Hot Docs On Call: Surgeon's Seduction
About the Authors
Born and raised on the outskirts of Toronto, Ontario, AMY RUTTAN fled the big city to settle down with the country boy of her dreams. She is now mum to three wonderful children, who have given her another job as a taxi driver. A voracious reader, she was given her first romance novel by her grandmother, who shared her penchant for a hot romance. From that moment Amy was hooked by the magical worlds, handsome heroes and sigh-worthy romances contained in the pages, and she knew what she wanted to be when she grew up.
Amy loves to hear from readers. It makes her day, in fact. You can find out more about Amy at her website: amyruttan.com
CAROL MARINELLI recently filled in a form asking for her job title. Thrilled to be able to put down her answer, she put writer. Then it asked what Carol did for relaxation and she put down the truth – writing. The third question asked for her hobbies. Well, not wanting to look obsessed she crossed the fingers on her hand and answered swimming but, given that the chlorine in the pool does terrible things to her highlights – I’m sure you can guess the real answer.
EMILY FORBES is an award-winning author of Medical Romances for Mills & Boon. She has written over twenty-five books and has twice been a finalist in the Australian Romantic Book of the Year Award, which she won in 2013 for her novel Sydney Harbour Hospital: Bella’s Wishlist. You can get in touch with Emily at emilyforbes@internode.on.net, or visit her website at emily-forbesauthor.com
Hot Docs on Call: Surgeon’s Seduction
One Night in New York
Amy Ruttan
Seduced by the Heart Surgeon
Carol Marinelli
Falling for the Single Dad
Emily Forbes
www.millsandboon.co.uk
ISBN: 978-1-474-09703-1
HOT DOCS ON CALL: SURGEON’S SEDUCTION
One Night in New York © 2015 Amy Ruttan Seduced by the Heart Surgeon © 2016 Carol Marinelli Falling for the Single Dad © 2016 Emily Forbes
Published in Great Britain 2019
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF
All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.
By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.
® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.
www.millsandboon.co.uk
Version: 2020-03-02
MILLS & BOON
Before you start reading, why not sign up?
Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!
SIGN ME UP!
Or simply visit
signup.millsandboon.co.uk
Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.
Table of Contents
Cover
About the Authors
Title Page
Copyright
One Night in New York
Dedication
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 THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Seduced by the Heart Surgeon
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 THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Falling for the Single Dad
Dedication
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
About the Publisher
One Night in New York
Amy Ruttan
This book is dedicated to my fellow
quartet authors Tina Beckett,
Amalie Berlin and Lucy Ryder.
Thank you ladies for such an awesome experience.
I had so much fun creating an exciting world with
you and bringing West Manhattan Saints to life.
CHAPTER ONE
Manhattan, winter
THE BAR WASN’T particularly packed tonight, but that wasn’t overly strange as it was the middle of the week. Still, as Sam Napier peered around the glitzy nightclub on the Upper West Side, far from his local watering hole in Brooklyn, there were a few glitterati mingling, drinks in their hands, trying to escape the wintry blast of cold air outside. It was a good night to people-watch and he had nothing else to do.
He leaned back against the bar, sipping his Scotch and people-watching. This was a place where he could just melt into the woodwork, if there was any wood in the chrome and glass bar, and no one knew who he was. It was nice.
The local watering hole in Brooklyn was great, but there would be a ninety-nine point nine percent chance that he would run into someone from work and/or one of his roommates and tonight he didn’t want that. He didn’t need to talk about how there was a new attending who could possibly mess with his future at West Manhattan Saints Hospital.
Besides, Enzo, his closest friend, had paired up with Sam’s roommate Kimberlyn and those two had recently moved to Tennessee. His other roommate, Tessa, had moved out and there was no way he could handle the girl talk with Holly his only current roommate, though some more were moving in. Just the thought of her chattering made him shudder.
There was no one to commiserate with. No close friends and those he was close to wouldn’t expect him to open up anyway. He kept most things to himself, but tonight he really needed to drown his sorrows. No one would understand that one of the department heads who had a say in his appointment as a pediatric fellow had retired and a new replacement surgeon had been appointed. And apparently the surgeon replacing Dr. Powers, the former Head of Obstetrics and Maternal-Fetal Medicine, was one of the top surgeons in the field and a slave-driver.
