Surgeon Boss, Surprise Dad



Liz was going to have a baby.

His baby.

Liz, who was the most wonderful woman he’d ever met, who was the woman he loved, was going to have his baby.

Elation battled horror.

From the moment he’d been diagnosed with his Multiple Sclerosis he’d known he’d never have any children. How the hell could he have known he’d already fathered a baby?

How could he have a child when he’d only be condemning the child to a father with a disease that had the power to demand everything?

To have loved her, never wanting to hurt her, to keep from being a burden to her, he sure was doing a wrap job on Liz.

He’d told her he didn’t love her on the night she’d intended to tell him about their baby. In his mind he’d had a clear idea of what the right thing was—for him to set Liz free.

Her pregnancy changed everything.

She’d need him more than ever.

Oh, hell.

What had he done?

Janice Lynn has a Masters in Nursing from Vanderbilt University, and works as a nurse practitioner in a family practice. She lives in the southern United States with her husband, their four children, their Jack Russell—appropriately named Trouble—and a lot of unnamed dust bunnies that have moved in since she started her writing career. To find out more about Janice and her writing, visit www.janicelynn.com

Recent titles by the same author:

THE DOCTOR’S MEANT-TO-BE MARRIAGE

THE HEART SURGEON’S SECRET SON

THE DOCTOR’S PREGNANCY BOMBSHELL

SURGEON BOSS, SURPRISE DAD

BY

JANICE LYNN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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SURGEON BOSS, SURPRISE DAD

To my fabulous editor Lucy Brown.

Thanks for all you do to make me a better writer.

CHAPTER ONE

ASHES to ashes. Dust to dust.

The preacher’s words blurred in Liz’s mind like a hazy cloud.

She couldn’t believe Gramps was really gone, that she’d never again look into those twinkling sky-blue eyes, never hear him call for his “Liza girl” or hear his laughter. Not ever. A tear slid down her cheek.

Not that there had been much laughter over the past two years. There hadn’t. Gramps’s congestive heart failure had seen to that. His condition had been worsened by dementia near the end and she’d never known if she’d see recognition in his eyes or not. But those occasional glimmers, those few lucid moments had kept her going.

As much as her heart ached that he was gone, as much as she’d miss him, relief also washed over her. Never had she begrudged caring for her grandfather. Goodness knew, he’d cared for her when no one else had. But working full time as a registered nurse and coming home to relieve the hired nurse each night wore on a person’s resolve, their sleep, their mental and emotional state. Still, she’d have done it endlessly if it had meant Gramps getting better.

Only he hadn’t, and she’d known that no matter how much she did, she’d only been delaying the inevitable. Each day she’d seen him slip further away from the vital man he’d once been. She’d watched him long for death and eventually let go to the disease that had claimed his life.

Thank goodness for Adam. Without him she’d never have stayed sane these past few months.

Dr Adam Cline had been by her side, understanding when she’d cut their dates short if Sara, Gramps’s hired nurse, had called, understanding why she hadn’t been able to stay the night at his place, understanding why their relationship could never progress. She’d promised Gramps she wouldn’t put him in a nursing home as long as she could care for him, and she hadn’t. Somehow between she and Adam they’d managed to keep him at home.

She’d never expected Adam to take on the care of her seriously ill grandfather, but in many ways Adam had. He’d been wonderful.

Was wonderful.

She glanced at the tall, dark-haired man sitting next to her on the hard wooden pew. His strong fingers held her trembling ones while the preacher continued his moving eulogy. Her heart pinched at the tenderness with which Adam’s thumb caressed her palm in gentle, comforting circles.

She squeezed his hand, hoping to convey how much it meant that he was at her grandfather’s funeral. He’d confessed long ago to an aversion to funerals. She’d assured him she’d be OK and understood. Yet here he was for her to lean on, albeit tight-faced, making sure she managed through what she considered to be the hardest thing she’d ever gone through.

Much harder than when her mother had left for whatever had appealed more than her young daughter. Much harder than several years back when she’d been notified the father she’d never known had died in a motor vehicle accident.

Losing Gramps was like losing a part of herself because he’d loved her, raised her, encouraged and nurtured her to be the woman she’d become. She’d loved him with her whole heart.

