The Surgeon's Secret Baby. Ann Christopher

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The Surgeon's Secret Baby - Ann Christopher Mills & Boon Kimani

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She was savvy enough to know that the legalities had to be observed in cases like this. He liked that.

      “I want to be part of his life.”

      This time, her agreement took a little longer in coming. She looked startled, as though she hadn’t thought quite so far ahead.

      “Well,” she began.

      “That’s not up for debate.” Later, when his thoughts weren’t buzzing like wasps in a jar, he’d have to give some thought to how he could go from not knowing he had a son to insisting on a place in his son’s life—all within the space of ten minutes. For now, all he knew was that boys needed fathers, and he planned to be a great one. Just because he’d missed the first several years of Jalen’s life didn’t mean he’d willingly miss any more. “Understand?”

      A curt nod was his only answer.

      Those details thus concluded, they stared at each other in shell-shocked silence.

      Then some of his anger at being blindsided like this began to surface. It wasn’t about the child or the money. It was about this woman he’d never seen before having the power to walk into his life and rearrange it, as though she’d swiped her hand across the chessboard, ruining a game well in progress.

      “You’ll want child support, I suppose.”

      Much to his surprise, she looked shocked. “Child support?”

      Wow. She was good with the innocence and outrage. He’d have to remember that. “That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Money?”

      “My God,” she cried, “weren’t you listening? I don’t want your stupid money! I need your kidney!”

      For the second time that day, the world dropped out from under him.

      Healthy kids didn’t need kidneys. Neither did mildly sick kids.

      When he finally got his voice to work, it was an embarrassing croak. “What’s wrong with him?”

      “Jalen’s in kidney failure.”

      The color bled out of Thomas’s face, leaving it a sickly gray in jarring contrast to the brown of his throat. After a second or two of indecision, he slipped into that medical zone and tried to take charge, the way that doctors do. That air of confidence used to reassure her back in the early days, but that was before she realized that, more often than not, doctors didn’t know a damn thing about getting Jalen better.

      “Polycystic kidney disease?” he demanded.

      Like it mattered at this point. “No. He had a terrible case of E. Coli about two years ago, and that ruined his kidneys. Put him into kidney failure.”

      Undaunted, he plowed ahead. “Who’s your doc? We’ve got a great specialist on staff—”

      Was he for real? Or was it just that he couldn’t comprehend a world where his larger-than-life medical connections and abilities didn’t win the day? Whatever his issue was, Jalen was running out of time and she was way out of patience.

      “We don’t need a specialist. We have a specialist. Lots of them. And Jalen has been on dialysis for almost two years, and he’s not doing well. Do you get that, Dr. Bradshaw? If I want my son to live—and I do—then I need to find him a compatible kidney quick, fast, and in a hurry, because my kidneys aren’t a match, and neither are anyone’s in my family. All of whom, by the way, live on the West Coast and have already been tested. And you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t want my son to sit on the transplant list for another two years, waiting for a match to materialize out of nowhere.”

      “But—”

      Something inside her head snapped. Jalen was knocking pretty hard on death’s door, and this fool wasn’t coming up to speed fast enough. Hell, if she gave him another minute, maybe he’d start yammering about going back to square one and getting another opinion about whether Jalen had renal failure at all. Maybe he’d suggest a dose of amoxicillin to see if that got Jalen back on his feet.

      Didn’t he understand how hard she’d fought to get this far? Didn’t he know that she was desperate and overwrought and had nowhere else to turn? What more did she have to do?

      Losing it completely, she smacked her palms on top his desk and leaned down to get in his face. “Don’t but me! My son is sick! He’s going to die! Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Well, here it is. Help me. You’re my only hope. You’re my only hope! You’re my only—”

      “Okay.” There was a flash of movement, and then, suddenly, he was on his feet, turning her to face him and grabbing her biceps to keep her from crumpling to the floor. The next thing she knew, he was in her face, instead of the other way around, soothing and reassuring. “Shhh, Lia,” he murmured. “It’s okay. You don’t have to do this by yourself anymore. It’s okay. I’ll help you. It’s okay.”

      Hysteria had her around the throat, ready to suck her under, but she gasped in a shaky breath and tried to hold it off. Just for a little while longer, until she was certain she’d heard right and wasn’t getting her hopes up only so they could be smashed on the rocks.

      “Y-you believe me?”

      He stared at her and then, slowly, nodded.

      “You’ll be tested to see if you’re a match?”

      “If the DNA test first confirms that he’s my son, then yes.”

      Could it be this easy? After all her struggles to get to this point?

      She stared into his eyes, determined to root out any trickery.

      There was none. Only his unwavering gaze, absolute and determined. And she knew, suddenly, that they had real hope now, she and Jalen. Better than that, they had a powerful ally. Thomas Bradshaw would help them in their fight against this terrible enemy, who had so many more resources than they did.

      The relief was so sharp and overwhelming that her knees went squishy. A sob filled up her throat but not before she managed to whisper two words:

      “Thank you.”

      Gratitude made her lose her head. Before she knew what she was doing, she was wrapping him in her arms, hugging him hard and trying to show how thankful she was, even if she couldn’t say it. Naturally, he stiffened with shock, probably wondering if he should have his receptionist get security in there to kick Lia out after all.

      Her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment as she got a grip. “Sorry,” she muttered, easing up and ready to back away and let the poor man go. But then a strange thing happened.

      Thomas hugged her back, gathering her in arms that were hard and strong and bringing her up against a broad chest, which was a lovely resting spot for her weary head. A croon rumbled in his throat, reassuring her without words, and the delicious warm scent of his skin, fresh from a recent shower, she thought, fogged her brain.

      That was when reality intruded.

      It had been years since she’d been pressed close to any man like this, and she wasn’t immune to this particular man’s appeal, even in her frazzled state. They fit together too well, and it shouldn’t

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