the side of her place setting and leaned slightly forward. “What made you decide to be a doctor?”

      Her question took him aback, since most people asked why he’d chosen pediatrics, a specialty that surprised anyone who’d known him growing up.

      Kyle had always been prone to mischief, a result of being one of Billy Bingham’s brats, he supposed. As a kid, he’d gotten a reputation for snaking his way out of trouble. But there didn’t seem to be any use going into that.

      “When I was fifteen, a couple of buddies and I went on an overnight campout at a lake near the house where I grew up. We barbecued hamburgers for dinner.” Kyle studied the flickering candle that sat in the middle of the linen-draped table. He didn’t like to talk about that day, maybe because the memory still clawed at his chest and throat.

      Milla leaned forward, listening. Casting some kind of healing balm on the pain he’d harbored and the utter helplessness he’d felt as he watched a strong, robust kid dwindle away, plagued by an unknown disease.

      “My best friend, Jimmy Hoben, liked his meat rare,” Kyle continued.

      She didn’t respond, but her eyes shared her compassion, her sympathy, her understanding.

      “A few days later, Jimmy got sick. Really sick. And the doctors had a hell of a time figuring out what was wrong with him. Even after they realized his illness was caused by e-coli, the damage had been done. And in spite of everything they did, every medication and treatment they tried, Jimmy didn’t make it.”

      “I’m sorry,” she said.

      “It was a tough thing for everyone, I guess. Especially a kid like me.” His voice bore the huskiness of emotion he’d tried to bury years ago. “I couldn’t figure out why modern medicine couldn’t heal my friend. Or others like him. In fact, I was so determined to get some answers, that I went to the library and hit the books, trying to learn everything I could about e-coli and the effect it had on the human body. That focus triggered a deep interest in medicine. And research.”

      She nodded in understanding, but maybe that’s because she hadn’t known him growing up. Hadn’t known the hell-raiser he’d once been.

      When he told his high school guidance counselor that he’d decided to go to medical school, the guy had been shocked. But in spite of the counselor’s disbelief, Kyle made a dramatic academic turnaround, which surprised the entire teaching staff, as well as all of his friends. Within one semester, his teachers and peers were amazed when the campus bad boy aced every class.

      “I found my niche in human biology and anatomy,” he said.

      “So you decided to be a doctor.”

      “Sort of.” He shrugged, then slid her a crooked grin. “Actually, when my residency is done, I’m going into research.”

      “Around here?” she asked.

      “No. Back in Boston. I have no intention of staying in Merlyn County longer than the time it takes me to complete my residency.” He could have explained that his decision to stay here that long was a way of compromising with his mother, of making her happy until he moved on for good.

      His playboy daddy had provided well for his illegitimate kids, particularly Kyle. And for that reason, Kyle had been able to attend Harvard medical school. His mom hoped that he would eventually make his home in Merlyn County and take up his rightful place with the Binghams.

      But Kyle had no intention of elbowing into his father’s family.

      “That’s too bad,” Milla said. “You’re a great pediatrician and have a lot to offer the community.”

      He shrugged. “Maybe so. But I can do more good at a research hospital.”

      “To study pediatric pathology?”

      “Kids shouldn’t die before they get a chance to live.” Kyle didn’t usually open up like this, but for some reason it felt right sharing memories and dreams with Milla. Dinner was over before he knew it.

      As the waiter took the last of their plates away, Kyle studied the woman across from him. The candlelight glistened off the strands of her hair, bathing her in a romantic glow. Tonight, more than ever, she had some kind of blood-pumping effect on him.

      She declined coffee and dessert, which was fine with him. But he wasn’t ready for the evening to end, not even after he’d paid the bill and walked her out to where she’d parked her car.

      His hands ached to reach out and pull her near. But he waited, biding his time until Milla gave him reason to believe she would welcome his touch. He wasn’t sure why, but this particular woman made him feel like an awkward adolescent with a bad haircut and a ketchup stain on his white T-shirt. And he hadn’t felt that way since