Mission: M.d.

“We didn’t get off to a very good start this morning. Let’s start over.

“I’m Turk Garrison. I’m new in town and looking for someone to show me around. Wanna volunteer? I promise I don’t bite, scratch or drool in public. So whaddya say? Are you game?”

Unable to take her eyes off his engaging smile, Rachel tried hard not to be charmed. She wanted to say yes so badly she could taste it. Instead she said, “No.”

If he hadn’t been so damn sure of himself—not to mention boyishly attractive—she might have said yes. But a woman only had to glance over at him to know that he was trouble any way you looked at it.

“Hey,” Turk said, grinning, “that’s okay. I’m a patient man. And it’s not like I don’t know where to find you.

“After all…you’re right next door.”

Dear Reader,

People always ask me where I get my stories, and my answer is always the same: They float around in the air. People tell me that I hear or see something that triggers an idea, and suddenly, the story is there. This particular book was told to me by different people at different times. Years ago, I heard about a woman who wasn’t looking for love, just a doctor to father her baby. She really did go to a bar near the medical center and had a one-night stand with a doctor. When she got pregnant and had the baby, she never told the father of her child.

That woman, whose name I never knew, became my heroine, Rachel Martin. The rest of her story is based on another true story. Somewhere in south Texas, there is a woman who married a man who had a vasectomy without telling her. She, too, desperately wanted a baby and didn’t know for years that that was never going to happen.

I wanted more for Rachel Martin. Determined to get the baby she wanted at all cost, she thought she had everything worked out. Then Fate moved in next door. Don’t you just love that?

Enjoy!

Linda Turner

Mission: M.D.

Linda Turner

MILLS & BOON

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LINDA TURNER

began reading romances in high school and began writing them one night when she had nothing else to read. She’s been writing ever since. Single and living in Texas, she travels every chance she gets, scouting locales for her books.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Prologue

The phone rang promptly at eight o’clock, just as Rachel Martin had expected. Grinning, she snatched it up without bothering to check the caller ID. “Hi, Lily. You’re right on time as usual.”

“Hi, Rachel.”

Surprised, she almost dropped the phone. “Natalie? Is that you? I was expecting Lily.”

“I’m here,” Lily said with a chuckle.

“Me, too,” Abby chimed in cheerfully. “We wanted to surprise you with a conference call.”

“Well, you certainly did that,” she retorted, smiling. “What’s going on? I know a conspiracy when I smell one. What’s up?”

“I want you to be in my wedding,” Natalie said.

“Me, too.”

“Ditto.”

Stunned, Rachel felt as if the three of them had just reached through the phone and knocked her off her feet. “All three of you are getting married?”

Lily laughed at her shocked gasp. “It’s crazy, isn’t it? I didn’t think I’d ever be happy again, and then almost overnight, everything changed.”

“I took one look into Logan’s eyes and it was all over,” Abby added. “Of course, I didn’t tell him that. I didn’t even tell myself.”

“But then you realize that even though you’re scared of making another mistake, you don’t even want to think about living without him,” Natalie said huskily. “I think Max was just as stunned as I was when he asked me to marry him.”

“But you didn’t give him a chance to take it back, did you?” Lily teased. “I didn’t with Tony, either.”

“So will you do it?” Abby asked Rachel. “Will you be in our weddings? We need you. This all started last summer. Remember? When we all sat around at our class reunion, talking about how miserable we were?”

“So we changed our lives and found the happiness we’d always been looking for,” Lily said. “You have to be a part of our weddings, Rachel. We all encouraged one another that day. The four of us have to stick together.”

“But nothing’s changed in my life,” she replied. “I still want a baby. Just a baby. No husband. No one to lie to me and pretend he wants the same thing I do.”

“Not everyone is like Jason,” Abby pointed out quietly. “There are good, honest men out there. I know. We know. We all found one.”

“They’re out there,” Lily told her. “You just have to give yourself a chance to meet one.”

“No,” she said flatly. “I can’t. I’ll never trust a man again.”

“Oh, sweetie, don’t say that!”

“It’s the truth,” she retorted. “You know how much I wanted a baby. I spent years trying to get pregnant. And all the time, Jason knew it was never going to happen. Do you have any idea how devastated I was when I found out he’d had a vasectomy before we got married? I cried in his arms every time I had a period! How could I have been such a fool?”

“Don’t you dare beat yourself up for what that man did,” Natalie said. “He was the fool, Rachel. Not you.”

“That’s right,” Abby said, “You’ll make a wonderful mother. Go have a baby if you want one. You don’t need a man for that—just his sperm.”

“Go to a sperm bank in Austin,” Lily suggested. “You can pick out the height, coloring and intelligence of your baby’s father and never have to even meet him. Of course, you won’t get any financial support and you’ll have to go through the pregnancy alone, but we’ll be there for you. And you make good money with the bakery, don’t you? You can do this, Rachel.”

