Playboy Doc's Mistletoe Kiss. Tina Beckett

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didn’t like it.

      Not much got to him in his thirty-five years. Except a woman crying. It brought back memories of unhappy times and unhappy people.

      He’d been willing to let her stand there as he worked, but the increasing tightness in his throat finally drove him to clear it and cross over to her.

      “She’s going to be okay, you know.” He kept his voice low and soothing, partly to avoid startling the sleeping babies and partly to keep her from realizing how her obvious grief had affected him.

      She didn’t even glance in his direction. “It’s my fault she’s here in the first place.”

      That made him frown. “Sometimes these things just happen.”

      “Do they?”

      Light brown wounded eyes swung to meet his and the punch to his midsection was nothing like that earlier uneasiness.

      “Yes.” He leaned his shoulder against the same wall so that their faces would be level with each other. Long and lean, she was still a head shorter than he was. “And you need to get some rest. You can’t do her any good, if you’re exhausted.”

      Her eyes closed for a minute and her chest rose and fell before she looked at him again. “I’m not her mother.”

      Those words made his frown deepen. Had he detected a wistful note in her voice? “I know who you are.”

      “I’m Jessica …” She blinked, arms wrapping around her waist. “You do?”

      Why so surprised? They’d spoken on the phone earlier today.

      “Did you think you were invisible or something? If so, you should know—” he leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper “—your invisibility cloak might need recharging.”

      That was the truth, because with her long blonde hair, soft caring eyes and a laugh that could melt the hardest of hearts, there was no way he could have missed noticing her from the moment she’d started working at the hospital. And because of that, he’d done his damnedest to avoid her. Until now. When he couldn’t.

      A trace of a smile appeared on her face. “Really? Because most times, I pretty much feel … Scratch that.” She stood upright with a shrug. “Sometimes people confuse me with my sister. We do look quite alike.”

      The sister?

      He’d seen her. Had been there right after her baby was born. And while there were obvious similarities in coloring and bone structure, that ended when you looked beyond, to what was inside. Maybe her sister’s frown lines were due to worry about her child, but Dean didn’t think so. Because Jessica’s brows were smooth and clear. The only lines she had were little crinkles at the far corners of her eyes that spoke of smiles and laughter.

      “Do you think so?” he asked. “Because I’m just not seeing it.”

      Up went delicate brows. “We’re twins. Identical twins.”

      He couldn’t stop himself from poking at what was evidently a sore spot. This woman revealed a lot about herself without saying much at all. “So you’re saying not even your mother could tell you apart?”

      “Of course she could, it’s just that …” Another quick breath. “Some people can’t.”

      Dean glanced at the babies across from him, a rare moment when they were still all snoozing away, the clicking of ventilators and beeping machinery the only sounds in the room besides the two of them. He’d like to keep it that way, if possible. These little ones needed rest. Lots of it. They weren’t the only ones. Jessica Black looked well and truly exhausted, so much so that he was surprised she was still standing. She needed to take a break.

      Against his better judgement, Dean was going to suggest she do just that.

      “Have you been home yet?”

      She shook her head, still staring at the cots. “I don’t want to leave.”

      “I know, but you look like you could use some downtime—I know I could. Do you want to go somewhere and grab a bite? My treat.”

      Something about the way she’d blamed herself for her niece’s premature birth made him want to find out why she would think something like that. The time he’d seen her sister beside the baby’s incubator had given him pause. Jess had been there as well, but the sisters hadn’t spoken a word to each other. In fact, the chill in the room had been almost palpable.

      Instead of nodding or politely turning him down, Jess blinked. “Excuse me?”

      Not quite the reaction he’d expected. “I was asking if you wanted to get something to eat.”

      “I heard what you said.”

      Okay, so coming over here to comfort her was evidently the wrong choice. She didn’t seem to want it. Any of it.

      Since he’d already asked, though, what choice did he have except to see this through to the bitter end?

      “So, is that a yes? Or a no?”

      “Oh, it’s definitely a no. Not interested.” She shook her head. “I may look like her, but I’m definitely not her. And your timing, by the way, is lousy.”

      Timing?

      Bloody hell. Did she think he was trying to hit on her because she looked like her sister? If so, this day was just getting better and better. He’d heard bits and pieces of enough conversations to know that he had a reputation. An undeserved one. He was squeaky clean as far as keeping his professional life separate from his private. Beyond that, though, all bets were off.

      He forced himself to glance at his watch and give her an easy grin, even as his back molars ground against each other. “Really? Because where I come from, timing is everything. And this is the time I normally eat supper. Not go to bed.”

      There were several seconds of absolute silence. When she looked at him again, her cheeks bloomed with red.

      Maybe he should soften his words a little. “I promise this is about sitting down to a meal and giving yourself a much-needed break. Nothing else.”

      “Oh, Lord.” She tipped her head back against the wall and closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I just … I thought …”

      Yeah, sweetheart. I know exactly what you thought. And she was partially right. With a roomful of sick babies, and after a particularly exhausting shift, bed was exactly where his mind was heading.

      As in falling into it. To sleep. By himself.

      “Supper,” he confirmed. “I’ll stay on my side of the table the whole time.”

      If anything, her color deepened. “It’s been a difficult day. It was my parents’ anniversary. And with Abbie going into labor in the middle of it, I’m not thinking straight.”

       All my fault.

      Wasn’t that what she’d said when he first came over to talk to her?

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