Two Doctors and A Baby. Brenda HarlenЧитать онлайн книгу.

      Avery’s apartment was dark and empty when she got home from the hospital, the quiet space echoing the hollow feeling inside her. The physical pleasure she’d experienced in those stolen moments with Justin Garrett had already faded away, leaving her aching and ashamed.

      She should never have kissed him. She certainly should never have let him drag her into the closet. And she most definitely should never have succumbed to the lustful desires that stirred deep inside whenever she was near him.

      Dropping onto the edge of the sofa, she buried her face in her hands, thoroughly mortified by her own behavior. She had a reputation for being cool and untouchable, but she’d been so hot and desperate for Justin that she’d let him screw her in a housekeeping supply closet.

      What if someone found out?

      Her cheeks burned with humiliation at the possibility. No doubt the hospital grapevine would love to know that the charismatic Dr. Romeo had succeeded in melting the frosty Dr. Wall-ice.

      Of course, the more than two years that had passed since she’d last had sex might have been a factor, too. She missed physical intimacy. She missed the sharing of close personal contact with another person, the rising tension, the exhilarating release. But she’d never been good at sex outside of a relationship, which explained why it had been such a long time since she’d had sex.

      Prior to the scheduled setup with Nolan tonight, she couldn’t even remember the name of the last guy she’d dated. Was it Simon? Or Mike? Simon was the real estate agent who lived on the ninth floor of her building. Dark hair, darker eyes, sexy smile—but a sloppy kisser. Mike was one of the cameramen on Ryder to the Rescue, her brother’s TV show. Shaggy blond hair, hazel eyes, great laugh and—she was informed by her brother after she’d agreed to meet Mike for coffee—engaged to one of the show’s producers.

      Or maybe it had been Kevin. She’d almost forgotten about him. They’d met on the Fourth of July, having struck up a conversation while they were both in line at the Fireman’s Picnic—a charity barbecue for the children’s wing of the hospital. He’d asked for her number and he’d even called a few times after that, trying to set up a date, but they’d never actually made it to that next step.

      Her life really was pathetic.

      Spending time with Amy and Ben, she sometimes found herself wondering if she would ever find that once-in-a-lifetime kind of love that her friend shared with her husband. The kind of love that she’d once believed she shared with the man she’d planned to marry.

      Avery had met Wyatt Travers at med school, when she was in her first year and he was in his third. Even then, she’d had reasons for not wanting to get involved with a doctor, but he’d swept her off her feet. Two years after they met, he put an engagement ring on her finger, and six months later, they moved in together.

      Their lives were undeniably busy and they were often going in opposite directions, but whenever they had time just to be together, they would talk about their plans for the future, where they would set up a medical practice together, when they would start a family and how many children they would have.

      Then he’d decided to go to Haiti as part of an emergency medical response team. Avery had wanted to go with him, but she was just finishing up her residency, so Wyatt went alone. He was gone for six months and when he finally came back, it was to tell her that he’d fallen in love with someone else. When Avery reminded him that he was supposed to be in love with her and that their wedding was scheduled for the following summer, he admitted that he hadn’t just fallen in love with Stasia—he’d married her.

      Avery had immediately packed up and moved out of their apartment, because it seemed a little awkward to continue to live with her former fiancé and his new wife. She’d crashed with a friend for a few weeks until she figured out what she wanted to do with her life now.

      It had taken her a long time to get over Wyatt’s betrayal. He’d argued that she couldn’t blame him for falling in love with someone else, but she could and she did. If he’d really loved her, he wouldn’t have fallen in love with Stasia—and since he’d fallen in love with Stasia, it proved that he’d never really loved her.

      Either way, what it meant for Avery was that there wasn’t going to be a joint medical practice or a wedding in August or a baby born two and a half years after that. Not for her, anyway. Wyatt, on the other hand, had accelerated the timeline he and Avery had mapped out for their life together, becoming a father five months after his return from Haiti.

      That was when Avery realized she needed to make some changes, and when her brother, Ryder, was offered a contract to do a cable television show, she decided to go with him to Charisma. She was immediately charmed by the small town and grateful that it was far enough from Boston that she wouldn’t worry about running into Wyatt or Stasia at the grocery store. Because as unlikely as that might seem in the city, it was a risk she didn’t want to take.

      She threw herself into her career and focused on proving herself to the staff at Mercy Hospital. She’d succeeded in building an impeccable reputation, and she’d also made some really good friends, including Amy Seabrook. She even went out on the occasional date, but she hadn’t fallen in love again.

      And when she went home at the end of the day, it was always to an empty apartment. She tried to convince herself that she liked it that way—that she was glad she didn’t have to worry about anyone leaving wet towels in the bathroom or dirty socks on the floor; that she appreciated the freedom of choosing whether she wanted to listen to music or watch TV or simply enjoy the quiet solitude.

      But deep in her heart, she couldn’t deny the truth: she was alone and she was lonely. She wanted a partner with whom to share her life and build a family, but she was growing increasingly skeptical about either of those things ever happening for her.

      In the past six months, she’d attended three bridal showers, four baby showers and two first-birthday parties. All of her friends and contemporaries were at the point in their lives where they were getting married and having babies, and she was sincerely happy for them. But she was a little envious, too.

      She was thirty-two years old and her life was so far off track she couldn’t see the track anymore. She was so desperate for physical contact with a man that she’d turned to Justin Garrett.

      Not that he ever bragged about his conquests—he didn’t need to. The women he bedded were only too happy to add their names to the extensive and ever-growing list of those who had experienced