Veronica Sattler - Wild Honey

Cover Page

Excerpt Lovely though Randi was, the child claimed Travis’s attention Matt’s small body already held evidence of the long-boned height that was as much a McLean trait as the square jaw and blond curls. His legs pumped furiously as he went after the beach ball His son. Oh, yeah, most definitely his son. Travis was overcome by an emotion so new he wasn’t sure what it was, except that his heart seemed to somersault. Without thinking, he caught the ball. He found himself looking into a small upturned face. “Sorry, mister,” said the boy. “My name’s Matt. Wanna play catch with my mom ‘n me?” he asked hopefully. Travis stared into the eager face of his son, swallowed past the lump in his throat and remembered feeling the way Matt looked right now…. Dad, would you play a game of catch with me? Sorry, Travis, but I’m late for a meeting at the hospital “Sure thing, Matt,” he said.

About The Author ABOUT THE AUTHOR Born in New Jersey, author Veronica Sattler has had several career interests, ranging from teaching to selling antiques to her ultimate passion, writing. She was inspired by historical writer Kathleen Woodiwiss, and went on to win several awards in the historical genre. Wild Honey is her second contemporary novel. Veronica, who also enjoys gourmet cooking and American folk art, currently resides in rural Pennsylvania with her daughter, Alyssa, and an Irish wolfhound named Brendan.

Title Page Wild Honey Veronica Sattler www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication To Peg and Bill Kreitler with 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

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Copyright

Matt’s small body already held evidence of the long-boned height that was as much a McLean trait as the square jaw and blond curls. His legs pumped furiously as he went after the beach ball

His son. Oh, yeah, most definitely his son. Travis was overcome by an emotion so new he wasn’t sure what it was, except that his heart seemed to somersault. Without thinking, he caught the ball. He found himself looking into a small upturned face.

“Sorry, mister,” said the boy. “My name’s Matt. Wanna play catch with my mom ‘n me?” he asked hopefully.

Travis stared into the eager face of his son, swallowed past the lump in his throat and remembered feeling the way Matt looked right now….

Dad, would you play a game of catch with me?

Sorry, Travis, but I’m late for a meeting at the hospital

“Sure thing, Matt,” he said.

Born in New Jersey, author Veronica Sattler has had several career interests, ranging from teaching to selling antiques to her ultimate passion, writing. She was inspired by historical writer Kathleen Woodiwiss, and went on to win several awards in the historical genre. Wild Honey is her second contemporary novel.

Veronica, who also enjoys gourmet cooking and American folk art, currently resides in rural Pennsylvania with her daughter, Alyssa, and an Irish wolfhound named Brendan.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Peg and Bill Kreitler with love.

DEAR GOD, it can’t be! Please, oh, please, it can’t be him! Randi Terhune mouthed the silent plea, her bloodless lips moving almost imperceptibly.

She stared at the big handsome man being transferred from a stretcher to an emergency-room gurney. It was him, she realized as she fought to steady her trembling hands. There couldn’t be two such perfect male specimens walking the earth, unless they were twins, and Travis McLean’s information profile had revealed no such thing. Dear Lord, what am I going to do?

Dimly she was aware he was the patient they’d just rerouted from Bethesda Naval Hospital. Brought in by special helicopter, he’d been flown here to Johns Hopkins when fog prevented landing at the original destination.

At the forefront of her mind, however, other things about him loomed much larger. Like the fact that he was the father of her child. A child he knew nothing about. Had never seen.

A child whose mother was still a virgin.

Randi managed to pull herself together enough to issue an order to one of her staff to assist in the admittance procedure. She was buying herself some time, but that was all. As head ER nurse, she’d be the one expected to deal with this VIP patient. The call from Bethesda had been very specific about the man’s importance, although they hadn’t given any details.

Glancing at the memo she pulled from her clipboard, Randi frowned. He’d be a doctor, of course. He’d been a fourth-year medical student back then, so he had to be a full-fledged physician by now. But why would the brass at Bethesda be ordering the red-carpet treatment for a doctor—a doctor with a gunshot wound?

Hope flared as she redirected her gaze to the tall blond man now stretched out on the gurney. Maybe there were two of them! There were such things as doubles, she’d heard. The Germans even had a word for it—Doppel gänger, if she recalled her high-school German correctly.

Carefully, trying to appear casual amid the usual emergency-room chaos, she made her way toward the nurse she’d directed to admit the man on the gurney. She saw John Ames, the second-year resident in surgery on duty tonight, and managed a smile as he approached the gurney from the opposite side.

At least, she hoped what she did passed for a smile. Inwardly she was quaking like a leaf in a storm.

Randi held her breath and prayed as she stole a glance over her assistant’s shoulder. At the form on the clipboard that gave the patient’s full name.

And felt her heart sink as she read, “Travis Paxton McLean.”

“E-excuse me, Pierson,” she stammered when her assistant, a big capable black woman, glanced up at her and then offered her the clipboard. “I…there’s something I forgot to take care of in my office. Continue until I get back, please. I’ll…I’ll only be a minute.”

How she managed to get to her tiny office at the far end of the corridor, Randi never knew. But somehow, agonizing minutes later, she was shutting the door behind her. She leaned back against it in the unlit room, her heart slamming against her ribs.

She hadn’t really expected to learn he was someone else of course. No, reading his name had only compounded the feeling that the floor had just opened under her. The feeling she got when she’d risked a glance at the man’s eyes: the exact same eyes as her son’s.

Images swirled as the past came up to confront her—the tastefully decorated waiting room of the doctor’s office outside Cambridge, the look that might have hinted at embarrassment on the handsome face, the lazy Southern draw! as he asked for an application, and finally the sharp crystalline blue of those eyes.