Dr. Ethan Tulane is juggling more than even his type A
personality can handle. Between his new job as chief of
surgery and learning to be a dad to Simon, his adopted son,
Ethan is desperate. Enter Megan Rose, the temporary nanny.
Simon bonds instantly with her, which makes Ethan heave a
sigh of relief—even as he notices she's very good-looking.
It's not long before they're exploring those sparks between
them. Megan might be the one woman he could have forever
with. Too bad there's something she's not sharing—something
that could send her to the door before he can talk
commitment. Ethan can't let that happen, so it's time for
the big guns—letting Simon persuade her!
I think adoption is a true gift and this story is a true
gift to the reader. Kay Stockham has become one of those
authors you scan the shelves at your local market for. Her
writing is so diversely unique and her characters are
inspiring. This story was wonderful! I'm not sure there
is another word for it. Megan goes from being a nanny to
Simon to being his mom, which is another gift for this
pericous little boy. This story will make your heart swell
with love for these characters. You want nothing but the
best for them and in the end they all get each other and
that's the best gift any of them can have.
Dr. Ethan Tulane is juggling more than even his type A
personality can handle. Between his new job as chief of
surgery and learning to be a dad to Simon, his adopted son,
Ethan is desperate. Enter Megan Rose, the temporary nanny.
Simon bonds instantly with her, which makes Ethan heave a
sigh of relief—even as he notices she's very good-looking.
It's not long before they're exploring those sparks between
them. Megan might be the one woman he could have forever
with. Too bad there's something she's not sharing—something
that could send her to the door before he can talk
commitment. Ethan can't let that happen, so it's time for
the big guns—letting Simon persuade her!
Excerpt
She should have realized her perfect little sister would one
day grow up to be the perfect little newly wedded wife, with
the perfect house in the country, the perfect brand-new car
in the driveway. It was all so…
"Perfect,"
she whispered to herself. Megan Rose curled her fingers
around the steering wheel, the split leather duct-taped
together and sticky beneath her palms.
Growing up,
she and Jenn had rarely seen eye to eye on things, mostly
because Jenn was a thinker and Megan was a doer and doers
generally acted first and thought things through later,
thereby regularly ticking the thinkers off.
Megan
sagged in the seat and went over the speech in her head, the
one she'd spent the past eight hours practicing, when all
she longed to do was leave. And why not? Hell hadn't frozen
over and yet here she was in Beauty, Tennessee, begging her
goody-two-shoes little sister for help. This would never
work.
Unbidden, she glanced beside her at a portion
of the accumulated remainder of her life. Packed in a small,
single suitcase and duffel, her clothes were piled in the
passenger seat, the trunk full of boxes. Behind her, a
pillow and blanket were tossed haphazardly
aside.
Unbuckling her seat belt, she stretched to
reach the pillow and blanket and shoved them into the leg
space behind her seat. There. Everyone traveling long
distances had a pillow in the car, didn't they? She coughed
weakly, dread colliding with fear and a boatload of
you-should've-known-betters along the way.
Jenn's
gonna slam that glossy black door in your
face.
If so, then Megan would deal with it. She
owed Jenn an apology and, once that was done, if Jenn still
didn't forgive her, well, whatever. Megan would move on to
Plan B.
Plan B being?
She stared at
the entry, at the pumpkins lining the steps, the scarecrow
winking at her with its freaky little face. Witch,
jack-o'-lantern and ghost window clings filled the windows
around the door, but the old-fashioned wrought-iron light
fixtures flanking each side of the structure gave it the
Jenn-like cuteness that grated on Megan's last nerve.
Couldn't her baby sister have one flaw? Did everything have
to be so Martha-Freaking-Stewart perfect all the
time?
The only ugly thing on the property presently
was her nightmare on wheels. She should've parked down the
street and walked to the house. But it wasn't too late. Jenn
didn't know Megan was outside. She'd been sitting here a
couple minutes staring at the electric candles in the
windows and the door bedecked with a glorious fall wreath,
and no one inside the two-story home was aware of her
presence cluttering up the pristine driveway. And since Jenn
hadn't seen her…
Scrambling, Megan turned the key to
make her getaway and swore when the car coughed, sputtered
and rattled like a chain-smoker but didn't start. Come
on, leave me an ounce of
pride.
Nothing.