Now he was gone.

Time crawled as the funeral services concluded and the guests relocated to the graveside for a final farewell.

Weariness swept over Liz, tugging at her already exhausted body, but she kept her chin high and her shoulders straight as she paid her last respects to the grandfather she’d loved.

More tears pricked her eyes when she tossed the first handful of dirt onto the lowered casket. She turned, grateful to find Adam’s broad shoulders waiting for her. She buried her face. His arms went around her, holding her close.

“Shh, sweetheart, he’s in a better place.”

She remained in his arms long enough to pull herself together, then wiped at her eyes. “I know.”

Gramps was in a better place. Had to be. Those last few weeks he hadn’t known who she was, had only registered that he couldn’t breathe. He’d literally been drowning in his own body fluids, and no amount of diuretics had eased his suffering.

She sniffled, then received the line-up of graveside mourners. Gramps hadn’t been social for years and had outlived most of his friends from younger days so most in attendance were her coworkers and friends. Adam’s hand pressed into her lower back, providing the comfort she needed to accept each well-meant condolence, each heartfelt hug.

Her friend Kelly hovered close, keeping a watchful eye and offering her support repeatedly. A girl couldn’t ask for a better friend, but at the moment Liz just wanted to curl into a lonely ball and cry at the loss of her grandfather.

By the time Adam assisted her into his luxurious two-seater, she practically dropped onto the plush seat. She couldn’t recall ever feeling so drained mentally, emotionally, or physically, not even after pulling a double shift.

Now she’d go home to a house filled with reminders of Gramps, filled with a hospital bed in her living room because there hadn’t been room for his bed and equipment in either of the two tiny bedrooms. Plus, she’d liked him being able to look out the windows at the small flower garden she kept well tended even if it meant getting up at the crack of dawn to do so.

Gramps had loved roses, said they reminded him of her grandmother. Even after he’d forgotten most everything, he’d lie in his bed and stare at the blooms outside the window for hours. Liz was pretty sure better times had filled his thoughts, times when his body and mind had been strong, and he’d been happy.

“You OK?” Adam asked before sliding his key into the ignition.

She took a deep breath. Time to start letting go, to cherish her memories of her grandfather rather than aching over her loss. She could do this. “Just really tired.”

Adam paused from reversing the car out of the parking place to look at her. Tension marred the handsome lines of his face. What did those all too intense eyes of his see?

“It’s been a long couple of days,” he finally said, easing the car out of the lot. “You’ve not slept enough to count.”

True. She’d barely closed her eyes since the moment she’d tried to resuscitate Gramps and failed. Had it only been early Sunday morning?

“There’ll be plenty of time for sleep now that Gramps is gone.” She tried not to sniffle at the words. At the reality her life had become a whole lot less complicated three days ago. And very empty. Panic seized her chest, and she fought another wave of tears. “What am I going to do without him?”

“You’ll get by.” Adam shot her an empathetic look. “One day at a time. With each day that passes the pain will be a little more bearable. Life will go on, Liz. I promise.”

One day at a time. In her head, she knew he was right, but her heart didn’t want right. Her heart wanted her grandfather.

“I miss him already.”

He nodded in understanding. “The house won’t be the same without him.”

“I wish you’d met him before he got so sick,” she mused.

Adam was everything her grandfather admired in a man. Everything she admired in a man, for that matter. He’d been so good to her during Gramps’s illness.

“He was such a joy.” Her voice broke. “The best gramps who ever lived.”

“Not that you’re biased.” His gaze softened, full of compassion, before returning to the road.

“Of course not,” she agreed, smiling at him through her tears and counting her blessings that she had Adam to see her through this horrible time.

Adam hated seeing Liz so devastated, but they’d known for months this day would come. Actually, Gramps had held on much longer than he, Liz, or any of numerous doctors had ever thought possible.

Then again, Gramps had had a fabulous nurse who’d loved her grandfather very much and had refused to let him go. This last time she hadn’t been able to pull off another medical miracle.

Personally, Adam thought Gramps had longed for the release death had offered his broken body and mind. He’d occasionally caught a pleading glimmer in the old man’s eyes, a glimmer that begged Adam to convince Liz to let him go, to give her a reason to move on beyond trying to mend the unfixable.

