From Dare To Due Date
THE NIGHT THEY MADE A BABYMia Palinski had never even considered herself the kind of girl to have a one-night stand. Yet there she was, in a big-city hotel room, wrapped in the arms of a handsome stranger she simply couldn’t resist. Now she’s pregnant, and she has no idea how to contact the father—until he shows up in her hometown of Sugar Falls.The man she knew only as “GP” is Dr. Garrett (Patrick) McCormick. The ski town's newest orthopedist has literally just opened his practice when Mia walked through his door. And although he is surprised at her announcement, he's ready to jump right into fatherhood. Mia, on the other hand, is wary. Doctor Daddy seems wonderful, but can she trust Garrett with her heart when he won’t reveal his own?
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No,Mia thought.No, no, no.
He was here in Sugar Falls? And he was her doctor? How had this happened?
âItâs youâ was all he said. She stood there, stiff and numb, drinking in the sight of him but at a complete loss of what to say without looking foolish.
âYou live here in Sugar Falls?â he asked when she remained silent. His eyes hadnât blinked and hadnât stopped their constant perusal of her. âAnd weâre meeting like this? How could this have happened?â
His words mirrored her own thought process so exactly that the nervous giggle sheâd been trying to swallow almost bubbled out. But then he smiled as though Santa had just delivered a long-sought-after Christmas gift to him, and a familiar cold panic spread through her. Mia reached for the file, the one containing all her personal information, including the fact that she was now carrying this strangerâs child, and tried to yank it from his hands.
The hands that had so skillfully brought her body to life just two months ago.
* * *
Sugar Falls, Idaho: Your destination for true love!
CHRISTY JEFFRIES received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mummyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at www.christyjeffries.com.
To my handsome, hardworking and tolerant husband. When I finally figured out what I was looking for, you ended up being there all along. I was beyond lucky when you called me back.
You are my heart.
Contents
The melting ice cubes in Mia Palinskiâs vodka and tonic were symbolic of the way her future was dissolving before her eyes.
Sheâd just turned thirty, yet no matter how many times sheâd told herself that it was time to come to terms with her new life, she still couldnât shake the lingering wish that tonight it shouldâve been her up on the stage of the Egyptian Theatre, pirouetting across the dance floor.
Watching the piano player on the opposite end of the bar, she wondered if the balding man once had bigger aspirations than playing old standards in the lounge of some swanky hotel in downtown Boise. Most performers did. At least she could take comfort in the thought that she wasnât the only one not living her dream.
And while she didnât begrudge her darling students their chance to shine in their roles as the fairy-tale wedding guests in the Idaho Youth Performing Artsâ rendition of Tchaikovskyâs Sleeping Beauty, Mia would have been more comfortable if she hadnât been stuck backstage with Mrs. Rosellino, who thought her six-year-old daughter was going to be the next Martha Graham.
Along with most of the other dance instructors who had students performing in tonightâs ballet, Mia referred to the delusional stage moms as idealists. Because unless sweet Madison Rosellino miraculously developed a decent amount of rhythm and learned to keep her finger out of her nose during performances, the sweet and quiet girl would probably never make it to Juilliard.
Her eye gave an involuntary twitch at the memory of her own mother, who was so similar to the Mrs. Rosellinos of the world. Mia took a sip of her now diluted drink, trying to wash away the reminder of the well-meaning but overbearing woman who had pushed her only child into competitive cheer rather than classical dance. Rhonda Palinski had wanted all eyes on Mia and had forcefully maneuvered her daughter onto the football fields, where the stages were bigger, the lights were brighter and the crowds were rowdier.
Her phone vibrated on the smooth-finished walnut bar beside her glass. She saw a group text message from her friends Maxine Cooper and Kylie Gregson. She loved them and knew they wanted an update on how the Labor Day performance had gone, but she couldnât bear to put on the brave face and pretend she wasnât hosting a pity party for one in an empty hotel bar. She grabbed a handful of fancy nuts out of a silver bowl. At least she gave in to her self-commiserations only in first-class establishments.
Mia loved and hated nights like tonight. She loved the music and she loved the dancing and she loved watching her young students and their contemporaries get to display the talents that they had worked so hard on during summer rehearsals. She truly didnât even mind the overbearing parents who expected their first-graders to be ballet prodigies and became annoyed when Mia didnât push the kids harder.
But the thing she hated was the fact that she could no longer be the one on stage dancing. Thinking such a miserable thought made her feel like a jealous old has-been, an emotion she despised even more.