“At least you won’t have to worry about someone you want no part of having an influence on your child,” Natalie said. “If you’re sure you just want a baby and no father to go with it, then a sperm bank would be the way to go.”

They weren’t saying anything she hadn’t thought of herself, but something squeezed her heart at the idea of lying on an examining table and being impregnated so impersonally. “I don’t know if I could do that,” she admitted honestly. “It just sounds so…”

“Clinical?” Lily supplied for her. “You’re right. It does. But if you don’t want a man…”

“Just because I can’t trust a man enough to have one in my life doesn’t mean I can’t get pregnant by one…then walk away.”

Silence fell like a stone. “I’ve surprised you,” she said quietly.

“Could you do that?” Natalie asked, curious. “Could you meet a man, have sex with him and get pregnant, then just walk away?”

For the last few months, Rachel had asked herself that same question more times than she could count. And the answer was always the same. “I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Chapter 1

Standing before the large round mirror of her antique dresser, Rachel studied herself with a critical eye. She never had been what she would call a girlie-girl. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d painted her fingernails, and she wasn’t one of those women who spent hours in front of the mirror, messing with her hair. Half the time, she twisted it up on top of her head, clipped it out of the way, and walked out the door without even looking at it twice. Lipstick was an afterthought, perfume was the smell of sugar and yeast that clung to her from the bakery. She wore jeans and a baker’s smock to work, and given the chance, tennis shoes.

So how was she supposed to dress to attract a man? she wondered wildly. It had been so long since she’d had a date that she didn’t even know where to begin.

More blush, she decided, frowning at her pale, reflected image. She needed more color in her face…and jewelry. Her neck looked bare, her earlobes naked. What did the kids call it now days? Bling-bling. That was what she needed. All she had, however, was a simple gold locket that her grandmother had given her. Would that date her? Or make her look like some kind of innocent who’d been living in a convent?

Undecided, she slipped it on, then added blush to her cheeks and painted on red lipstick. Stepping back, she frowned at her reflection. The woman who stared back at her in the mirror was a stranger. Dressed in red, her dark hair tumbling around her shoulders, she looked hot, sultry, sexy.

It was the dress, she decided. There was no question that it was designed to appeal to a man. It hugged her slender figure and ever so slightly dipped between her breasts, revealing just a hint of cleavage. Paired with strappy, spiked sandals, the dress gave her the look of a woman on the prowl.

Suddenly having second thoughts, Rachel seriously considered chickening out right there and then. Maybe Abby and Lily and Natalie were right. There was another way to have a baby. What difference did it make if she actually met her baby’s father? It wasn’t as if she would have a chance to learn that much about his character. She was never going to see the man again.

She wanted a baby, not a relationship, she reminded herself. And with a sperm bank, she wouldn’t have to worry about some man calling all the time, wanting to get to know her—and his baby—better. All she wanted was his sperm. So what if it was clinical? What could be more clinical than picking a stranger out of a bar to be the father of her baby?

Don’t second guess yourself now, a voice in her head warned. You don’t have a lot of choices here, you know. Unless you want to get pregnant the old-fashioned way—by a man you fall in love with—you’ve only got two options. The sperm bank or seducing a stranger. If you want to know for sure that the father of your baby is not only intelligent, but a kind and caring man, then don’t you think you’d better meet him face-to-face?

Her heart stopped dead at the thought. Could she really pull this off? What if he guessed what she was up to? Any man in his right mind would be furious, and she couldn’t say she’d blame him. She intended to use him in the worst way a woman could use a man, but she truly had no other choice. She’d already tried the fairy tale, love and marriage, but there’d been no baby to make three.

And during the years of their marriage, Jason had made sure that she’d known who was to blame for that. She was the one whose hormones were out of whack. She was the one who was somehow deficient and didn’t have what it took to have a baby. And she’d believed the lying jackass.

The day she’d discovered the truth, she’d walked out. How could she have loved a man like that and never realized what a monster he was? How could she have been so blind? She’d promised herself then that she was done with men, with lies, with trust. Never again would she place her hopes and dreams in anyone else’s hands but her own.

She wanted a baby, and she didn’t have a clue how long it would take to get pregnant. Months? Years? The constant tick of her biological clock echoed in her ears at the thought. The women in her family had all gone into menopause by the time they reached forty. If she ran out of time…

Pain squeezing her heart at the thought, she grabbed her purse and turned her back on the woman in the mirror. When she locked her front door and slipped behind the wheel of her VW Bug a few minutes later, she tried to convince herself she was doing the right thing. All she had to do was shut her brain and conscience off and go after what she wanted. Other women did it all the time. So could she.

