Doctor And The Debutante

“I appreciate you trying to make me feel better. I’m sorry I woke you.”

Laura shivered.

Sean caught that and said slowly, “Why don’t you snuggle down and get some rest? I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

Laura marveled at how easily he’d read her mind, that she dreaded being alone after a nightmare. Scooting down inside the covers, she let him arrange her pillows more comfortably. “Thank you,” she whispered, and closed her eyes.

Sean lay gazing at her in the dim glow of the night-light. She was every bit as lovely as he’d said she was. And she was going through a bad time. She needed someone to help her through it. And as he settled in with his arms around her, he thought that maybe he was that someone.

There was that protective urge again. He hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.

Maybe it was a good sign.

Dear Reader,

During the warm days of July, what better way to kick back and enjoy the best of summer reading than with six stellar stories from Special Edition as we continue to celebrate Silhouette’s 20th Anniversary all year long!

With The Pint-Sized Secret, Sherryl Woods continues to delight her readers with another winning installment of her popular miniseries AND BABY MAKES THREE: THE DELACOURTS OF TEXAS. Reader favorite Lindsay McKenna starts her new miniseries, MORGAN’S MERCENARIES: MAVERICK HEARTS, with Man of Passion, her fiftieth book. A stolen identity leads to true love in Patricia Thayer’s compelling Whose Baby Is This? And a marriage of convenience proves to be anything but in rising star Allison Leigh’s Married to a Stranger in her MEN OF THE DOUBLE-C RANCH miniseries. Rounding off the month is celebrated author Pat Warren’s Doctor and the Debutante, where the healthy dose of romance is just what the physician ordered, while for the heroine in Beth Henderson’s Maternal Instincts, a baby-sitting assignment turns into a practice run for motherhood—and marriage.

Hope you enjoy this book and the other unforgettable stories Special Edition is happy to bring you this month!

All the best,

Karen Taylor Richman,

Senior Editor

Doctor and the Debutante

Pat Warren

MILLS & BOON

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This book is dedicated to Brooks Rector, a dear friend of my husband’s for years, and now mine, too.

Happy reading!

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Montana Mavericks

Outlaw Lovers #6

PAT WARREN,

mother of four, lives in Arizona with her travel agent husband and a lazy white cat. She’s a former newspaper columnist whose lifetime dream was to become a novelist. A strong romantic streak, a sense of humor and a keen interest in developing relationships led her to try romance novels, with which she feels very much at home.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter One

The snow had been coming down for at least three hours, lightly at first, then more heavily. Hands in the back pockets of his corduroy slacks, Sean Reagan stood looking out the front window of his cabin in the Gray Mountains of Arizona, a frown on his face as he watched the wind hurl a mound of snow onto the porch. The temperature had undoubtedly dropped since he’d taken a walk several hours ago. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly the weather could change in winter this far north.

Then again, what difference did the weather make? Sean thought as he crossed the big open room and bent to throw another log into the fireplace. He was inside, warm and safe. And alone, at least for this second week in February, a ritual he’d begun four years ago. Fortunately Dr. Jonah Evans, his partner in their busy OB-GYN medical practice, understood Sean’s need to get away at this particular time and covered for him.

It wasn’t a vacation, not really. The thing was Sean hadn’t much use for people who constantly felt sorry for themselves or grieved in public. So each year, he set aside this one week where he could weep in private if that’s how he felt, or rail at the fates for changing his life so radically. Alone up here, he could chop wood, take long walks, read a book and hopefully heal. Then he could go back and get on with his life. Or so the theory went.

Sean had built the cabin himself and knew it was rock solid. Some would call it rustic and remote, sitting as it was in the midst of evergreens and rocks large enough to be called boulders. There was a stream that ran along the back perimeter with water so pure and clean you could count every pebble. The evenings and early mornings he’d sat on his covered porch and listened to the birds and small wildlife scurrying about in the tall grass had been some of the happiest of his life.

But that had been then and this was now.

He’d learned the hard way that not everyone shared his pleasure in seclusion and solitude, in the simple life, in hard work and patiently moving toward a goal.

Straightening, he dusted off his hands and decided to warm some soup. But a loud crashing sound from outside had him stopping in his tracks and cocking his head to listen more closely. Was it just the wind and the storm escalating? Or could a tree limb have broken loose and fallen onto his attached garage where his Mercedes was parked? Moving to the window again, he tried to see out, but the snow was coming down thick and heavy. Reluctantly, he decided he’d better go check.