Her red-rimmed eyes tore at his heart, making him long for the ability to ease her sorrows. As a doctor he dealt with death routinely. In many ways he’d hardened himself to bereavement, but seeing Liz so upset, so unlike her usual unflappable self, got to him. First hand, from losing his parents, he knew only time would chip away at the horrendous pain in her heart, but if possible he’d move heaven and earth to put the light back into her eyes.

Ignoring the zig-zag of pain at his right temple, he pulled onto the highway, heading toward town. The cemetery where Gramps had been buried next to Liz’s grandmother was located about twenty miles outside the city limits. He wanted to get Liz home, feed her, and put her to bed. She looked ready to drop and the pain in his head refused to ease.

“The house is going to seem so quiet,” she mused from where she sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window at cornfields filled with a bumper crop thanks to all the rain they’d had so far this Mississippi summer.

“I’ll stay with you,” he immediately offered. He’d stayed the previous two nights. The first, he’d sat with her on the tiny loveseat that served as the only sitting area in her crowded living room. He’d held her while she’d talked about Gramps, while she’d cried, while she’d napped for a few short hours just before dawn. Last night, he’d stayed on the sofa while forcing her to bed. He wasn’t sure she’d slept any more than she had the previous night, but at least she’d made it to bed. Of course, when he’d awakened early this morning, she’d been curled next to him, eyeing Gramps’s hospital bed.

She nodded. “I’d like that. I don’t want to be by myself.”

No way would he leave her to face tonight alone.

Then again, if she went back to her place, all Gramps’s things were just as she’d left them, just as they’d been on the day the old man had died. Liz wouldn’t sleep. She’d sit in the living room, staring at that empty hospital bed.

In testament to how troubled she was she didn’t notice when he drove past the turn-off leading to the small frame house her grandfather had lived in for more than fifty years. Her hands rested in her lap and she looked ghostly pale.

“I’ll stop and pick us up some take-out on the drive home. I’ve not seen you eat a bite.”

She grimaced, shaking her head. “I don’t think I can eat anything. I’m sure it’s nerves, but the thought of food makes me want to throw up.”

“You need to eat.”

“I will, but not right now. I just want to lie down and close my eyes to reality for a while.”

She’d barely nibbled at a few crackers yesterday. Less than that today. He didn’t like her lack of appetite, but perhaps she was too exhausted to eat. He’d get some of the soup his cleaning lady had left him on her last visit and convince Liz to eat at least a little.

“Where are we?” she asked, pushing a strand of her dark hair away from her face and becoming aware that they’d long passed her street.

“I’m taking you to my place. You’ll rest better.”

“But I…” She paused. “You’re right. I really don’t want to face that empty hospital bed.”

He’d known, just like he knew so much about the woman in the car with him. For the past year she’d been a constant part of his life.

That was a year longer than any other woman.

Since he’d had no intention of committing to anything beyond his career for many years to come, he hadn’t thought it fair to become involved. Sure, he’d dated, but always with a clear understanding.

Liz had been different. She hadn’t been looking for marriage and children either. She’d already been a hundred percent committed to caring for her grandfather and no relationship would change that.

She’d been safe.

Not that he’d meant to date her, to become part of a couple with her, but from the moment they’d met he and Liz had hit it off. She was funny, intelligent, and sexy as hell. Without him realizing what had been happening, she had become more and more entrenched in his life until he couldn’t imagine not having her smile brighten his day.

With Liz he’d found himself wanting marriage, children, all the things he’d once found superfluous to his medical career. Had she been free, he’d have begged her to walk down the aisle with him, to be his wife, the mother of his children.

But Liz’s priority had been to her grandfather and he’d understood that. Understood and loved her all the more for her loyalty and big heart.

All the reasons hindering their relationship from moving forward had dissipated the moment Gramps had taken his last breath.

Another sharp pain cut through Adam’s temple, momentarily blurring his vision and reminding him that perhaps not all the reasons were gone. A pain that had become more and more familiar over the past two weeks, as had the blurred vision.

So familiar that he’d seen a family physician friend of his to get a prescription for a headache medication on Friday.