Of course, she’d been telling herself that for months, long before Lily and Natalie and Abby had called last week and asked her to be in their weddings, and she’d yet to do anything. And who could blame her? She was going to have sex with a stranger in order to get pregnant! And that wasn’t something she did lightly. On top of that, the father of her child had to be someone special. Someone who was caring and kind and smart, someone any child would love to claim as his father. And she’d decided there was only one place where she could find such a paragon…in a hospital. The father of her child needed to be a doctor.

Still, even after she’d come to that conclusion, she’d done nothing. Then she’d turned thirty-five on Monday, and she’d felt time slipping through her fingers, time she would never get back. And she’d known she couldn’t wait any longer. She had to do something. Now.

The man she was looking for wasn’t in Hunter’s Ridge, Texas. The town was too small, barely eight thousand people, and ever since she’d moved there five years ago and started running her grandmother’s bakery, she’d met just about every inhabitant of the place. The only doctors in town were pushing retirement and happily married to little white-haired old ladies. If she wanted to find someone, she would have to go into Austin.

The city was forty miles and a world away. No one knew her there, but her pounding heart took little comfort in that as she drove toward the city lights. She was about to make one of the most important moves of her life, and she was a nervous wreck. Her palms were sweating, her mouth dry, and every instinct she had urged her to turn the car around and race back to Hunter’s Ridge. In her head, however, she could hear her biological clock ticking. Her chin set at a determined angle, she headed for the medical center.

The bar she chose was trendy and popular, and a friend who was a nurse had told her that if she wanted to meet a doctor, this was the place to go. It was one of the favorite watering holes of residents and medical students alike. As Rachel pulled into the parking lot, she could well believe it. She couldn’t find a single parking space and had to park on the street.

Cutting the motor, she stepped from her car, her heart skipping every other beat. It was game time, she thought grimly. No more excuses, no more procrastinating. If she really wanted a baby, this was her chance. All she had to do was walk inside the bar and find a man who met her requirements for a father, then seduce him.

It should have been easy. The second she walked through the front door, she drew every male eye in the place. All she had to do was smile, find a seat at the bar and wait for someone to join her.

She didn’t have to wait long. “Hey, sweetheart,” a tall, dark-haired man greeted her with a leering grin as he sauntered up to the bar. “I bet you could use a drink. Bartender, the lady would like a beer.”

Taking a position just inches away from her, he never touched her, but he didn’t have to. He stroked her with his eyes, letting his gaze dip to her breasts, the curve of her waist and hips, then focusing on her mouth in a way that made Rachel’s skin crawl.

Just barely suppressing a shiver of distaste, she said, “Thanks, anyway, but I don’t like beer.”

“No problem,” he said smoothly, his eyes once again dropping to her breasts. “I appreciate a lady with class. How about a glass of wine? Champagne? You name it, it’s yours.”

She could have him if she wanted him—the offer was right there in his beady little eyes. Okay, here’s your chance, the irritating voice of reason drawled mockingly in her head. Just how desperate are you to have a baby?

Not as desperate as she’d thought, she realized. Not tonight, anyway. “Actually, I’m waiting for someone,” she said stiffly. “Thanks, anyway.”

His eyes narrowed with irritation, and for a moment, she thought he was going to refuse to accept no for an answer. Then a tall redhead walked in wearing a skirt that could only generously be called a mini. Just that easily, he lost interest in Rachel and moved to intercept the other woman.

Shaken, Rachel gave serious consideration to walking out then and there. But she’d known this wasn’t going to be easy. One of the disadvantages of looking for a father for her baby in a bar was that she would have to deal with bar flies who thought they were modern-day Casanovas. Okay, she’d dealt with her first one. She could do this.

Drawing in a calming breath, she ordered a Coke from the bartender, then waited to see which man in the crowded bar would step forward next. The place was packed with people in the medical field—she caught bits and snippets of conversation all around her about patients and surgeries and long hours of work and study. She tried to take comfort in the fact that she was in the right place. Surely somewhere in the happy-hour crowd had to be a decent man. The trick was finding him.

Later, she couldn’t have said how many men approached her over the course of the next hour. It seemed like dozens, though in reality it couldn’t have been more than seven or eight. And although most of them weren’t nearly as obnoxious as the first man who’d approached her, they either drank more than she liked, weren’t particularly attractive or didn’t seem to be as kind and caring as she’d hoped for. Discouraged, she sent them packing one by one.

By nine-thirty, the crowd had thinned significantly. The bartender told her that the second wave came in after eleven, when there was a shift change at the six hospitals in the area, but she couldn’t wait that long. She’d done nothing but sit at the bar and visit with the men who’d approached her, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so stressed. She was exhausted. And if tonight was any indication of things to come, finding a man to father her baby was going to be far more difficult than she’d originally anticipated. And she readily admitted she was worried.

