Kara Lennox: The Millionaire Next Door

“How many times are you going to say that?” Hudson asked.

“Until I convince myself to follow through, I guess.”

“I like you, Amanda. I also want you. I guess that’s no big surprise. But maybe it would be better if we didn’t go there.”

She nodded. “Much wiser.”

“Good night, then.”

“Yes, good night.” She turned, got as far as the door, actually had her hand on the knob when she turned to look at him one more time.

The naked hunger she saw in his eyes did her in. No man had ever looked at her like that, as if she was the last morsel of bread on earth. And Amanda could no more deny her own desire than she could stop breathing.

“Don’t look so glum about it. I have to lower my blood pressure, too. We can work on it together.”

She brightened. “Could we make it a contest? Whoever lowers their blood pressure the most gets, um…” Gets to kiss the other one senseless.

The Millionaire Next Door

Kara Lennox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Texas native Kara Lennox has been an art director, typesetter, advertising copywriter, textbook editor and reporter. She’s worked in a boutique, a health club and has conducted telephone surveys. She’s been an antiques dealer and briefly ran a clipping service. But no work has made her happier than writing romance novels.

When Kara isn’t writing, she indulges in an ever-changing array of weird hobbies, from rock climbing to crystal digging. But her mind is never far from her stories. Just about anything can send her running to her computer to jot down a new idea for some future novel.

HARLEQUIN AMERICAN ROMANCE

841—VIRGIN PROMISE

856—TWIN EXPECTATIONS

871—TAME AN OLDER MAN

893—BABY BY THE BOOK

917—THE UNLAWFULLY WEDDED PRINCESS

934—VIXEN IN DISGUISE *

942—PLAIN JANE’S PLAN*

951—SASSY CINDERELLA*

974—FORTUNE’S TWINS

991—THE MILLIONAIRE NEXT DOOR

Name: Hudson Stack, M.D.

Diagnosis: High Blood Pressure

General Instructions:

• Take a vacation in a small Texas town.

• Spend some quality time with your adorable daughter.

• Learn how to fish.

• Fall head over heels in love with your beautiful blond neighbor.

Signed: George Blake Stimson, M.D.

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

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Hudson Stack, M.D., sat in the office of George Blake Stimson, Chief of Surgery at Boston General, his irritation rising as he learned the results of his mandatory physical.

“Your blood pressure is in the red zone,” George said, continuing a long harangue. “Your cholesterol is off the charts, your triglycerides are completely out of whack. Your caffeine consumption is three times what it ought to be. Your reflexes are slow, you’re sleep deprived, and you’re irritable. And no doctor, I don’t care how famous or how popular, is going to operate on patients in my hospital when he’s falling apart.”

“Are you telling me I’m fired?” Hudson asked, alarmed. He’d had these little discussions with George before. Usually the crusty old surgeon warned him to take it easy, eat healthier, get more sleep, that sort of thing.

Hudson had believed his job was secure. He’d recently become the hospital’s best public relations tool. Inventing an artificial valve that was going to save millions of lives had put Hudson’s name in the medical journals. Saving the mayor’s life with an emergency quintuple bypass had put his name in the headlines. Most recently, Boston Life magazine had named him “Boston’s Hottest Bachelor,” ensuring he remain in the public eye far longer than Hudson would have liked.

“Of course you’re not fired. Administration would tar and feather me if I did that. But you are going on vacation, starting now.”

“I can’t,” Hudson immediately replied. “I’ve got two surgeries in the morning and three more—”

“Those surgeries will be reassigned to other surgeons.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I can and will do whatever it takes. Would you want a surgeon in your shape operating on your heart?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me.”

“Your test results speak differently.”

Hudson knew that arguing was fruitless. George’s word was like God’s around here. Hudson could appeal to no one; no one would take his side.

“I suppose I could use a few days off,” he finally said, grudgingly. And maybe it was true. He hadn’t seen his daughter in a week—at least, not awake. He usually got home long after she was in bed. He would spend a few minutes just looking at Bethany as she slept, reassuring himself that she was fine.

“I’m not talking about a few days,” George said. “I want you to take off at least a month. And I want you to get far, far away from Boston and go someplace where nobody knows you. And I want you to learn to fish.”

Hudson just sat there, stunned. A month? He couldn’t take that long away from his work.

“Hudson, I’m not speaking now as your superior, but as your friend. You’re a heart attack waiting to happen. Maybe not this week, or this year, but you’re heading in that general direction. I even heard you were seen smoking.”

“What snitch told you that?” He smoked two, maybe three cigarettes a day. Smoking gave him an excuse to slip outside, alone, and do nothing for a few minutes.

George rolled his eyes. He handed Hudson a piece of paper with an address and phone number on it. “Ed Hardison and I were in med school together. He lives in Texas. I want you to call him. He’ll find a place for you to stay. He has a fishing boat and all the tackle.”

This was like some drug-induced nightmare. Texas? In the summer? “You’re serious about the fishing?”

“It’s the best therapy for stress I can think of,” George said with a dreamy look in his eye. “Take your kid. Spend a month or two doing absolutely nothing. After that, you’ll have another physical. If you look better then, you can come back to work.”

Hudson went straight home, cursing the entire time. He was just angry enough that he was going to call George’s bluff. There were probably half a dozen hospitals in the Boston area drooling to have him on staff.

As he waited for an interminable traffic light to change, he checked his cell phone messages. Janey had called with a litany of reminders: have his tux cleaned, have his car serviced, call his aunt on her birthday tomorrow. Oh, and the Heart Association fund-raiser was Friday night.

His mother had called with a similar list—and he was planning to take Janey to the fund-raiser, right?

He sighed. He hated black-tie affairs, but they were a necessary evil, he supposed. At least he never had to scrounge for a date. Janey was always available. He probably should just marry her and get it over with. He knew she would say yes if he asked. Lord knew she’d been hinting at it long enough.