But Sam didn’t see the need for maternal-fetal medicine at West Manhattan Saints. Dr. Amelia Chang, Head of Pediatrics, could handle most issues in utero with the OB/GYN, and even then they could send the patient on to a larger hospital if necessary.
In all Sam’s years at West Manhattan Saints he’d barely seen Dr. Powers in surgery. So why did she need a replacement for such a small department? The obstetrics department at West Manhattan Saints was not large. The hospital was known for trauma, with Dr. Ootaka at the helm, and Pediatrics.
This new attending was a waste of money as far as Sam was concerned. But not surprising, given who the chief of surgery was. This new attending was probably BFFs with Professor Gareth Langley.
Great. Just what he needed: another egotistical, maniacal surgeon like the chief of surgery at West Manhattan Saints or, worse, like his mother…
At least he’d learned one thing from her numerous failed relationships and dalliances: successful surgeons couldn’t have a family.
“You need to find someone, Sam. You’re lonely.” Kimberlyn’s plea popped into his mind. “I know some nice girls,” she had said repeatedly.
Sam had always rebuffed her. The last thing he wanted was a relationship. He didn’t have time for one. Still, he kind of wished sometimes he had someone, even if just for a moment.
Sam was knocked out of his reverie and his drink was splashed down the front of his sweater when he was whacked by an icy wet scarf.
“Holy crackers! It’s cold out there,” a big puffy yeti said, sitting down on the bar stool next to him as it began to pull off its layers.
“Bloody hell…”
“Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.” As the last layer came off a beautiful redheaded vixen reached for a napkin and began to dab at his sweater in a futile attempt to soak up the expensive Scotch that had seeped into the fibers. “I can’t believe I did that. I didn’t see you there.”
“Obviously not.” Sam wiped away the chunk of snow that was melting in his eye. “Then again, I don’t how much you could see with that many layers on. It’s not that cold outside, lass.”
Her brown eyes widened. “You’re Scottish.”
“Half,” he mumbled, snatching the napkin from her hand and trying to fix the damage to his sweater himself. When he got agitated his accent came out thicker. His mother was American, but since his father had mostly raised him in the Highlands he had more Scot in him than Yankee, though he had been born in Manhattan at the hospital he was currently completing his residency in.
“I hope it’s not designer,” she said with concern.
“What’s not?” Sam asked confused.
“The sweater.”
He chuckled. “Hardly. No, it’s not designer. I just like it, that’s all.”
And he did. His gran had knitted it for him. It was a blue-gray V-neck sweater, which had seen better days, but it gave him a sense of home.
She smiled, a lovely warm one that made his heart skip a beat. There was something about red-haired women that made him melt just a bit. Maybe it was something about gingers sticking together, even though his hair was more auburn and hers was a bit more mahogany than the classic ginger.
Bloody hell. Why am I analyzing hair color? How many drinks have I had?
Then he remembered the Scotch currently soaked into his sweater had been his first and he’d only had a taste of it.
“I’m really sorry. Can I replace the drink I spilled?” she asked.
“That you can do.”
“I have to say I’m disappointed.”
“How so?” he asked.
“I thought you were going to answer me with ‘Aye.’”
Sam laughed. “No, I only save that for when I’m really tetchy. My name is Sam, by the way.”
“Mindy.” She held out her hand and he took it in his, brushing a quick kiss across her knuckles, which made her gasp.
He heard it and it pleased him to know he’d gotten that response out of her. Something his dear old dad had taught him.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mindy.” Sam was still holding her hand as she stared up at him for a moment, her eyes wide, her pink lips open, but only for a moment then pink tinged her cheeks and she took back her hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She cleared her throat and turned to the barkeeper. “One Merlot and a…?”
“Scotch.”
The barkeep nodded and moved away. Sam took the bar stool next to her. “So, I take it you’re not from around these parts.”
“What makes you say that?” she asked.