Concerned, her stomach tied in knots, she kicked off her strappy high heels the second she got in her car and headed home barefoot. When the lights and the traffic of the city faded in her rearview mirror, she sighed in relief as she reached the deserted streets of Hunter’s Ridge. She really did love living in a small town. There was no fancy mall, no movie theater, and the sidewalks were rolled up at seven every night, but every time she drove down the familiar tree-lined streets, she felt as if she was driving back in time.

Tonight was no different. As she headed down Main Street, there wasn’t another soul in sight…except John Quinn, the deputy sheriff, who was making his rounds through the four-block downtown area. He grinned and nodded a greeting as she passed, then continued on his way. John was on patrol, she thought with a smile as she turned down her street. All was right with the world.

She’d left her porch light on, as well as a floor lamp in the living room, and in the darkness, her house looked warm and welcoming as she drove down the street. When she’d first moved to Hunter’s Ridge after she and Jason divorced, she’d almost bought a house in one of the new subdivisions on the outskirts of town. She was starting her life over and she’d thought she wanted something fresh and new she could make completely hers. Then a house right around the corner from her grandmother’s bakery came up for sale, and she’d stopped by to look at it. It was well over a hundred years old, had twelve-foot ceilings and aged plank flooring that bore the heel marks of countless generations that had come before. The kitchen was too small, the wiring needed to be updated, and there was no such thing as insulation in its walls, but the second she stepped inside, she’d fallen in love. She’d bought it on the spot.

The kitchen was still too small and keeping the place warm in the winter was no easy task, but given the chance, she would have bought it again in a heartbeat. Her only complaint was that the house next door was a rental that had not only fallen into disrepair but had been empty for more than a year. The owner had put it up for sale months ago, but as far as she knew, no one had even looked at the place.

As she pulled into her driveway, her headlights swept across the face of the house next door, and she hit her brakes in surprise at the sight of the lights blazing in the naked windows. Someone had moved in? When? She hadn’t even realized it had been sold.

Curious, she grabbed her high-heeled sandals and stepped out of the car, her eyes trained on the long windows of the Victorian house next door. There wasn’t a curtain or blind in sight, and standing in the darkness, she could easily see a man working in the living room. He was tall, but his back was to her as he tore Sheetrock off the walls. Covered in dust, his head covered with a ball cap, he could have been anywhere from thirty to a hundred and five.

If it hadn’t been nearly ten o’clock at night, she would have knocked on his door and welcomed him to the neighborhood. But he was busy and it was late—her grandmother would be calling any second.

The thought had hardly registered when her cell phone rang. The new neighbor forgotten, she reached for her phone as she unlocked her front door. “Hi, Gran,” she said in amusement. “I’m safe at home. You can stop worrying.”

“No, I can’t!” Evelyn Martin retorted. “I’ve been a nervous wreck all evening. So tell me everything. Are you okay? Tell me you didn’t do anything!”

“I’m fine,” she assured her. “Really.”

“Fine, my eye,” her grandmother retorted. “If you were fine, you never would have come up with this harebrained idea. I should have called your mother.”

Alarmed, she warned, “Gran, you promised!”

“I know, but I’m worried, darn it! I’m afraid some creep is going to hurt you or kill you and give you some awful disease. And then what? How am I going to explain that to your mother? She never liked me, you know. She’ll blame me, and then Ted will have to side with her and I’ll never see him again.”

Sinking down into her favorite easy chair, Rachel fought a smile. “Mom would never try to come between you and Dad. You know that. And I don’t know why you think she doesn’t like you. She really respects you a great deal. You started your own business when most women didn’t even know how to balance a checkbook.”

“I had to. We would have lost everything after Clarence died if I hadn’t gone to work. And Ted would have had to go live with Clarence’s aunt Myrtle, and he would have hated that. The woman starched her underwear, for heaven’s sake, and smoked cigars!”

Rachel grinned. “I hate that I never met her. She sounds like a real character. A lot like you, Gran.”

“I don’t starch my underwear.”

She chuckled at her grandmother’s indignant tone, then sobered. “No, but you do your own thing. And that’s what I’m doing. If I’d thought you were going to go tattling to Mom, I never would have told you my plans. You promised, Gran.”

Evelyn Martin was big on promises, and they both knew it. “Okay,” she huffed, “I won’t tell her. It’s your story to tell, not mine. But I still think you shouldn’t rush into this. There are a lot of nice men out there. In fact, there’s someone I want you to meet….”

“Oh, no, you don’t,” Rachel said quickly. “You’re not setting me up again. Remember what happened the last time you tried that? He was a kid, Gran. Barely twenty-two! I felt like his mother!”

Far from apologetic, Evelyn laughed gaily. “There’s nothing wrong with younger men, sweetie. Your grandfather was three years younger than me.”