Megan lowered her
forehead to the steering wheel. She'd coasted into town on
fumes, and $3.23 wasn't going to get much in the way of gas,
food or shelter. She needed a place to stay and, like it or
not, Jenn's was the last place on earth. The last
place Megan wanted to be, the last place she was
welcome.
The last place Sean will look for you.
He won't come here. He'd never come here, not when he knows
how Jenn feels about you.
A self-deprecating
smile pulled at her lips. The saying was true—paybacks were
hell. Pride was a sin and this was her punishment. "You're
eatin' crow, Megs. Better grab the salt."
Inhaling
and coughing as a result, she ignored the tightness in her
chest and the fatigue that made her want to curl up in a
ball and pushed upright, climbing out of the car before she
could wimp out. Just play it easy. You're here for a
visit, here to apologize. That's not a lie. Jenn doesn't
have to know all the nasty details.
She winced
at the blinding sun shining down from the cloud-spotted sky.
The late-September day was bright and beautiful, a balmy
seventy-four degrees. But she didn't feel the warmth.
Another cough racked her as she straightened her shoulders,
smoothed her features and attempted to psych herself up for
the confrontation to come.
"Je veux partir! Je
veux aller à la maison!"
Megan blinked at the
rapid-fire French. That wasn't something often heard in
Small Town, U.S.A. She couldn't tell if it was coming from
Jenn's or a neighbor's, but the high, shrill voice of the
kid indicated he wanted to leave and he wanted to do it
now.
Join the club, kid.
"Simon, no.
Simon!"
Dave's shout from Alvin and the Chipmunks
sounded in her head. Wrong character since Alvin was
the one always getting yelled at, but the memory was there
all the same. If anything, she was Alvin and Jenn—Jenn was
Simon, a brainiac always showing off how smart he was and
saying "I told you so."
She's going to say it.
You know she's going to.
Megan ignored the
harping voice in her head and marched her aching body up the
walk to the steps, fighting the urge to kick one of the
pumpkins off its perch. Distracted, she tripped and nearly
fell, her grip on the iron railing the only thing that kept
her from making an even bigger fool of herself than showing
up on Jenn's doorstep like the beggar she now
was.
How could a matter of days change so many
things? Since leaving Sean she'd lived pretty much paycheck
to paycheck, but after leaving California…
You
didn't have to take off last time. That guy asking about you
was probably just a coincidence.
Maybe. But her
instincts screamed that there were no coincidences and she
wasn't willing to take the risk.
By the time Megan
reached the door, her legs trembled. What would Jenn do?
Say? Would she invite her in or tell her to
F-off?
Biting her lip, Megan forced her hand up and
knocked twice. Just breathe, say you're sorry, and see
what happens. Besides, sweet Jenn doesn't use that kind of
language. If anything, she'll be polite when she tells you
to get lost.
Her pulse pounded in her ears, and
she gripped the railing in her fist. She stood here on this
stupid landing like a door-to-door salesman. No choice,
remember?
Megan eyed the new Honda parked in
front of the garage. It had to be Jenn's. The last time
she'd talked to her father he'd told her that Jenn's husband
was the tall, dark and brooding type. No way would a guy
like that drive the cute little Civic. A pearly white, it
had a pair of miniature flip-flops dangling from the
rearview mirror and screamed happy
bride.
So don't screw it up for her. Leave
her alone. Take one of the sleazeball sex offers if you have
to. What do you have to lose? Respect? Dignity? You lost
those when you crawled through the mud at Sean's
feet.
"Je veux partir! Je veux aller à la
maison!"
Now that definitely sounded as if it
came from the back of the house.
Megan carefully
retraced her steps, defiantly nudging a pumpkin off its post
on the way down and pretending she didn't notice it fall
into the mulch with a dull thump. Back at her
Buick, she fought the urge to climb in and take off, and
then remembered she couldn't go anywhere because the ugly
thing wouldn't start. Didn't that just suck.
Megan
walked alongside the garage to the back of the house and,
sure enough, there was Jenn. Her sister stood beneath a tree
staring up at leaves hinting at a cheerful shade of
orange-red.
Jenn looked exactly the same. She still
had that beautiful, Marilyn Monroe hourglass shape with full
breasts and curvy hips, whereas Megan had learned Victoria's
true secret before she'd hit puberty.
That's why
scarecrows freak you out. You look like
them.
Megan waited for Jenn to notice her, but
Jenn's attention was focused entirely up in the tree. What
was she looking at? Megan squinted and finally spotted
severely thin, short black legs dangling above Jenn's head,
just out of reach.