He tugged on his boots, then his sheepskin jacket, zipping it up against the swirling snow as he ventured out, pulling on his leather gloves before closing the door. The wind howled past, the snow blowing every which way. Stepping off the porch, he sank into a drift almost to his knees, making walking difficult. Squinting as he looked up along the roofline, he could see no damage to the garage. Still, something had made that noise. There were trees all around—pine and cottonwood and paloverdes—but he couldn’t spot any fallen limbs.

Only late afternoon and yet it was growing dark rapidly with no sign the snow would let up anytime soon. Already he could barely make out his driveway leading to the one-lane road two miles in from the highway. Trudging out aways, trying to spot anything amiss, Sean felt a clump of cold white stuff fall beneath his collar, causing him to shiver. Suddenly he noticed some wide tracks veering off the driveway that seemed to be fresh. That was odd.

As he gazed off to the left, he saw lights glinting off something silvery coming from the hillside below. Curiosity had Sean stepping gingerly along the incline toward the light. Closer now, he could see more tracks in the snow that were definitely recent, wide tire tracks.

Through the snow-covered branches, he peered down and was able to make out a large vehicle stuck between two trees near the bottom of the gully. Smoky steam was spiraling up from beneath a crushed hood. Getting closer, he saw that it was a late model silver Bronco that had probably hit a tree, then done a complete 180, swiveling about in the slippery snow, its back end wedged in tightly, its nose pointing upward.

Hurrying over, Sean peeked in through the closest window. A woman was slumped over on her side in the front seat, her thick hair hiding her face. A fat tree limb had broken through the windshield, probably on first impact, stopping mere centimeters from her very still form. He could see no one else in the vehicle.

Medical instincts on alert, Sean knew he had to see if she was alive, to check out her injuries. He tried to open the driver’s door, but it was too close to a large fir. Moving as fast as humanly possible in the deep snow, he went around to the other side where there was a little more room between the passenger side and a tall pine. But the door was locked.

Worried about the woman trapped inside, that she might be bleeding to death while he figured out how to rescue her, he looked around for any fallen branches large enough to break the side window. He could see none.

Cursing under his breath, he retraced his steps to the cabin. He’d need some tools to break a window or pry open a door. But the overhead door of the garage was blocked by mounds of windblown snow. Rushing, he entered his house and all but ran through to the connecting door to the garage. Grabbing a hammer and crowbar, he made his painstaking way back to the Bronco.

The woman hadn’t moved.

It took two swings to break the passenger side window enough so he could reach in and unlock the door. Wedging the door open as far as the pine tree would allow and propping it in place with the crowbar, Sean leaned into the front seat and yanked off one glove. He brushed her hair aside and placed two fingers on her throat, searching for a pulse. At last, he felt her heartbeat, thready but definitely there. He let out a relieved breath.

If she’d been driving a smaller car, she probably wouldn’t be breathing. The heavy Bronco had saved her life.

Decision time. To remove her might make any internal injuries worse, yet he couldn’t leave her there with the blowing snow and the temperature well below freezing. The chances of getting an EMS unit here quickly in this storm were slim to none. He’d have to do his best to get her inside his cabin and tend to her injuries.

As if to remind him to quit stalling, the merciless wind sent a rush of snow right at him, powdering his face and hair. The storm was building in intensity. Sean knew from past experience that residents up here could be marooned for days before help could arrive to dig them out. He was the woman’s only hope. And he was a doctor, dedicated to saving lives.

There’d never really been any other choice.

Carefully, he leaned back in, reached over and unbuckled her seat belt. Slowly, he eased the woman’s upper torso away from the protruding branch and the steering wheel, maneuvering her toward himself. As her head fell back, he saw blood from a wound on her forehead, but he’d known she’d probably have some lacerations from the flying glass of the windshield, if not from the impact itself. With no small effort in the cramped space, he finally got her shoulders through the door, but he couldn’t reach back in for her legs.

Praying that he wasn’t adding to her injuries, he dragged her through the confined space until she was totally free of the vehicle. Bracing his booted feet in the slippery snow, he bent at the knees and managed to hoist her up into his arms. Thankfully, she was a small woman. Her head angled toward his shoulder, and she mumbled something he couldn’t quite make out. Something that sounded like Max or Mex.

Had he missed someone, perhaps a child? As best he could with the woman in his arms, he squinted into the back seat, searching for a tiny form, a movement, a sound. No, there was only a leather handbag on the floor next to a somewhat tattered blanket.

It seemed a mile to the cabin door as he carried his dead-weight burden in nearly knee-deep snow up the incline and across the unshoveled driveway. At six-one and a healthy thirty-one years old, Sean was in good shape, yet he still found the going rough. Boosting her up for a better hold, he climbed the porch steps and almost dropped her legs as he struggled to open the door.

