It Started With a Pregnancy
Scarlet Wilson
MILLS & BOON
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Table of Contents
‘So, Dr Roberts, what can I do for you?’ The mixed scent of his sweat and cologne instantly invaded her senses, making Missy’s head swim with memories of their night together.
‘Well, Sister Bell, I’m not quite sure,’ he said. ‘We seem to have got ourselves into a bit of a predicament.’
‘You’re a distraction,’ she said.
‘What?’
He flinched backwards and drew his gaze away from hers. She blinked twice. Apparently she was the only person caught in the memory.
‘You distracted me at work today, Cooper. It’s really difficult to be in a confined space with someone you last saw naked.’
He raised an eyebrow at her candour. ‘Get straight to the point, why don’t you?’
‘It needs to be said.’ Her fingers twiddled with a lock of her hair. She was trying to appear cool and casual. ‘I felt as if I couldn’t concentrate at work today, and that’s not me. I’m very good at my job.’
About the Author
SCARLET WILSON wrote her first story aged eight, and has never stopped. Her family have fond memories of Shirley and the Magic Purse, with its army of mice, all with names beginning with the letter ‘m’. An avid reader, Scarlet started with every Enid Blyton book, moved on to the Chalet School series, and many years later found Mills & Boon®. She trained and worked as a nurse and health visitor, and now currently works in public health. For her, finding Medical Romances was a match made in heaven. She is delighted to find herself among authors she has read for many years. Scarlet lives on the West Coast of Scotland, with her fiancé and their two sons.
For my own three personal heroes:
Kevin, Elliott & Rhys.
And to Nancy Holroyd, a valued critique partner,
with patience, insight and lots of good advice, and to
Rachael Johns for her support and encouragement.
CHAPTER ONE
COOPER noticed her straight away. The music throbbed in his ears as the dozens of bodies around him pushed and jostled to gain a better position at the oak-topped bar. She was standing alone, looking calm and serene, if a little awkward. He knew instantly she wasn’t used to being in a place like this. He watched as she sipped at her drink and glanced at her silver watch, her left forefinger twiddling with a strand of chestnut hair. He wished he could reach out and tuck it behind her ear.
‘Why don’t you go and speak to her?’
The voice made him start. He turned to face his friend Jake, who was pointing in her direction. ‘Go on, then. You’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes. Go talk to her.’
Cooper frowned. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. She might be waiting for someone. I can’t go and speak to her.’ He shook his head in a decided way before picking up his drink again.
Jake put his hand on Cooper’s arm. Compassion showed in his dark blue eyes. ‘Coop, it’s been two years. It’s time to get back on the wagon. You’re in a new city, with a new job and nobody knows you. Nobody knows your history.’
He gestured in the direction of the beautiful woman.
‘Over there is a gorgeous-looking woman, who looks as if some fool has stood her up. This is your chance. Go and take it.’ He gave Cooper’s arm a little squeeze. ‘It’s time to start living again.’
Cooper’s stomach churned. He felt little beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Jake was right. When was the last time he had actually noticed a woman? When was the last time he’d asked a woman out? He couldn’t even remember. Last time he could recall his stomach doing flip-flops like this had been at the Christmas dance at school when he’d gone to ask Clara to dance with him. That must have been fifteen years ago.
He glanced over at her again. She was beginning to look uncomfortable. He could take a chance and speak to her or he could go home and sit in his darkened, empty flat—just like he’d done for the last few months. What harm could it do? He took a quick drink from his glass and put it down on the bar. Jake was right. No one knew him here. No one would be looking at him with their sympathetic eyes. No one would describe him as that ‘poor consultant who’d been widowed’. No one would talk about the family