Only his friend had been concerned his symptoms were more than just stress-induced. Particularly when upon being questioned Adam had admitted to feeling tired and having had muscle cramps recently. Larry had scheduled Adam for fasting bloodwork and a magnetic resonance imaging—MRI—scan of the brain on Monday. Only Adam had rescheduled the tests because of Gramps’s death.

Surely Larry was being overly cautious?

But Adam couldn’t suppress the niggle of fear that his friend was right. Something more was going on inside his body. Something bad.

Something that Adam wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Had he not been driving, he would have closed his eyes.

“What are you thinking?” Liz interrupted his thoughts, causing him to glance her way. She’d quit staring out the car window and watched him with her soulful brown eyes.

“Just hoping I left the place clean,” he prevaricated. Now was not the time to tell Liz about the symptoms he’d been having. She already had enough to worry about.

“Mrs Evans keeps your condo immaculate and you’re a neat freak of the worst kind, Adam.” Her lips hinted at a smile. “I’d be highly shocked to find your underwear strewn around.”

“That’s because you visit after Mrs Evans has been there,” he warned, pleased at the smile on her pale but beautiful face. Neither the dark circles ringing her eyes nor their red puffiness could hide Liz’s beauty. She radiated from the inside with a natural exquisiteness he found irresistible.

Adam stared out at the road, squinted to clear his right eye of its haze. Unsuccessfully.

What if something bad was wrong with him?

He’d seen the concern on Larry’s face and he hadn’t even revealed his other symptoms to his friend.

Somehow saying out loud that his surgeon hands had gone numb for a few minutes last week, that at times pins and needles prickled his fingertips and that had been the real catalyst to his visit to Larry, seemed to make his symptoms all so much more real.

No, he hadn’t admitted to anyone that his internal circuits had seemed to be going haywire from time to time over the past two weeks. Not even to himself.

CHAPTER TWO

ADAM stared at the shadowy living-room ceiling and listened to the soft chimes of the mantel clock that had once been his mother’s.

One o’clock.

He owed it to his patients to get some sleep, but no matter how much his brain knew that, how many times he told himself to close his eyes, sleep remained elusive.

Probably because every fiber of his being was aware that while he was lying on his sofa with a cotton throw tossed over his body, Liz slept in his bed.

He’d planned to join her, but she’d been sound asleep. He hadn’t wanted to risk going into his bedroom since any noise he inadvertently made might wake her. She needed to sleep. He’d never seen her look so worn out.

He’d changed out of his suit into a pair of shorts he’d pulled from the dryer, and hit the sofa. Maybe if he checked on Liz, knew she was OK, maybe then he could catch a few hours before going to the hospital.

Who wanted a doctor taking out their gallbladder or repairing their hernia when he hadn’t slept much for three nights straight?

OK, so he hadn’t been sleeping much for the past couple of weeks, which probably explained why he was having the episodes of blurred vision, fatigue, and paresthesia in his fingertips.

It was apparent he couldn’t sleep until he knew Liz was OK. He’d sneak in, reassure himself, then he’d be able to get some shut-eye.

A few hours’ rest and he’d be as good as new. A few hours sleep, and he’d probably be able to laugh away the fear he’d been squelching for days.

That did it. He was going to check on her. Just a quick peek.

He threw the cover to the opposite end of his sofa and padded barefooted to his bedroom door. The door was partially open where Liz had left it prior to the hot bath he’d forced her to take in the en suite. He crept into the room without having to open it wider.

The lamplight shone, illuminating her face. She lay half on her side with her arm draped over his pillow. Her chest rose and fell in even breaths. Her hair was tousled about her face. Her eyes were closed and, although he could tell she’d cried herself to sleep from the lingering puffiness, she looked to be sleeping peacefully at the moment.

There. He’d reassured himself she was OK. Now he could go to sleep. He crept toward the door.

“Adam?” Liz’s sleepy voice stopped him.

He turned, met her heavy gaze. He should have known better than to risk waking her.

“Where are you going?” she asked, looking half-asleep with her sultry eyes and tousled hair. Her lips were parted, prettily plump. She looked beautiful, vulnerable.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Realizing the lamplight still shone, she became more awake, glanced at the clock, and propped herself up on her elbows. “You’re just now coming to bed?”