At last inside, he carried her to the couch in front of the fireplace and placed her on it as gently as he was able. Letting out a deep breath, he shook the snow off his hair, then went back to close the door, remove his gloves and toe off his boots. Unzipping his coat as he hurried back to her, he saw that blood streaked her face and she was quite wet from the snow that had fallen in on her through the broken windshield and the walk to the cabin. The crash he’d heard in the cabin had undoubtedly been the Bronco which meant she hadn’t lain out there too long.

Still, hypothermia can set in quickly when an injured person’s blood pressure drops, Sean knew. Quickly, he whipped off his jacket and went to his bedroom, returning with his medical bag and a towel. Shifting her into a better position on the oversize couch, he again checked her pulse, pleased to find it even stronger than before. She looked to be somewhere in her twenties, which would definitely be in her favor.

Gently he pushed up first one eyelid, then the other. Pupils okay, a good sign. Her eyes were large and deep blue. Probably one of her best assets, Sean thought absently.

Dampening a sterile gauze pad with alcohol, he brushed back her long black hair and cleaned the wound on her forehead. Quite deep but still just a superficial cut. He put antibiotic ointment on a clean gauze pad, placed it on the wound, then taped it in place. Next he eased off her leather jacket. As he lifted her, she moaned out loud, her face contorting as if in pain. He tossed the jacket aside. Underneath, she had on a blue sweater with designer jeans and leather flats on her sockless feet.

Her clothes weren’t off the usual racks, Sean noticed. They were expensive and in good taste. She had a gold chain around her neck that was heavy and very real. On her right hand, she wore an amethyst ring in a simple gold setting that didn’t come cheap.

Moving his hands very carefully, he trailed them over her body from her head to her toes, letting her groans tell him as much as his fingers learned. He was more doctor than man now, his experienced touch trying to ascertain the extent of her injuries. Finishing, he leaned back, studying her face.

Probably a concussion if she’d hit her head hard enough to sustain that cut, hopefully not too severe. There were some bruises forming on her face, and she might wake up to a couple of black eyes, but no other cuts visible. Her right shoulder was dislocated, her arm hanging limply at her side. Her left ankle was swollen, but didn’t appear to be broken.

Nothing too serious if the concussion wasn’t bad. He’d fixed many a dislocated shoulder in his residency days and ER rotation—painful but not life threatening.

Gently, he pulled up her sweater and saw red marks on her stomach that would surely darken into some pretty nasty bruises from where the steering wheel had slammed into her. The seat belt had kept her upper body in place, yet her right shoulder had still dislocated. Without the belt, she’d have been tossed onto the floor like a rag doll, sustaining far more serious injuries. Or her head might have smashed into that jutting tree limb.

All in all, she appeared to be one lucky lady, Sean concluded.

She didn’t look comfortable, so he settled her into the soft folds of the corduroy couch, adjusting pillows around her. Again she moaned, mumbling, and this time he could make out a word. Max. There’d been no one else in the Bronco, of that he was certain. Was Max her husband? She wore no wedding ring, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t married. Many of the nurses he worked with chose not to wear their rings, for whatever reason.

Gazing at the woman as a man and not just a doctor, Sean saw that she was beautiful with all that lush black hair, high cheekbones and thick lashes dark against her pale skin. He couldn’t help but wonder where she’d been headed in such a storm, where she was from and who if anyone was waiting for her arrival. Maybe Max? If not a husband, was he perhaps a lover she was rushing to meet?

None of his business, he decided, frowning.

He reached for the towel and gently patted her face dry, then used it to dry her hair. As he shifted her, she shivered and began shaking, probably from shock. He set his medicine bag on the floor, then went to get an afghan his mother had made. Laying the cover over her, he tucked the ends around her feet after removing her shoes.

She should wake up soon, he thought, unless he’d missed something in his somewhat hasty exam.

Returning to tend the fire, Sean put two more logs on, then hunched down and poked at the wood, working up a strong blaze. His pant legs were almost dry, but his socks were wet from padding around the cabin in the snow tracks made by his wet boots.

With one last look at his unexpected guest, he went to his bedroom for a pair of dry socks.

Pain intruded into her consciousness and made itself known. It seemed everywhere—her head, her shoulder, her ankle, her stomach. Sharp, throbbing, intense. She tried to move, but the pain stopped her. She tried to sink back into the black oblivion of sleep, but the pain pushed her awake.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Hazy vision. Blinking, she tried to clear it. When finally she did, she recognized nothing.

