The Baby Emergency

“I’d rather pay a childminder to look after Matthew. At least that way I’d know they were doing things properly.”

“Properly!” Ross repeated her last word through pursed lips.

“Yes, properly, Ross,” Shelly snapped, her words coming out much too harsh. But suddenly Ross was getting too near for comfort, making promises he would surely never, ever keep, and perhaps more to the point Shelly was terrified of letting him into her life. Terrified that one look at the real Shelly—the mom, the housewife, the eternal juggling game that her life was at the moment—would have Ross scuttling away in two seconds flat.

But Ross wasn’t ready to even consider taking no for an option!

Dear Reader,

Tall, blond, drop-dead gorgeous and kind, as well. I fell in love with Doctor Ross Bodey the second he popped into my head—quite simply he was everything a girl could wish for.

And that was the problem for my fabulous heroine Shelly—she isn’t a girl, she’s a woman. A woman who’s a touch older and a touch more jaded with the world than Ross. A woman who’s not just looking out for her own bruised heart, but that of her special-needs son.

I loved following their journey, sitting up well into the small hours, glued to my laptop, peeling back the layers and finding the real man behind the perfect smile. For Shelly and I, Ross Bodey was worth it—I hope he is for you, too.

Happy reading,

Carol Marinelli

The Baby Emergency

Carol Marinelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

PROLOGUE

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

EPILOGUE

Copyright

THERE were two very good reasons Shelly didn’t want to be there.

For one thing, the barrage of sympathetic stares and awkward greetings that were sure to greet her she could certainly do without.

And as to the other…

Darting into the changing room, she rather unceremoniously dumped the mud cake she had bought on the bench, before checking her reflection in the full-length mirror.

The pregnancy books had been right about one thing at least—the mid-trimester glow they had promised as a reward for the constant nausea and mood swings had finally appeared.

Glowing was the only word that would describe her.

Even Shelly, with her eternally self-critical eye, acknowledged that for once in her thirty years her skin was smooth and clear with not a blemish in sight. Even her long auburn curls seemed to be behaving for the first time in memory, falling in heavy silky tendrils instead of their usual chaotic frizz, and her vivid green eyes were definitely sparkling.

Funny she should look so good when everything around her was falling apart.

Closing her eyes, Shelly took a deep cleansing breath, trying to settle the flurry of butterflies dancing in her stomach. Even the baby seemed to sense her nervousness, wriggling and kicking, little feet or hands making certain they were felt.

‘It’s OK, baby.’ Shelly put a protective hand to her stomach and spoke softly, hoping her falsely calm voice might somehow soothe the child within. ‘We’re going to face this together.’

Touching up her lipstick, Shelly fiddled with her top for a moment, the flimsy powder-blue top softening the ripe bulge of her stomach. She even indulged for a tiny moment the still surprising sight of a cleavage on her increasingly unfamiliar body.

This should be such a happy time. The words buzzed around in her head. How she wanted it to be happy, how she wanted to enjoy the changes that were overwhelming her, to be afforded again the luxury of revelling in what had been a very much planned and wanted baby.

Still wanted.

A fresh batch of tears was adding to the sparkle in her eyes and, blowing her nose loudly, Shelly practised a forced smile in the mirror and picked up the cake. Looking down at her bump, her free hand went back for a final comforting stroke of the baby within. ‘Come on, little one, let’s get this over with.’

‘Shelly!’ Her name seemed to be coming at her from all directions as her colleagues welcomed her warmly, welcoming her straight into the click of things, but despite the smiles and casual chit-chat, not one of them managed to look her in the eye.

Not one of them asked how her pregnancy was progressing.

Except Melissa.

The playroom on the children’s ward was for once void of patients and anxious parents, filled instead with staff, some in uniform, some like Shelly in regular clothes, all clutching cups and paper plates, all there to say goodbye to a certain doctor who in his six-month rotation had brought more vitality and energy to the ward than most did in their whole careers.

Like a radar homing in, Shelly made her way over to her staunchly loyal colleague, grateful in advance for the quiet support Melissa in her own unique way would impart. ‘Quite a spread,’ Shelly said, handing Melissa her cake. ‘Anyone would think it was one of the consultants leaving, not a temporary intern.’