Kate Hardy - A Baby Of Her Own

“Then you’re mistaken. Very much mistaken.” A muscle clenched in his jaw. “You adore children.”

“That’s why I’m a pediatrician.” And why he was one, too; she’d bet her last penny.

“It’s more than that, Jodie. I’ve seen you on the ward, feeding babies and cuddling them—all way beyond your job description. You even do it when you’re supposed to be off duty.”

“Okay, so I love children.” She shrugged. “So what?”

“Jodie, you said you wanted children. One of each, you said. But I’m infertile. I can’t give you a child. Ever.”

I’ve always enjoyed medical drama, and A Baby of Her Own was inspired by my own personal drama! My daughter, Chloë, spent her first Christmas in hospital with bronchiolitis. I spent the week at her bedside, and the only way I got through it was to pretend it was happening to someone else. So I started writing a medical romance, set in a children’s ward. When Chloë came home, I carried on—and the book was accepted just before her first birthday!

Pediatric registrar Jodie, is full of fun and wants everyone to join in. She decides consultant Sam needs bringing out of his reserve—but then she falls in love with him. Yet Sam doesn’t think he can give her what she really wants—a baby of her own. Even though he’s just as much in love with her, he plans to be noble and walk away so she can build a future with a man who’s not infertile.

Jodie doesn’t give up so easily.

A Baby of Her Own tells the story of how Jodie convinces Sam that he’s the man for her—with the help of her friends at Melbury City General Hospital. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it.

With love,

Kate Hardy

www.millsandboon.co.uk

COVER

Dear Reader Dear Reader Dear Reader TITLE PAGE 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 , I’ve always enjoyed medical drama, and A Baby of Her Own was inspired by my own personal drama! My daughter, Chloë, spent her first Christmas in hospital with bronchiolitis. I spent the week at her bedside, and the only way I got through it was to pretend it was happening to someone else. So I started writing a medical romance, set in a children’s ward. When Chloë came home, I carried on—and the book was accepted just before her first birthday! Pediatric registrar Jodie, is full of fun and wants everyone to join in. She decides consultant Sam needs bringing out of his reserve—but then she falls in love with him. Yet Sam doesn’t think he can give her what she really wants—a baby of her own. Even though he’s just as much in love with her, he plans to be noble and walk away so she can build a future with a man who’s not infertile. Jodie doesn’t give up so easily. A Baby of Her Own tells the story of how Jodie convinces Sam that he’s the man for her—with the help of her friends at Melbury City General Hospital. I hope you have as much fun reading it as I did writing it. With love, Kate Hardy

TITLE PAGE A Baby of Her Own Kate Hardy www.millsandboon.co.uk

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

‘INCEY wincey spider climbed up Amy’s arch; down he came, to make our Amy laugh!’

Sam Taylor stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that voice, and it shouldn’t have been singing nursery songs. He strode to the doorway of the small room—a room that was really a quarter of one of the bays in the paediatric ward, partitioned off to give more flexibility when it came to isolation nursing or a parent needing privacy—and leaned on the jamb, watching the young doctor who was playing her own version of Incey Wincey Spider with the toddler in traction in the cot, wiggling her fingers up the traction arch and then letting them drop down onto the little girl’s tummy.

Her blonde curls cascaded over her shoulders, hiding her face from Sam’s view, but he had no doubt she was smiling. Just like the red-headed toddler lying on the iron-framed cot in front of her, flat on her back with both legs in plaster. The ties that bound the child’s legs to the traction arch were gradually moved lower and lower down the arch so her hip joints were pushed back into their proper place as her legs were stretched out.

Why was his registrar playing with a sick child when there were notes to be written up and a ward round to finish? Particularly when they were so short-staffed, thanks to the virus that had decimated the ward. Play was fine in its place, but they just didn’t have time for it right now.

He cleared his throat. ‘Dr Price. A word, please?’

She looked up instantly and her green eyes widened as she saw the grim expression on his face. ‘Of course, Mr Taylor.’ Jodie gave the consultant a brief nod, then turned back to the little girl. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Amy.’ She gently touched the tip of the child’s nose, the gesture telling in its affection. ‘Big smile?’

‘Yes, Doc-a Dodo,’ the little girl lisped, doing her best to give Jodie a smile, though clearly disappointed that she was going to lose her playmate.

Satisfied that the child was happy to be left, Jodie joined Sam at the door.

‘There’s still half a round to do,’ he pointed out tightly.

‘I know.’

His steel-grey eyes narrowed. She knew, and she was leaving all the work to others? ‘And you’re playing with Amy Simcox.’

She nodded, seemingly unconcerned. ‘Apart from the fact that plenty of studies show how play helps children to recover faster, it’s my day off.’

Sam flushed at the double rebuke. ‘I see. Well, I’m sorry, Dr Price. Though if you wore a white coat like the rest of us,’ he continued, his voice very soft and very dangerous, ‘maybe it would be easier to tell when you’re off duty.’

It was her turn to redden now; with her fair skin, she flushed spectacularly. Literally to the roots of her hair. ‘In my experience, small children are scared enough when they come into hospital. A white coat’s just another barrier for the kids and their parents to overcome.’

‘And how do the parents know you’re who you say you are?’ he countered silkily. ‘Anyone could walk around here with a stethoscope slung round their neck and a clipboard under one arm—’ just as she casually floated round the ward ‘—and say they’re a doctor.’

‘True.’ She gave him an impish grin that riled him even more. ‘But they don’t have one of these.’ She fished her hospital ID badge out of the pocket of her trousers.

He ought to remind her of her position as a junior doctor, Sam knew, but a glint in her eyes warned him she was expecting something of the sort. He couldn’t be more than six or seven years older than she was, but she made him feel as if there were a whole generation between them.