Fiona McArthur - Pregnant Midwife - Father Needed

‘At the moment you look like you could have anything you want.’

He stopped, right in the middle of the hallway, and turned to face her.

‘Really?’

He didn’t glance around to see if anyone was watching, just put his hand on her elbow and slowly steered her back against the wall. He stepped in, so he could stare down into her face, and his pupils dilated in the dim light as he scrutinised her features one by one.

Mia’s inner voice chanted, Tsk-tsk. Silly girl. That’s what comes of pulling the tiger’s tail.

His voice lowered, and when he spoke it seemed her inner voice was right.

‘I can have anything? What about you, Mia? Can I have you?’

LYREBIRD LAKE MATERNITY

Every day brings a miracle…

It’s time for these midwives to become mothers themselves!

Previously single mum Montana Browne captured our hearts in…THE MIDWIFE’S LITTLE MIRACLE

We caught up with Misty Buchanan in…THE MIDWIFE’S NEW-FOUND FAMILY

Now it’s time to meet Mia! PREGNANT MIDWIFE: FATHER NEEDED

A mother to five sons, Fiona McArthuris an Australian midwife who loves to write. Medical™ Romance gives Fiona the scope to write about all the wonderful aspects of adventure, romance, medicine and midwifery that she feels so passionate about—as well as an excuse to travel! So, now that the boys are older, her husband Ian and youngest son Rory are off with Fiona to meet new people, see new places, and have wonderful adventures. Fiona’s website is at www.fionamcarthur.com

Recent titles by the same author:

THE MIDWIFE’S LITTLE MIRACLE (Lyrebird Lake Maternity)

THE MIDWIFE’S NEW-FOUND FAMILY (Lyrebird Lake Maternity)

THEIR SPECIAL-CARE BABY

THE SURGEON’S SPECIAL GIFT

BY

MILLS & BOON ®

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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‘IS THIS the right place, Dad?’

Angus Campbell looked at the son he still couldn’t believe was his and patted Simon’s shoulder awkwardly. ‘Yes, mate.’ How did one learn to be a ‘dad’ in one weekend? Angus pushed the thought away, raised his hand, and knocked on his own father’s door. ‘I just needed a minute to get my head together.’

He was talking to a closed door and the lack of response was unexpected. Angus strode to the window and peered in.

The house was quiet, something he couldn’t remember it ever being. When you were brought up in a country doctor’s residence there was always someone coming or going. At the very least the housekeeper, Louisa, was usually there.

That would be the Louisa his father was going to marry. Another idea he had to get used to.

He turned the handle of the front door and, sure enough, it swung open. They’d never locked the front in his time either.

He looked at Simon and then peered down the central hallway again. ‘Doesn’t look like anyone is home.’

His words fell away as the door to the bathroom opened and out of a cloud of billowing steam, framed by the door, stepped a very pink—and delightfully curved in all the right places—woman. And she was only just wrapped in a leaf-green towel, putting him in mind of a rose on a dew-laden morning.

Angus learned his new son was a gentleman when Simon spun on his heel and faced the other way, unlike his father.

He should really do that too. Instead, Angus met the steady green eyes assessing his arrival and unashamedly enjoyed the spectacular view. ‘Sorry.’

‘So I see.’ Her voice was level and delightfully throaty, and she could have been dressed in a threepiece business suit given her composure. She held his gaze and he lost sight of the rest. ‘Can I help you?’ she finally asked.

Impressed, Angus did avert his eyes for a moment. ‘I’m looking for Ned.’ He looked back. Yep. Dewy rose. ‘Does he still live here?’

‘Ah.’ She nodded as if something had been confirmed. ‘The prodigal son! We heard you were coming. They’ve all left for the hospital to see the new baby. Give me a minute and I’ll be right out.’

She slipped into a room two doors down and shut the door firmly.

Angus blinked and stepped back.

‘She can handle you, Dad. Watch out.’ Angus turned to look at this young man he barely knew, his son, and tilted his head.

‘Really? On what knowledge do you base that assumption?’

Simon grinned. ‘On my knowledge of women.’

So that explained it? The kid wasn’t even twenty. ‘How can you have such knowledge of women at your tender age?’

Simon flashed him a cheeky smile and Angus felt that pang again that he’d missed seeing this amazing young being grow up. No doubt he himself would have been a different man if he’d known he’d had a son. Angus felt the anger rise again and he damped it down ruthlessly. It was okay. He knew now.

Simon went on. ‘Because I have four sisters and you’ve been working eighty hours a week all over the world since I was born.’

Angus thought of the extremely desirable women he’d dated for short periods in far-off places over the years and decided his son didn’t need to know his father had more than a little experience himself. ‘So you know about me and not the other way around?’

‘Mum filled me in.’

Angus swallowed the bile in his throat. That would be the woman who had told Angus she’d miscarried this boy-man twenty years ago. The one woman he’d loved and wanted to marry who had married someone else.

His son went on. ‘She said she had to in case something happened to her.’

Angus drew a discreet breath to remove the overtones from his voice. ‘Well, I wish she’d told me about you earlier.’

Grey eyes met grey and he saw a little of his own anger in Simon’s usual good nature. ‘So do I.’

Mia Storm, oblivious to the amusement she’d left in her wake, shut the door firmly and leant against it. Hunk alert.

There was something about that big, craggy man at the door that sucked the breath from her lungs and accelerated her heart rate in a totally unwanted response, but it was okay. She knew it was a hormonal reaction that she could control. Would control! She was coping with pregnancy hormones, wasn’t she?

She’d come to Lyrebird Lake to start anew, build a good life for her unborn child and herself, fresh and immune to the destructive hold men like him seemed to have over her.

Not precisely him, because she didn’t know him from Adam, but there was that look in his eye that said he’d like to take half a dozen steps forward and carry her back into the bathroom and kick the door shut.

Her arms broke out in goose-bumps. Where the heck had that come from? She could feel the heat in her cheeks and she stepped away from the door as if there was a blowtorch on the other side.

He was Ned’s son, for crikey’s sake. A man that had walked out of his father’s country doctor’s residence twenty years ago and not bothered once to see if dear, sweet Ned was still alive, or so her friend, Misty, said.