“I took the sofa.”

“You’re sleeping on the sofa?” Her forehead creased in confusion. “Why?”

“You need to sleep.”

“I need you to hold me,” she countered, her eyes dark and needy.

This was why he’d come in here. He hadn’t needed to check on Liz. He’d known she was just fine, that she was asleep, because if she hadn’t been she’d have come to find him. He’d hoped she’d awaken. Hoped she’d invite him into his bed.

Because he’d been the one needing.

Needing to hold her, feel her warm body next to his, to breathe in the fresh scent of her shampoo.

Because he needed Liz. Needed her to comfort him. To allay his fears regarding whatever was going on inside his body. But how could he tell her? He couldn’t. Why worry her when there might not be a thing to worry about? Telling her at this point would only be cruel.

He’d keep hiding his symptoms from her until he knew what he was dealing with, could assure that he wasn’t going to be a burden on a woman who’d already faced more than her fair share of burdens.

“Adam?” She flipped back the covers, indicating for him to lie down next to her. “Hold me.”

Adam eyed the bed, eyed the woman wanting him to join her, the woman he cared more for than anything else in life. He needed to hold her, to feel the aliveness within him that being with Liz always gave him.

He crawled between the sheets, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed the top of her head. So perfect for him. So what he’d never believed in prior to meeting her.

“Adam?” His name held questions, as if she sensed his unease, but her sweet warmness thawed the cold fear gripping him and he relaxed.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

Yawning, she laced her fingers with his and snuggled closer. “Goodnight, Adam.”

It was now, he thought, closing his eyes and almost instantly falling asleep.

Adam ignored the fatigue clawing at his body and carefully removed another section of Beverly Gilley’s left breast.

He placed the tissue in a specimen tray. The pathologist would check to see if the forty-two-year-old’s breast cancer had spread outside the lump that weeks of radiation had shrunk to a more surgically manageable size.

Resisting the urge to shake his hands back and forth to ease the tingling sensation burning his fingertips, he finished removing her left breast tissue and began examining the left axillary nodes. He’d remove a few of those to send to pathology, too. All he’d have left was to clean up the surgical site to make reconstruction easier at a later date and to sew up the incisions he’d made. If his hands kept bothering him, he’d let the nurse sew up the incision. Although not his normal routine, doing so was a common enough practice that no one would think too much of it.

He’d yet to remove a single node when the anesthesiologist became alarmed.

“Her oxygen sats are dropping,” the doctor said, increasing the amount of oxygen he was delivering and simultaneously checking placement of Beverly’s mask. “Something’s not right.”

“Pulse is up,” the nurse said at his side. “Blood pressure is slightly elevated. Is she going into shock?”

Squelching the voice in his head asking if he’d somehow done something wrong, if he’d missed something because of his distraction with his hands, Adam did a quick assessment of his patient. Erythematous welts began appearing on her skin.

“She’s breaking out in a rash,” he said. “DC the anesthesia. Stat. She’s reacting to it.” He turned to the nurse. “Give epinephrine subcutaneously stat and then add diphenhydramine to her IV line.”

“Yes, sir,” the nurse said, giving the injection seconds later.

Adam hoped no one noticed that he massaged his fingers through the rubber gloves. What was wrong with him?

His gaze met the nurse’s. He feigned calm, reassuring himself that she’d think his hand motions were due to stress, worry over his patient. He was worried about his patient. “We’ll finish once she’s stable.”

Adam stayed with his patient until her vitals settled down, and he felt confident he could proceed without fear Beverly was in greater danger than normal.

Two hours later he propped his head against the doctors’ lounge wall. The cold concrete soothed the throb in his skull. He ran over everything with Beverly’s mastectomy, trying to recall if he’d done anything out of line, anything that might have made a difference in her outcome. He hadn’t. Sure, he was tired, his right eye blurred and his fingertips burned. But even if he’d been at his best, he couldn’t have prevented Beverly from reacting to the anesthesia.

Fortunately, they had gotten her severe allergic reaction under control before the situation had become even more critical. Before he’d been forced to deliver bad news to Beverly’s waiting family.