"Simon, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I
don't understand you. I know you want Ethan, but he had to
go to the hospital. You know, the hospital? He'll
be back soon. Now, please, come down."
"Je veux
aller à la maison."
"Simon, come down. You're
going to get hurt." Jenn pointed to the ground and waited
expectantly.
Perfect, patient Jenn. The kid looked
comfortable enough in the tree. Simon's blindingly white,
black-and-red Nike Shox were paired with equally clean
khaki-colored shorts and a bright green T-shirt with an
emblem over the pocket. The clothes hung on the boy, not
fitting his too-thin frame and birdlike legs.
Megan
moved closer and got a look at the kid's face. Poor thing.
His cheeks were streaked with tears and the boy shook nearly
as much as she did at facing Jenn, which was funny
considering Jenn was about as scary as
Thumper.
So why are you so freaked
out?
Because Jenn was Jenn, perfect in every
way. Megan would bet her baby sis had never had to sleep in
her car or forgo meals because of life's little backhanded
jokes.
"Je ne veux pas rester ici. Je veux Dr.
Ethan!"
"Simon—"
"He wants to go home, to
Dr. Ethan."
Jenn whirled around so fast she stumbled
before she caught herself by placing a hand against the
trunk of the tree. The breeze picked up and the fallen
leaves rustled around them, the clouds overhead moving to
cover the sun in a perfectly timed moment so highly dramatic
any director would've been moved to tears and screaming for
his Oscar.
To Megan, it just confirmed what she'd
learned years ago. God had a quirky sense of humor. And
given her behavior of times past, she'd learned she was
usually on the receiving end of it.
Just trying
to change your ways, Megan. You can't fault Him for that.
How many times had her mother said that to her in her
oh-so-prim voice?
Megan watched as Jenn's expression
changed from startled and flushed to one of utter disbelief.
Jenn's mouth flattened into a tight ridge, her face turning
as pale as the sheets fluttering behind her on the
clothesline.
"You've got to be kidding me."
O-kay. Megan dug deep and managed a smile. "Trick
or treat."
Jenn blinked at her a couple times in
obvious disbelief. "What are you doing here? And what on
earth happened to your hair?"
Megan smoothed a hand
over her recently dyed brown locks. She hoped the change in
hair color might buy her some time since Sean and his
investigators—should her suspicions be correct—would be
looking for a blond. She took a tentative step closer. "I
came to see you," she said, lifting her hand toward her
hair. "And I felt the need for a change."
She
couldn't hold Jenn's gaze for long so she locked sights with
the kid up in the tree. Cute. Young, maybe five or six years
old, and definitely too thin, but cute. He watched them with
interest, his sniffling cries momentarily halted in the face
of the distraction and the drama playing out before
him.
The kid was upset but not overly so. Just making
a fuss. He looked more tired than anything, his long, thick
lashes falling low over the most gorgeous
caramel-honey-colored eyes she'd ever seen. What a
heartbreaker. "Elle a peur que tu te fasses mal, Simon.
S'il te plaît, descends delà."
"What did you
tell him?"
Jenn could be so suspicious. Then
again, how many times had Megan given her baby sis reason to
be? "I told him you were going to make him eat worms if he
didn't mind you."
Jenn gasped. "Megan!"
Megan
rubbed her pounding head. "I'm kidding. I said you're afraid
he'll get hurt, and that he should come
down."
"Je veux aller chez rnoi. Je ne I'aime pas
ici."
"He wants to go home. He doesn't like it
here."
"Home! Home!"
Jenn turned back to the
boy. She held up her arms and coaxed him with a come-here
waggle of her fingers. "I know you want to go home, honey.
And you will. Soon. Come down. Please?"
The
kid stubbornly shook his head and Jenn dropped her arms with
a put-out sigh. Megan had a hard time hiding a smirk. She
liked this kid. Trying not to cough, she asked, "Want me to
try?"
"Fine. See what you can do. But just remember
he's five, not twenty-five."
Megan widened her eyes
and ignored the stabs of pain shooting through her head as a
result. Jeez, her head hurt, her chest had an elephant
sitting on it and Jenn worried about her doing something to
the kid? "What, no sex jokes or
come-ons?"
"Megan."
Megan wrapped her
arms over her front in an attempt to keep warm. The sun had
peeked back out from behind the clouds, but wasn't heating
her up.
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