She felt good against him. Warm and soft and very feminine.
He didn’t want to let her go.
“Connor?”
The lipstick she’d applied earlier had long since worn off, yet her lips were still rosy and moist. They were slightly parted in question, giving him just a glimpse of teeth and tongue.
He swallowed.
She must have picked up on the emotions suddenly running through him. Her eyes narrowed and darkened. A low groan wedged in his throat.
“Connor?” Mia said again, her voice little more than a whisper this time.
Maybe later he would come up with a good excuse for his actions. At least an explanation. But for now…
He lowered his head and captured her mouth with his.
Diagnosis: Daddy
By
Gina Wilkins
GINA WILKINS is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than seventy novels. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.
A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms Wilkins sold her first book in 1987 and has been writing full-time since. She has appeared on the Waldenbooks, B. Dalton and USA TODAY bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of the Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of Romantic Times BOOKreviews.
Available in August 2010 from Mills & Boon® Special Moments™
Daddy on Demand by Helen R Myers & Déjà You by Lynda Sandoval
A Father for Danny by Janice Carter & Baby Be Mine by Eve Gaddy
The Mummy Makeover by Kristi Gold & Mummy for Hire by Cathy Gillen Thacker
The Pregnant Bride Wore White by Susan Crosby
Sophie’s Secret by Tara Taylor Quinn
Her So-Called Fiancé by Abby Gaines
Diagnosis: Daddy by Gina Wilkins
For Dr Kerry Wilkins Snook. I’m so proud of you. Thanks for all your help.
Chapter One
“You look terrible.”
Connor Hayes grimaced and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Thanks a lot, Mia. I can always count on you to boost my ego.”
Maybe she had been a little blunt, but Mia Doyle wasn’t about to take back her words. As attractive as her friend was, he looked pretty ragged at the moment. His sandy hair was in dire need of a trim, his navy blue eyes were red-rimmed and bleary, and he had the grayish pallor of someone who hadn’t seen the sun in several days. He was only thirty, but she suspected anyone meeting him for the first time today would probably guess him to be a few years older. “When’s the last time you had a full night’s sleep?”
“Define ‘full.’”
“More than four hours.”
“Hmm…it’s been a while,” he admitted.
She sighed and shook her head. “Really, Connor, you can’t go on like this. You have to get some rest.”
“I will,” he assured her. “After this test tomorrow. It’s going to be a killer.”
“They’re all killers,” she reminded him, setting a plate of food in front of him. She had to push a pile of books, notebooks and papers out of the way to find a spot on his kitchen table for the plate. “Don’t you think you’ll perform better on the test if you’re rested and fresh?”
He sighed heavily and gripped the fork she thrust into his hand. “Probably.”
“But you’ll still sit up most of the night studying,” she concluded in resignation.
The smile he gave her was sheepish. “Yeah. Probably.”
Shaking her head, she cleared off a few inches of table for her own plate. She had brought a chicken and broccoli casserole, filling and healthy. Knowing the grueling schedule her friend and former coworker was enduring during his first year of medical school, she had gotten into the habit of bringing meals to him a couple of times a week. Sometimes she quizzed him for upcoming exams, using study guides and practice tests from his stacks of materials. He seemed to enjoy her company during his near-total exile from his former social life.
She worried about him not taking good care of himself because of his obsession with doing well in medical school. And she missed seeing him every day at work, sharing lunches and class prep times together, bonding over stories of their most difficult students. This school year just hadn’t been the same without Connor there to greet her every morning with a smile and a bad joke.
They had been friends for more than three years, having both been teachers at a nearby Little Rock, Arkansas, high school. Mia taught advanced placement literature classes; Connor had taught health and physical education and had been an assistant coach for the football team. Early in their friendship, he had confessed that he wanted to attend medical school. He’d worried that he’d waited too long to even try, but she’d encouraged—well, nagged him into taking the MCAT and applying to medical school. No one had been happier for him when he’d been accepted, even though she knew it would change their relationship significantly.
“This is really good, Mia. Thanks.”
She smiled wryly as he shoveled casserole into his mouth. He was eating as if he’d forgotten all about food until now. She suspected that he’d done just that. She didn’t bother to ask when he’d last had a complete meal. Judging by the evidence she’d seen scattered around the kitchen and in the overflowing wastebasket beneath the sink, he’d been living on TV dinners and energy bars since she’d last brought him a meal, three days earlier.
“More iced tea?” she asked.
“I’ll get it.”
But she was already on her feet. She refilled his glass and then her own before putting the pitcher back in the fridge.
“Thanks,” he murmured, lifting the glass to his lips.
“You’re welcome. Is there anything I can do to help you study after you’ve eaten? I’d be happy to quiz you.”
He looked at her somberly