“You OK?” Dr Roger Bell asked from behind him.

Startled, he raised his head. He hadn’t heard the orthopedic surgeon enter the lounge.

“I heard what happened this afternoon,” his friend said. “Dr Krick told me if you hadn’t realized what was happening so quickly you might have lost the woman. Good going, man.”

Adam shrugged. He couldn’t let go of the idea that he might have somehow been at fault. “It’s my job to keep my patients safe.”

Was he compromising his patients’ safety just by operating on them? But he couldn’t put his life on hold while he awaited test results. Tests he needed to reschedule and have done so he could await results. Why was he procrastinating?

“But not your job to predict the future,” Roger countered, pulling items from his personal locker. “No one can say when someone’s going to have an unexpected allergy like that. Not even you.”

Hearing his earlier thoughts from an excellent surgeon like Dr Bell reassured him that what happened with Beverly truly hadn’t been his fault. Still, he couldn’t quite shake his guilt.

“Just thought you should know that those in the OR with you this afternoon were impressed with how quickly you came up with the correct diagnosis and credit you with saving the woman’s life. The nurses are saying you’re brilliant.” Dr Bell added the last with a grin.

Brilliant? He’d been tired, distracted, wrestling with his fingers, and hadn’t been at his peak. Far from brilliant. “Like I said, I was just doing my job.”

Dangling a shower bag and fresh clothes, Dr Bell closed his locker. “I was surprised to hear you were back today. I figured you’d take off a while with Liz. I was really sorry to hear about her grandfather.”

Adam nodded at his colleague. “I’ll let her know.”

Roger lingered rather than hitting the showers. “You planning to make an honest woman of her now that she’s free?”

None of your damn business, was what he wanted to growl, but instead he met his friend’s eyes. “Liz and I have no definite plans for the future.”

He couldn’t make plans with Liz until after he’d had the tests Larry had ordered, until he knew what the hell was going on with him.

Until he knew if he had a future to plan.

“Your lab results all came back perfect,” Larry, the family physician Adam had been good friends with since he’d moved to Robertsville, said. From the look on Larry’s face, not everything had come back perfect, though.

“The MRI?”

Larry took a deep breath, met his gaze head on. Premonition filled Adam. This was going to be bad. Very bad. Like maybe he didn’t want to know after all bad.

“I wish I could say it was perfect, too, but it wasn’t.” Larry didn’t seem in a hurry to tell Adam the results, seemed to be struggling with how to wrap his tongue around the words.

“Just get on with it,” Adam spat out, no longer willing to wait patiently for the results of the scan he’d gone for yesterday morning.

Did he have a brain tumor? It was the explanation that kept running through his mind. Then he’d tell himself he was being foolish, a hypochondriac of the worst kind. Of course his scan was going to come back normal. Of course he was going to be just fine and have a future with Liz.

Brain tumors didn’t happen to regular guys like himself. Not in the prime of their lives.

“Your MRI showed demyelization of gray matter in your brain.”

Demyelization? The breakdown of the protective lining around nerve cells? But…

“What does that mean?” Even as he asked, possibilities ran through his mind. Demyelization. An autoimmune response. His body was attacking itself? Why the hell would it do that? Why now?

Larry took another breath. “It means I’m going to schedule you to see a neurologist in Jackson.”

“A neurologist?”

Larry looked at him oddly. Adam imagined he did sound a bit odd, but Larry was talking about his body, his life, his future. Could he help it if he was asking questions that as a physician he should know the answers to? Questions he did know the answers to? A neurologist specialized in diseases of the brain and nervous system. Demyelization diseases such as…no, he wouldn’t go there. Wouldn’t think the worst.

“There’s a specialist in Jackson. He’s involved in multiple sclerosis research.”

Damn it. He’d just decided not to go there. With Larry saying the words out loud, he couldn’t help but go there.

“MS?” Did he sound as blown away as he felt? MS. He could end up paralyzed, completely dependent on others for even the most basic of things. He didn’t have MS. He couldn’t have MS.

“I want you to see Dr Winters. I put in a call to his office as soon as I got your report. He’s out of town at a convention until next week, but you’re scheduled for an early morning appointment on his first day back in the office.”