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Waking Up With Dr Off-Limits
Amy Andrews
Table of Contents
Praise for Amy Andrews:
‘A poignant tale of a man determined to make a new start
for himself and his son, and a woman who sees herself in the child whose reserved manner reminds her of his father, ALESSANDRO AND THE CHEERY NANNY by Amy Andrews drew me into this enchanting story of rediscovering love for them both.’ —www.cataromance.com on ALESSANDRO AND THE CHEERY NANNY
‘An enthralling tale of one man knowing when he’s met the woman of his dreams
and yet she’s afraid of commitment, VALENTINO’S PREGNANCY BOMBSHELL by Amy Andrews left this reader thoroughly enjoying the experience of the relationship between Valentino and Paige while also reaching for the tissues … This is definitely a book any reader of the romance genre needs to read.’ —www.cataromance.com on VALENTINO’S PREGNANCY BOMBSHELL
About the Author
AMY ANDREWS has always loved writing, and still can’t quite believe that she gets to do it for a living. Creating wonderful heroines and gorgeous heroes and telling their stories is an amazing way to pass the day. Sometimes they don’t always act as she’d like them to—but then neither do her kids, so she’s kind of used to it. Amy lives in the very beautiful Samford Valley, with her husband and aforementioned children, along with six brown chooks and two black dogs. She loves to hear from her readers. Drop her a line at www.amyandrews.com.au
Dedications
To three fabulous writers—Fiona, Carol and Emily—it’s been amazing working with you on this project.
And to über-cool surfie chick Jaiden Allan,
who answered every dumb surfing question I had without rolling her eyes once—thank you.
CHAPTER ONE
THE last thing Jessica Donaldson expected to find in her bed on a stinking hot morning was a naked man. And certainly not this particular man—the source of every one of her feverish fantasies for the last three and a bit years.
Dr Adam Carmichael—occasional housemate, surgeon extraordinaire, playboy incarnate.
For a moment she wondered if her sleep-deprived brain had conjured him up. Was she that tired after her midnight call-in and subsequent eight hours of surgery she’d actually imagine a man in her bed?
And not just any man but Adam?
Wasn’t he operating in some Third World country or schmoozing bigwigs at The Hague? She shut her eyes, shook her head to clear the fog of fatigue and opened them again. Nope. Still there. And still most definitely Adam.
Jess stood in the doorway, wrapped in nothing but a towel, droplets of water clinging to her undried skin. Suddenly she was very awake. A frigid blast of air from the wall-mounted cooling unit enveloped her, soothing a fiery blush.
The sheer perfection of his body momentarily distracted her from the fact that he was in her bed.
Asleep.
Naked. She’d never had a man in her bed, naked or otherwise, and her breath quickened that the first time it had happened fate had delivered her the man of her dreams.
Would it be wrong to look her fill?
Jess prided herself on having a strong moral code. There’d never been a cause to question it before.
But.
The morning sunlight poked insistent fingers into the darkened room from around the edges of the blackout blind, illuminating his deep golden tan to perfection.
And he was in her bed.
So … she looked her fill.
Adam lay on his stomach, his sandy blond head turned away from the window. Both arms were spread out, easily reaching the sides. His back was a tantalising palate of planes and angles,