“You were bundled up enough to make a trek to the South Pole.”
Mindy chuckled. “I’m really not used to the cold.”
“I gathered that.”
The barkeeper returned with their drinks and Mindy slid him some money. He could just say thanks for the drink and move on, really he should, but she was just the kind of distraction from his own problems that he was looking for. It had been some time since he’d indulged, he’d been so focused on his residency. He never entered into one-night situations, because he refused to follow in the same footsteps as his mother, but maybe tonight if Mindy was interested he could relent, just a bit.
“Where are you from?” Sam asked.
“California. Born and raised. And where are you from?”
“Here,” Sam replied, winking at her.
“Oh, come on. I told you mine, now tell me yours.”
“Well, I was born in Manhattan, but I was raised in the Highlands by my father.”
“How interesting.” She took a sip of her wine. “Was he a laird?”
It was meant as a tease. He knew it. It always was.
“Aye, he is.”
Mindy choked on her wine. “You’re not serious?”
“I am. Very. Did you not hear my ‘Aye’?”
“I thought that was only saved for when you were tetchy?”
“Or when I’m very serious.” He winked at her.
“He’s a laird?”
“It’s not as romantic as you’re thinking it is. It just means he owns a large bit of land in the Highlands. He doesn’t serve out justice to his lowly tenants. He’s not nobility.”
“So what does that make you?”
“Make me?”
“Or are there other heirs apparent?” She winked as she took a sip of her Merlot.
Sam laughed. “I’m the eldest, but really it doesn’t make me anything other than what you see here.”
Mindy cocked her head to one side. “And here I thought I was talking to royalty.”
Sam chuckled. “Hardly. So what brought you from the warm confines of California to the harsh and bitter environment of Manhattan?”
“You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”
“Just a wee bit.”
Mindy sighed and tucked a long strand of mahogany hair behind her ear. “A new job and a new…start.”
“I can tell from your tone that you wanted to get as far away from California as possible.”
“How can you tell that from my tone?”
“It was tight, like you were in pain.”
What are you doing?
As Mindy glanced over at the devilishly handsome man, warmth spread through her, a zing of something she hadn’t felt in quite some time.
Maybe it’s the wine?
No, not the wine. Even when she’d still been with Dean, the last few years of their marriage had been detached and they had just been going through the motions. Of course, she’d thought it was their careers that had kept them apart, she’d never suspected someone else and she had certainly never expected that someone else to be her best friend and colleague. Dean and Owen’s betrayal cut her to the quick. She’d trusted Dean. He had been her husband and he betrayed her.
Trust was something she never gave freely. She’d been burned so many times by so-called friends. She’d thought she’d been able to trust her husband. The one person who’d held her heart. So when he’d done the unthinkable she’d had a hard time believing in any one else, in trusting another person. Intimacy was a huge leap of faith, letting someone see that vulnerable side to you.
So, yeah, it had been a long time since she’d even contemplated thinking about a man in a sexual way. It had been a while since a tingle of excitement at the possibility of something more had revved her motor, but when his lips brushed against her knuckles suddenly the cold winter temperatures had no longer bothered her.
Sam’s blue eyes were twinkling mischievously. He was a bad boy. There was no mistaking it, but the way he leaned against the bar, the emotional walls he had in place, the devilry in those blue, blue eyes. Sam was the kind of man her mother had always warned her to steer clear of. Yet it had been the nice man, the respectable one, whom her mother had approved of, who had betrayed her trust.
Besides, she was just flirting with this handsome heir of a Scottish laird in an upscale Manhattan bar. It didn’t have to go any further than this.
Why not?
It might be nice to cut loose and celebrate a new life, at a new hospital. Tonight she didn’t have to be a world-renowned maternal-fetal surgeon. Tonight she just had to be Mindy. She’d never see this guy again. He wouldn’t use her or hurt her.
She could just be Mindy. Lonely and scared out of her mind Mindy, but still…
What was he saying? Oh, yes, he thought she sounded in pain. Great.
She giggled nervously.
