M.J. Rodgers - Father By Choice

Emily gazed out at the boats again. “The problem with my old life plan was that it required the cooperation of someone else to work. With my new life plan, I don’t need anyone else’s cooperation.”

So that’s why she’d gone the artificial insemination route. Her choice made a little more sense to Brad now. But understanding her reasons hadn’t changed his opinion of her actions.

Except the timing was lousy. He was in his final year as an E.R. resident and had those Board Certification exams to study for. Finding the hours he’d need to establish a close relationship with Emily was going to be difficult.

But his baby would be a reality in seven months’ time—a reality that couldn’t be ignored. He was going to be there to see to its emotional, physical and financial needs. That’s what a responsible father—and a real man—did.

Her initial life plan had included a father for her child. It was only the bastards she’d picked who had soured her on the idea.

He could make it sweet for her again.

Dear Reader,

Father by Choice is the first book in a new series called CODE RED. This series tells the stories of dedicated medical professionals, police and firefighters as they save lives and fall in love in the fictional community of Courage Bay, located in Southern California.

Courage Bay’s residents are proud of their long history of selfless acts of bravery. In this first story we get a glimpse into the community’s earliest history after a time capsule is dug up to reveal a hundred-year-old mystery. Solving the case will take the cooperation of two unlikely sleuths: Brad Winslow—an E.R. resident at Courage Bay Hospital and a man on the front lines of the community’s emergency teams—and Emily Barrett, the curator of the city’s botanical gardens and a member of its esteemed historical society.

As they join forces to find the answers to the mystery unearthed with the time capsule, Brad and Emily soon discover themselves confronted with a few modern-day surprises, as well. And the best of those surprises turns out to be the deep and very unexpected love that they begin to share.

I hope you enjoy Brad and Emily’s story. If you would like a personally autographed sticker for your book, send me a SASE at P.O. Box 284, Seabeck, Washington, 98380-0284.

Warmly,

M.J.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is for Frances Demoor of Kalamazoo, Michigan.

Fran is a real heroine.

Even when faced with the worst of life’s heartbreaks,

she always responds with kindness and love.

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

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

EMILY BARRETT KNEW WHEN to stop and smell the roses. And those that opened beneath the dazzling April sunshine filling Courage Bay’s Botanical Gardens were irresistible.

She buried her nose inside the fragrant petals of “Perfect Moment,” a red-orange bloom with a center fold of pure gold and then went on to the “Chicago Peace” behind it, a lush pink that measured no less than five inches across. The bright lemon yellow of “Graceland” farther down the trellised walkway was already producing more flowers than any other bush. And then there was “Unforgettable”—so perfectly named—a robust giant with petals as soft as a baby’s cheek.

No gardener could take credit for creating a rose. But when she met their needs, Emily felt as proud as any parent could gazing into their beautiful fresh faces.

“We’re going to miss the crane guy,” Josh Smithson warned.

She looked up to see her assistant purposely eyeing his wristwatch. Nothing was as impatient as youth.

“Don’t you like flowers?” she asked as she straightened, feeling grateful for every one of her thirty-three years.

“They’re all right, I guess.”

The sweep of Emily’s hand encompassed the colorful blooms fluttering in the early afternoon breeze. “All right? What could be more impressive than this?”

“I don’t know.”

Josh’s most frequent answer to any question she asked. Either he knew very little about his own feelings or was hesitant to reveal them.

When Emily was nineteen, she knew exactly how she felt and had no problem sharing it. As her brothers used to complain, getting her to shut up was the real trick. Maybe this was a gender thing. Most of the males she knew refused to acknowledge they even had feelings, much less took the time to examine them.

“You want me to like the flowers, Dr. Barrett?”

If Josh had asked that sarcastically, she would have laughed. But the flat-open sincerity in his words bothered Emily.

“You don’t have to like them for me. Or anyone else. Like them for you or not at all.”

“You won’t be disappointed?”

“Hey, you work hard, and you’re dependable. I’ve never had a better assistant. So if flowers aren’t your thing, it’s okay.”

He greeted her assurance with a bony shoulder shrug.

“What is your thing, Josh?”

“I don’t know.”

There it was again. And the saddest thing about his words was that Emily believed them. Why did high schools require all kids learn algebra—something which most of them would never use—and yet fail to teach them how important it was to get to know themselves—something they could all use?

“Has taking this year off before going to college helped at all?” she asked.

Another shrug.

“Your folks have any suggestions?” she persisted.

“My dad and granddad want me to study science like they did and join the firm. But I suck at that stuff.”

“So outside of being a great assistant, what don’t you suck at?”

“I don’t know.”

Emily gave up. Josh was a good worker, but as a conversationalist he left a lot to be desired. Her thoughts were rudely interrupted by the sudden blast of a leaf blower. Oh, no. Not again. She whirled around, trying to determine where he was. Then the breeze blew a faint whiff of gasoline fumes in her face and she knew.

Emily charged up the path through the rose garden, past the swaying beds of fragrant lilacs, and broke into a jog around the lily pond. Turning the corner, she saw Lester inside the greenhouse. He was shuffling to the tune he heard in his headphones, the leaf blower in his hand blasting dirt and debris off the stone path.

She’d asked him repeatedly not to use that polluting piece of crap in the Botanical Gardens, especially not the greenhouse. The toxic fumes were dangerous to the more fragile plant species, not to mention human lungs.

But Lester considered sweeping with a broom to be beneath his manhood. Which was why, every time he thought she wasn’t around, he brought out the leaf blower.

Emily waved, trying to get his attention. But he wasn’t looking in her direction. She hurried up the cobblestone path toward him, feeling her nostrils burn, trying not to inhale too deeply. She called out to him, but he obviously couldn’t hear her above the noise of the leaf blower and whatever he considered music in his ears.

Her temples had begun to throb. She entered the greenhouse, knowing she’d have to grab his arm to get his attention. But before she could, the heat and exhaust hit her full blast.