She was in a large room on a couch, covered with a blue-and-white afghan. There was an oak coffee table nearby, a braided oval rug over plank flooring, dancing flames in a huge fireplace. The heat felt good for she was cold, shivering.

Where was she?

She heard a door open, footsteps. Who? Though the pain sliced through her, she sank deeper into the couch, fear causing her heart to race. Then he came into view.

She sized him up in seconds: tall, over six feet, broad shoulders, sandy hair cut short, a lean, tan unsmiling face. He wore a black turtleneck sweater over gray cords and leather moccasins. He stopped by the couch, looking down at her with blue-gray eyes filled with questions. Unable to hide the fear in her eyes, she clutched the afghan in trembling fists and stared back at him.

“Glad you’re finally awake,” he said, pulling a footstool over to the couch and sitting down.

She withdrew deeper into the cushions surrounding her. “Who are you?” she managed, her voice raspy. Her gaze did a quick circle of the cabin. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the Gray Mountains. I’m Sean Reagan and this is my cabin on Hollow Oak Road. You had an accident. Your Bronco swerved off the road and hit a couple of trees.” He watched her take that in, digest it.

“Yes, the Gray Mountains. I remember I was on my way to my family’s place on Ridgeway Road.”

He nodded, recognizing the street. “You turned about a mile too soon. Ridgeway’s just north of me.”

“It was snowing hard and I couldn’t recognize anything familiar.” Fear hadn’t left her altogether. “You…you live here alone?” Please let there be a wife, a mother, somebody.

Sean was well aware what was bothering her. He softened his expression, trying to relieve her mind. “Actually, I live in Scottsdale. I built this cabin for times when I want to get away from the city. I’m a doctor, an obstetrician.” He pointed to his bag on the floor next to the couch. “Quite legit. My office is on Scottsdale Road.”

He watched her face as she assessed that information. “I could show you my hospital I.D.” He finally smiled. “Honest, I’m not an ax murderer.”

The smile made him look less menacing, but she didn’t return it as she glanced down at the gray bag, still wary. “I thought all doctors had little black bags.”

“Not really. They come in all colors.” He shifted closer. “I’d like to examine you again, now that you’re awake.”

The startled look was back on her face. “How do you mean? You…examined me?” She had trouble thinking of this very attractive, very masculine man as a medical person.

“Please relax. I’m a doctor. And I didn’t undress you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

Without waiting for her permission, he forced her eyes wider to check her pupils then took out his stethoscope and listened to her heart and lungs. Her breathing was a bit fast as was her heartbeat, probably because she was still nervous about him.

With careful fingers, he touched her shoulder and she cried out. “This is your worst injury, a dislocated shoulder. Fixable but with some discomfort.” His hand went to her ankle, examining the tender swollen flesh. “Just a sprain but you’d best stay off it for awhile.” He indicated the gauze on her forehead. “That’s a cut I’ve already cleaned and bandaged.” He tapped lightly on her stomach through the sweater. “You’ve got some bruising here, from the steering wheel. Not serious, but painful.”

Sean watched her hand snake under her sweater as she realized he must have looked her over quite thoroughly.

He’s a doctor, she reminded herself. She raised a hand to check out the forehead bandage, then let her fingers drift into her hair. “My head really hurts.”

He nodded. “You undoubtedly have a concussion, but not a serious one. I’ll give you something for the pain.”

So many questions whirling around in her brain. “How’d I get in here? You say you found me?”

“I heard the crash and went out to check. I got you out and carried you here.” He could see concern and lingering pain in those midnight blue eyes, and wondered how they’d look when she laughed, when she was happy.

“I…thank you.” It was the least she could say.

Pausing, he studied her face. Her color was better, her complexion not so pale. “What in the world were you doing out in such a storm? Were you rushing to meet someone at the Ridgeway cabin? Because, up here, when it storms like this, the phones generally go out for days at a time. Is someone waiting for you—a parent, a husband, a boyfriend?”

She frowned. Her father was generally too busy to wonder where she was, her husband was now an ex and she hadn’t had a boyfriend in…well, a very long time.

She was honestly trying to remember, but everything was oddly hazy. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t going to meet anyone. I often go to the cabin alone. I love it there, like a secure haven. It was raining in Scottsdale when I left but I never dreamed I’d drive into a snowstorm.” She closed her eyes, willing the memory to return. “I remember I was in a hurry. That much seems clear. I had this urgency to get away, from something or someone. But I’m not sure who or why.” Her eyes opened and met his, filled with distress. “It’s really odd. I can’t seem to remember any more.”

“Not so odd. Can you think of anyone you’re afraid of?”