Her Maverick M.d.

On a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst, the reality of sharing a bed with Jon was a fifteen.

It pushed twenty when she felt the mattress dip from his weight. And the masculine scent of his skin drifted to her, firing up her hormones even more.

“Good night.”

“‘Night.” His voice was ragged, rough.

Dawn couldn’t speak for him, but she was as tense as a bowstring and ready to snap. “Jon, I—”

He threw back the covers. “This isn’t going to work.”

She rolled over to face him. “What’s wrong?”

“I want you.” There was no mistaking the need in his voice this time. It was honest and raw. “I can’t help it. I can’t make it stop. If I touch you—” He swore under his breath. “I’m going in the other room.”

This time he didn’t say anything about sleeping. And there was no mistaking the way her heart soared in response to his declaration. He wanted her.

Before he could get out of bed she moved closer and reached for him. It was automatic, instinctive. Her hand touched his arm, the warm skin. And this time she said the word. “Stay.”

* * *

Montana Mavericks: The Baby Bonanza Meet Rust Creek Falls’ newest bundles of joy!

TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.

To editor Susan Litman, who guides us through this Montana Mavericks maze with a combination of grace and humor.

It’s always a pleasure working with you.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

Dr. Jonathan Clifton had never understood what it meant to be stopped dead in your tracks. That changed when he walked into the Rust Creek Falls Medical Clinic and saw the woman behind the reception desk. She stopped him cold—or maybe hot—with long blond hair falling past her shoulders and bluebonnet-colored eyes that could tempt a man to kiss her. Or bring him to his knees. Since he had no intention of letting that happen to him again it was strictly an observation about the very pretty receptionist he would be working with.

Moving to the open window separating her from the crowded waiting room, Jon patiently waited for her to hang up the phone. That was when he noticed her blue scrubs decorated with cartoon animals. The stethoscope draped around her neck was a clue that she probably wasn’t the receptionist. But she sounded a little frazzled, possibly fatigued and even prettier up close than she’d appeared from across the room.

When she hung up the phone, he smiled at her. “Hi. Is it always this busy in here?”

“Pretty much. But today is more crazy than usual.”

Say something brilliant, he told himself. And funny. “It’s still summer. Not even flu season yet.”

“Tell me about it,” she agreed. “Things should get really interesting in a couple months.”

“Flu shots would help. Might want to think about having a flu shot fair. Kind of like a health fair but with the focus on prevention.” When she smiled at him he nearly broke his promise to not let a woman bring him to his knees. “Just a thought.”

“It’s a good one. There are few things Rust Creek Falls likes more than a reason for a community get-together.”

“Folks here do like a gathering.”

“So you know our little slice of Montana paradise,” she said.

“Yeah.”

The woman tilted her head, studying him. “Have we met? You look familiar.”

“I’ve been here before. My brother lives just outside of town.”

“Ah, a visitor. And you’re here to see the doctor. I’m sorry you’re not feeling well. Have you signed in?”

He looked at the lined sheet attached to a clipboard. Each line was a sticky strip. When patients arrived, they signed in then the name was removed for privacy purposes. “I’m not a patient.”

“Oh?” Her expression turned appraising and a little wary. “Are you selling something?”

He was trying to sell himself—his personality, at least—because he would be working with this woman. But he’d always been more interested in doctoring than witty repartee.

And Jon could feel it coming on. The persona his brothers referenced when they’d nicknamed him Professor. The one where he turned a little formal, a little stiff and standoffish. Too analytical. But trying not to be left him a lot tongue-tied. “I’m here— The kids—”

“So you have an appointment for your child?” She glanced past him, looking for one.

“No.” That sounded abrupt. He smiled. “I don’t have kids. That I know of.”

She looked a little surprised at the lame remark. “You’re a visitor and may not know this, but thanks to Homer Gilmore’s wedding moonshine prank more than one man became a father this year without knowing. It’s not something to be cavalier about.”