Dr Blake's Angel

“Excuse me?” Blake asked his new patient.

“I bet you never had a Christmas present like me before.” The woman smiled.

“You’re pregnant,” he stated.

“Yes, I’m pregnant. Great work for noticing.”

“Have you come to see me about your pregnancy, Miss McKenzie?”

“It’s Dr. McKenzie. And I’m your Christmas present.”

“Just explain,” Blake said.

“Your friends Jonas and Emily have organized it all with the hospital board. They’re giving you a holiday and I’ll take over.”

“It’s a very nice idea,” Blake forced out. “But it’s impossible. You can’t just take over my Christmas. I see fifty patients a day!”

“Fifty? Okay, maybe I can’t. But maybe I can share it.”

“What?”

“Well, maybe we could have a Christmas to remember. Together.”

Dear Reader,

Christmas is my very favorite time of the year. From the first rendition of “Jingle Bells” in my local supermarket—that’s usually about September—I’m tingling with anticipation. My kids’ school runs a Christmas cake drive and I’m a volunteer cook (or maybe that should read volunteered—thanks, kids!), so by October my house is full of the smells of Christmas and I’m aching to put up the tree.

When I was asked to write a Christmas romance I didn’t need any encouragement. I sat down immediately to think up a nice Christmassy plot. What would I like for Christmas? That’s easy. It’s what I always want—a very special Christmas surprise.

So that’s what I’ve given my gorgeous Dr. Blake. A surprise in the form of his very own Christmas angel.

I do hope you enjoy Dr. Blake and his angel. Blessings on you and yours—and have a very happy Christmas.

Marion Lennox

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

BRANDY SAUCE

‘I’M NOT a patient. I’m your Christmas present.’

Right…

The woman had glossy, copper-red hair. She was wearing purple patchwork overalls, a pink T-shirt and pink flowery sandals. She was also heavily pregnant.

Dr Blake Sutherland still had urgent house calls to do. He’d promised Grace Mayne he’d visit her tonight and the elderly fisherwoman was already waiting. He’d been up since dawn, he was exhausted and now he had a nutcase on his hands.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I bet you’ve never had a Christmas present like me.’ The woman’s bright smile exuded happiness.

Who on earth was she? Blake didn’t have a clue. She’d arrived an hour ago, settled to wait for his last afternoon appointment and had been placidly reading old copies of Rich and Famous until he’d found time to see her.

His Christmas present…

On reflection, he decided to ignore what she’d said and try again. ‘You’re pregnant.’ He sat back and did a slow assessment. She was at least seven months, he guessed, or maybe more. She was glowing with the health most women found in late stages of pregnancy, and she looked…lovely?

Lovely was as good a way as any to describe her, he decided as he took in her startling appearance. Her riot of copper curls was close cropped but not enough to stop the rioting. Her freckled face was enhanced by huge green eyes, and she had the most gorgeous smile…

Oh, for heaven’s sake! Ignore the smile. She also had a problem or she wouldn’t be here.

‘Yes, I’m pregnant. Great work for noticing.’ She chuckled. It was a nice, throaty chuckle that went beautifully with her eyes. ‘Em said you were a brilliant doctor, and you’ve just proved it. Pregnant, hey?’ She patted her tummy. ‘Well, well. Who’d have guessed it?’

He had the grace to smile. ‘I’m sorry, but—’

‘I guess since I’m pregnant you have two gifts for the price of one—but maybe the outer package is the only useful bit. That’s me.’

She was a nutcase! But she was pregnant and she may well have medical needs. He needed to step warily. The worst medical mistakes were made when doctors were tired, and he didn’t intend to toss her out unchecked because she was a bit unbalanced.

‘Have you come to see me about your pregnancy?’ He glanced at her naked ring finger and took a punt. ‘Miss…’ Another glance to the card his receptionist had given him. ‘Miss McKenzie.’

‘It’s Dr McKenzie,’ she told him. ‘Or Nell if you prefer.’ Her smile deepened and she held out her hand in greeting. Dazed, he took it. ‘Nell’s better. Dr McKenzie always makes me feel like someone’s talking to my grandfather.’

Her hand was warm and firm. His hand was shaken and released and that was how he felt. Shaken.

This conversation was way out of line, he decided. He didn’t have a clue what was going on. ‘Miss… Doctor…’

‘Hey, you are exhausted,’ she said, on a note of discovery. ‘Emily and Jonas told me you were. They said you really, really needed me, and after an hour in your waiting room I’m starting to see that they’re right.’