Pregnant By The Playboy Surgeon. Lucy Ryder

with mortification at the memory of their last two encounters and she hoped she could keep from humiliating herself a third time. What must he be thinking? she wondered. First, that she was clumsy and blurted out whatever came into her head; and second that she’d heard that deep bedroom voice of his and everything in her had come to a screeching halt.

      She’d looked up into moss-green eyes surrounded by long, dark lashes and her mind had gone blank as a slate. And then he’d asked her about the wound and she’d replied with something so inane even a second-year med student would have blinked.

      She just hoped no one had noticed and cringed because she knew everyone had. Especially him. Oh God, she thought as a fresh wave of embarrassment crawled up the back of her neck. She’d stood there frozen as if she was a teenager again and had found herself face to face with the hottest bad boy in school.

      Realizing she was still standing there, Dani spun away to make a quick escape. She was almost through the doors when his voice—deep and dark and sinful—reached her.

      “Dr. Stevens?”

      Tempted to ignore him, she shoved aside the primitive urge to run and turned slowly, giving herself time to school her expression. She was a thirty-year-old professional, she reminded herself. She sucked in a steadying breath, hoping he couldn’t see her inner chaos and terrified because she’d never been any good at hiding her emotions.

      She just hoped she could keep her mouth from blurting out embarrassing inanities. “Yes?”

      His gaze swept over her face to linger on her mouth and for one horrifying instant she thought he would mention their first meeting or...or even worse...ask about her unprofessional behavior in the ER.

      Actually, no. Worse would be that he somehow knew that her first impulse had been to check her hair and straighten her posture. Fortunately she’d done neither. Unfortunately she’d embarrassed herself and surprised her colleagues by staring at him as though he’d popped through a tear in the space time continuum dressed like a Roman centurion.

      Heck, even that wouldn’t have shocked her as much.

      He lifted a hand and, startled, she jerked back a couple of steps until her back hit the wall, her eyes wide. Embarrassment crawled up the back of her neck when she realized he was just scratching his jaw.

       Way to totally overreact there, Dani.

      She hastily glanced around to see if anyone had seen that clumsy panicked retreat and nearly sagged with relief when she saw that no one was paying them any attention.

       Get a damn grip, Dani.

      Concern darkened his gaze. “You okay?”

      “Of course,” she managed coolly. “Just in a hurry to...uh...” She gestured behind her. “Get back to the ER.”

      After a short pause he nodded, his eyes dropping briefly to the pulse tapping out frantic Morse code in her throat. She had to battle an overwhelming urge to cover that revealing little sign of agitation.

      “Anything I should know about the boy?”

      His deep voice, pouring over her like a benediction, should have relaxed her but instead it ratcheted her tension up a hundred notches.

      “Allergies, medical conditions, any medication that he’s on?”

      “Uh...no,” she said, clearing her throat. “His name is Timothy Nolan and he’s seven years old. His mother says he’s a normal, active little boy who loves ice hockey and dinosaurs. He’s a Canucks supporter.”

      A smile lit his ruggedly handsome features, stealing her breath and sending her pulse lurching around like a drunken sailor on shore leave. When her knees gave an alarming wobble, she snapped her spine straight.

      Stop looking at his smile, she snarled silently. Handsome guys who flash million-dollar smiles can’t be trusted. So walk away, nice and calm.

      “Well, we’ll have to see that he gets to play hockey someday.”

      Relief that he wasn’t going to mention her recent lapses almost had her knees buckling again.

       That’s good, Dani. Focus on your patient and not on your queasy stomach and wobbly knees.

      “You can replant?” It could simply be the adrenaline let-down that was making her shaky and hyper-aware.

      “The X-rays look good,” he said and though she understood what he wasn’t saying, she pressed on, “So Timmy will be normal again?”

      He sent her a pained look and sighed. “I’ll give it my best shot but I’m not a miracle-worker.”

      “That’s not what I hear,” she clipped out, almost rudely and flushed when one eyebrow rose up his forehead at her snippy tone.

      But she wasn’t about to be intimidated—not like that day almost sixteen years ago when another bad boy had caught her fascinated stare and with a slow smile had propped his shoulder against her locker. Leveling her with a sleepy, knowing look, he’d drawled, “Think you can handle what I’ve got, little girl?” and roared with laughter when she’d turned tail and bolted.

      She felt exactly like that now but managed to lock her knees before they ignored the imperative from her brain to stand firm. She held his gaze a little defiantly.

      His brow wrinkled, as though her behavior surprised him.

      No more than it was surprising the hell out of her too.

      After a short pause he repeated, “We’ll do our best.”

      She gave a curt nod and had turned to go again when his voice called her softly.

      “Dr. Stevens?” He waited until her gaze met his. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

      Dani got the feeling he was talking about more than just the hospital gossip that had him sleeping with more women than there were days in the month. And that was only since his return. Not only was she sure the rumors were grossly exaggerated but she hadn’t received any creepy vibes from him.

      Maybe not but you didn’t get any creepy vibes from Richard either, a little voice of reason reminded her. At least, not before the wedding. And look how that turned out.

      When she didn’t respond, Dr. St. James sighed and looked as if he wanted to say something more. She braced herself, ignoring the way her pulse increased.

      But then the anesthetist called his name and all he said was, “I have to go.”

      And look at that. She could feel the rush of disappointment that he hadn’t...what? Pushed her up against the wall and put his hands and mouth all over her?

      Sheesh, woman. Get a grip. This is a surgical suite. And maybe you could stop looking at his mouth and remember that you’re on sabbatical from men. Remember why you’ve given them up.

      She turned away abruptly, determined to leave with her dignity intact but yet again his voice—a rough slide of velvet against her skin—stopped her in her tracks.

      “Oh, and Dr. Stevens...?”

      Awareness skated across her and she wanted more than anything to escape.

      He waited until she looked back before drawling softly, “I’m not just a pretty face.”

      She was embarrassed that he’d heard what she’d said in the ER but pride stiffened her spine and had her lying smoothly. “I wouldn’t know.”

      She relaxed, inordinately pleased that she could be cool and professional—or at least pretend to be—beneath that intense green gaze. His hypnotic eyes held her hostage for a moment longer, then he nodded brusquely and turned away.

      Before the door swung shut behind her she could hear the steady beeping of the monitors over her thundering pulse