It was all Jesse’s fault.
Jesse and that damned hot mouth of his.
And now Tania’s life was being shaken up. Shaken up for the first time since she’d consciously pulled her emotions out of the game, sealing them away.
She’d never lost herself before – lost the ability to think clearly. To function. For more than just a split second when Jesse kissed her at the door, her mind had gone blank and her body had grown hot. As for the longing…
Well, she just didn’t do that. Didn’t long for anyone. And yet…
Jesse had made her long.
Made her want…
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
This USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author has written more than 150 novels, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Readers can visit her website at www.marieferrarella.com.
Dear Reader,
Welcome back for the fourth instalment of THE DOCTORS PULASKI. I cannot begin to tell you the memories working on this series brings back for me. I grew up in New York City – Queens specifically – and worked in a building that looked out on Radio City Music Hall. At lunchtime, I would walk the very streets I’m writing about now. And while the hospital where my dedicated doctors work is fictional, the Diamond District in the first chapter is very, very real.
Many a lunch hour was spent looking into windows along that route and sighing. The engagement ring my now-husband bought me came from one of those shops. After the purchase, he brought the ring right over because he was afraid of losing it, which is how I came to be engaged on the twenty-second floor of what was then The Equitable Building. You’ll soon see why all this brings back fond memories for me.
In reading about Tatiana and Jesse, I hope their story sparks you into creating fond memories of your own.
As always, I thank you for reading and with all my heart, I wish you someone to love who loves you back.
Marie Ferrarella
A Doctor's Secret
MARIE FERRARELLA
MILLS & BOON
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To Misiu and Marek,
and growing up in New York City.
Love, Marysia
Chapter 1
“Stop, thief!”
When he looked back at it later, Jesse Steele would have to say those words had ultimately changed his life. Had he not heard them, he probably would have never met her.
It was an overcast Manhattan late spring morning and he was worried about rain. That, and making the meeting on time.
One moment he was taking a shortcut through New York’s famous Diamond District. He had to hurry because New York’s more famous traffic was making it impossible for him to get back to his office in time for the one o’clock meeting with the senior partners of the architectural firm of Bryce, Newcomb and Tuttle. The next moment he was breaking into a run, charging down the crowded sidewalk and then tackling a rather upscale but guilty-looking man running from the scene.
The rather elderly distinguished man who had uttered the cry stood in the narrow doorway that led to his small, exclusive shop on the second floor. Dressed in dark slacks, a white suit and a black vest, the unique ties of a prayer shawl peeked out from beneath the bottom of the vest. A black, hand-sewn yarmulke completed the picture.
The blood from the cut on the old man’s cheek was a startling contrast to his somber clothing. He swayed slightly as he clutched at the doorjamb, but the anger on his face was fierce.
All this Jesse had taken in within half a heartbeat. While heads turned toward the man in the doorway and several women yelled a protest as the object of the old man’s cries barreled down the long city block, Jesse sprang into action. Using the prowess that had gotten him a football scholarship and seen him handily through his four years at NYU, he flew after the thief.
Throwing his weight forward, Jesse grabbed the man by the waist. They both went down on the concrete less than a foot shy of the gutter.
Frantic to get away, the robber fought and kicked with a fierce determination that only made Jesse angrier. Nothing got to him as quickly as someone trying to take advantage of someone else. The robber was young, strong and well-built. The man in the doorway looked as if he could easily blow away in a stiff breeze.
“Let go of me, you bastard!” the thief shouted, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to beat Jesse off.
Still struggling, the thief cracked him across the side of his head with what turned out to be a toy gun. He’d used it to intimidate the store owner. Jesse’s grip on the man tightened and he brought the thief down, straddling him to keep him in place.
The bag the thief clutched when he fled the store flew out of his hand and spilled. Diamonds appeared on the concrete, creating their own rainbows in the sparse available light.
Suddenly the people in the immediate area came to life, converging on the two struggling men, their attention collectively focused on the brilliant booty displayed for them to see.
Jesse was on his feet instantly, holding on to the thief’s arm and jerking him up in his wake.
“Don’t even think about it,” Jesse ordered one man who was close to him. The latter was bending to scoop up some of the bounty.
Jesse’s harsh voice, added to his six-two stature, succeeded in keeping the man honest and the rest of the crowd at bay.
The man in the doorway took out a handkerchief to dab at his wound as he hurried over to Jesse. Shock and surprise registered on his bewhiskered face.
“Thank you, young man. Thank you,” he called even before he reached Jesse. “My name is Isaac Epstein and you have done me a great service.”
The thief was squirming next to Jesse, doing his best to get out of his grasp.
“Let me go!” the man ordered. When Jesse merely glared at him, the thief’s indignation retreated. He became supplicant and meek. “Look, this was all a big mistake. A big, stupid mistake. I won’t—”
Jesse had no desire to listen to anything the man had to say. Anyone who would try to rob an old man was worthless—worse than dirt in his opinion.
“Shut your mouth,” he advised evenly. “You’ll get a chance to explain your side of it to the police.”
The man’s eyes widened even more, bulging like marbles. “The police?” he echoed. “But I—”
The