From Doctor … to Daddy
Karen Rose Smith
When the Cowboy Said “I Do”
Crystal Green
Dear Reader,
I’ve come to several crossroads in my life which could have changed the course of it—what job I accepted, an engagement, a marriage proposal, the decision to start a family. My hero, Dillon Traub, is at a crossroads. Because of past decisions which he now considers mistakes, he wants to take his time choosing a new career path. But love doesn’t wait and can’t be predicted or even managed! When he meets Erika, a single mom, his past wounds are opened. What he comes to realize is that true love can not only heal the past but point the way to the future.
I’m honoured to be part of the MONTANA MAVERICKS continuity series. I hope you enjoy reading about Dillon and Erika as much as I enjoyed writing about them!
All my best,
Karen Rose Smith
About the Author
Award-winning and best-selling author KAREN ROSE SMITH has seen over sixty-five novels published since 1991. Living in Pennsylvania with her husband—who was her college sweetheart—and their two cats, she has been writing full-time since the start of her career. She enjoys researching and visiting the West and Southwest where this series of books is set. Readers can receive updates on Karen’s latest releases and write to her through her website at www.karenrosesmith.com or at PO Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331, USA.
To my dad—I’ll always remember building model ships, rolling a red scooter, playing blackjack, and riding my bike the day you removed the training wheels. I miss you.
Chapter One
The door to Dr. Dillon Traub’s office at the infirmary in the lodge suddenly flew open. A tall, husky man carrying a boy of about eight rushed inside. “You’ve got to do something, Doc. I can’t find his EpiPen.”
Erika Rodriguez was right on the man’s heels. “This is Dave Lindstrom. He thinks his son Jeff is having a reaction to something he ate.” Her words were quick and precise, yet she seemed calm.
As Dillon rose from his desk, their gazes collided and the zing he’d been experiencing ever since he’d met his receptionist hit him full force. Even now.
Pushing aside any thoughts other than those about this little boy, Dillon took Jeff into his own arms and ran into a well-equipped exam room. “Call 9-1-1,” he shot over his shoulder at Erika, experiencing the gut-wrenching ache he always felt when he was near a child in crisis … remembering his own child.
“I already did,” Erika called after him.
An internist, Dillon could handle almost any emergency that cropped up at Thunder Canyon Resort. Marshall Cates—the resident doctor here—had assured him not many emergencies occurred at the resort.
So much for Marshall’s assurances.
The boy’s breathing was labored and his lips were blue and swelling. Dillon knew he had everything he needed to reverse the reaction if it wasn’t too late.
Too late, echoed in his mind, as it often had over the past few years.
It wouldn’t be too late for this child.
“Hold on, Jeff,” Dillon said in a low voice as he laid the boy on the table.
Expertly assessing Jeff’s height, weight and condition, Dillon grabbed an EpiPen with the appropriate dosage from the medicine cabinet. Instants later, he’d administered it, pulled over the oxygen tank and let Jeff breathe it in through the nasal cannula. Erika assisted any way she could while Dillon ran an IV line. All the while, he monitored the little boy’s pulse, checked his breathing, comforted him in low tones and prayed for the anaphylactic reaction to reverse.
Dillon was aware of Erika beside him. He’d been too aware of her since he’d briefly met her on his vacation here in June. When he’d accepted Marshall Cates’s offer to take over as staff doctor for the month of September while Marshall was away, Grant Clifton, the resort’s manager, had assigned Erika to be his receptionist. Since then, Dillon’s awareness of her had revved up into something even more disturbing—desire. He hadn’t felt real desire since well before his divorce.
Erika had never had any medical training but seemed able to take on any assignment she was given with a competence that made her a valued employee in Grant’s eyes, especially given the recent budget cuts. Those same budget cuts had made it necessary for Ruthann, Marshall’s nurse, to come on duty when Dillon went off. Not that he was really ever off. He was usually on call twenty-four hours a day, except for the odd night when the retired physician in town would cover for him.
Now Erika suddenly glanced toward the hallway, her long dark brown, wavy hair sliding over her shoulder. “I hear the sirens. The paramedics are coming.”
Standing at the boy’s shoulder, Jeff’s father murmured, “Thank God.”
Dillon checked Jeff’s nailbeds and was relieved to see the blue was receding. His lips were less swollen and pinker, too. “I know you’re scared, Jeff,” he said clasping the child’s arm. “But everything’s going to be okay.”
Jeff’s hazel eyes darted to Dillon’s face.
“You can breathe easier now, can’t you?”
Jeff nodded, then reached his hand out for his dad who took it and squeezed it tightly. The husky man’s brow was beaded with sweat and he looked as if emotion was choking his throat. Finally he managed to say, “He’s all I have.”
Dillon reached out his hand to the lodge’s guest. “Mr. Lindstrom, I’m Dr. Traub. I’ll follow along to the hospital to make sure all goes smoothly as soon as I give my nurse a call so she can cover.”
“I’ll call her,” Erika offered. “She’s due in soon, so she’s probably around the resort.”
Erika moved away from Dillon’s side, her figure trim in her navy suit. Her skirt was just the right length to be professional and her white silky blouse had a scooped neckline that showed off her beautiful olive skin.
As she passed him, her scent, light and tempting, enveloped him. She turned her head and her dark eyes stayed on his. For a moment, a rippling intensity skittered back and forth between them.
She broke eye contact and had almost reached the door when Dillon caught the sound of voices and the clang of a gurney. All at once, there the paramedics were—ready to handle an emergency … ready to take care of Jeff while they transported him to the hospital.
Dillon was so grateful that Erika’s calm handling of the crisis, as well as his ministrations, had saved Jeff’s life. He wished recovery was an outcome for every sick child.
Yet he knew firsthand it wasn’t. He’d lost his own child to leukemia—and there hadn’t been a damn thing he could do about it.
At her desk, Erika suddenly went on alert a few hours later. She recognized the bootfalls of Dr. Dillon Traub as he strode up the hall to the infirmary.
She had heard he was the heir of an oil fortune. Western-cut suits that impeccably fit his broad shoulders, fine leather boots, as well as the oil fortune were all good reasons to stay away from him. Ever since she’d met him in June and chemistry had rippled between them, she’d known becoming involved with him would be trouble.
Not