Maybe he sensed she needed a change of topic because he asked, “So, what makes me so funny, then? Is it the accent that amuses you so much? Or is it my boyish charm?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, making her melt just a bit.
“Boyish charm for sure.” She smiled at him, which was easy to do. She couldn’t recall ever smiling and flirting with Dean, but, then, she had always been a wallflower. Shy and meek. This was new, it felt good. She picked up her drink and took a sip, wincing at the burn of alcohol. Honestly, she didn’t know why she’d ordered wine, she wasn’t much of a drinker.
“Something wrong with your wine?” Sam asked.
“No, nothing. It’s fine. I don’t usually go to bars.”
“Then can I ask why you wanted to brave the harsh, bitter environment of winter to come to a bar and suffer through what looks to be a very painful glass of wine.”
Mindy shrugged. “As I said, I’m new here. I wanted to meet people.”
Sam leaned over. “Well, you’ve met me.”
“You’re laying it on very thick now.”
“It amuses me to do so.” He cleared his throat and then swigged down the last of his Scotch. “There, that’s better. My mellow American accent is back. What do you think?”
“I prefer the Scottish one.” Then she giggled.
It was pathetic that she was giggling. It had been a while since she’d dated or flirted, but when you spent your whole career operating on such delicate humans as fetuses you didn’t really have much of a life. Not when their tiny little lives were in your hands. Not when their mothers’ lives were in your hands. She spent a lot of time in research, in ORs, sitting by patients’ bedsides.
Too many happy families depended on her and being one of the top surgeons in her field meant she was in high demand.
There was no time for socializing or anything else. She’d met Dean when they had both been interns, learning under the same surgeon. They’d both been maternal-fetal specialists. They’d both been on the same trajectory.
Or so she’d thought.
“Dean, don’t you want to have kids? I’m ready. I think we’re ready.”
“We’re not ready, Mindy. You just think you’re ready. You work around kids and babies all day long. We have to focus on our careers now. Once we’re both really settled and in the top of our chosen fields, then we’ll settle down. We’ll have a couple of kids.”
And then that had never happened and now it wouldn’t happen because, number one, she was no longer Dean’s wife, number two, he was still in California, and, number three, Dean was gay.
There had been a lot of sniggers in the private practice she’d worked at in Los Angeles with Dean about how she’d found out he’d been cheating on her. Mindy had known Owen was gay, he had been her best friend. She didn’t care that Dean was gay, it was the fact that he’d gone behind her back and cheated on her with Owen and that the two of them had been carrying on for over a year and hadn’t told her. She’d shared her insecurities with Owen about her marriage. She’d trusted him too and he’d used those secret hurts and concerns against her.
That’s what had hurt the most. Dean knew everything she’d told Owen.
“You look angry all of a sudden. Are you okay?” Sam asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.
“I’m fine.” Well, she wasn’t. Not really. She was still letting Dean and Owen get to her. Even though it had been a year since her divorce had been finalized.
Dean and Owen had moved on and were in the process of adopting a child.
A child. Mindy had wanted a child for five years, but Dean had never been ready and Owen had told her not to push Dean on the matter.
“I’m fine,” she said again, and swigged back the last of her Merlot. “Just. Fine.”
So many years of her life wasted. Too many.
“I don’t think you are.” Sam got up. “Do you want me to walk you home?”
“You can do more than walk me home.” She wasn’t sure if it was the wine or what, but she grabbed the collar of Sam’s sweater, or where there would’ve been a collar if he wasn’t wearing a V-neck, and pulled him close to her, planting a kiss on his lips because she had to see for herself if those lips against hers would be just as thrilling as when they’d brushed against her knuckles.
And God help her. They were.
Stop. Stop. Stop.
Only she couldn’t. His arms went around her, his strong hands on her back as their bodies pressed together. The kiss deepened, so even if she wanted to turn back now she couldn’t. It had been so long since she’d had this kind of human contact.
So long that she’d forgotten what it was like and maybe even forgotten that she craved it, to have a man be aroused by her and not by her best friend.
Just her.
Sam broke off the kiss. “If you continue to do that I don’t think I’ll be able to stop.”