Книга - From Neighbors…to Newlyweds?

From Neighbors...to Newlyweds?
Brenda Harlen


All orthopaedic surgeonDr Matt Garrett ever wanted was a family – and the right woman. Ever since he moved next door to Georgia Reed, he had a sneaking suspicion that Georgia was that woman.The beautiful widow and her kids came as a package deal…which suited Matt just fine. Now if only he could make Georgia see that they could be more than good neighbours…










Matt glanced at his watch as he followed her into the hall, and she knew he was eager to head back over to the park.

But when they made their way down the stairs and into the empty living room, he frowned.

“Where did the babysitter go?”

“I sent her home.” She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt, because now that they were really alone, her stomach was in such a mess of knots she didn’t think they’d ever untangle.

“I thought we were going back to the park to see the fireworks.”

“I changed my mind.”

“Don’t I get a vote?”

She shook her head. “No, but you have a choice.”

“What choice is that?” Matt asked her.

She lifted her arms to link them around his neck. “You can go back to the park for the fireworks—” her fingers cupped the back of his head, drew it down toward hers “—or we can make some of our own right here.”

And then she kissed him.




About the Author


BRENDA HARLEN grew up in a small town, surrounded by books and imaginary friends. Although she always dreamed of being a writer, she chose to follow a more traditional career path first. After two years of practicing as an attorney (including an appearance in front of the Supreme Court of Canada), she gave up her “real” job to be a mum and to try her hand at writing books. Three years, five manuscripts and another baby later, she sold her first book—an RWA Golden Heart winner.

Brenda lives in southern Ontario with her real-life husband/hero, two heroes-in-training and two neurotic dogs. She is still surrounded by books (too many books, according to her children) and imaginary friends, but she also enjoys communicating with real people. Readers can contact Brenda by email at brendaharlen@yahoo.com.




From

Neighbours…

to Newlyweds?

Brenda Harlen







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Because this series is about brothers, this book

is dedicated to Brett (AKA “BIL”).

You became my brother when you married my sister,

and through all the years that you’ve been part of our

family you’ve proven yourself to be a terrific husband

and a wonderful father—a true romantic hero.

(PS You’re a pretty good brother-in-law, too.)




Chapter One


The house was finally, blissfully quiet.

Georgia Reed mentally crossed her fingers as she sat down at the antique dining room table, hoping for one hour. If she could have a full sixty minutes to focus on the manuscript pages spread out in front of her, she might actually catch up on her work. Unfortunately, the thought of catching a nap was much more tempting than the book she was currently reading.

Though she was officially on maternity leave from her job as an associate editor at Tandem Publishing, she had agreed to accept work on a contract basis to help out the senior editor and keep some money coming in. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but Georgia hadn’t been nearly as productive as she’d hoped to be, especially since she’d uprooted her kids and moved to Pinehurst only six weeks earlier.

She sipped from the cup of herbal tea she’d reheated for a third time and skimmed through the previous chapter to refresh her memory. But just as her mind began to focus on the story, it occurred to her that it was too quiet.

The realization kicked her protective instincts into overdrive. She pushed her chair away from the table and raced across the hall to the living room, where she’d left four-year-old Quinn and Shane with a pile of building blocks. The carpet was littered with the chunky pieces but her boys were both gone—no doubt through the wide-open patio door.

The door had been closed when she settled the boys down to play—closed and locked. But the lock was tricky, and sometimes just tugging on the handle would allow the latch to slip and the lock to slide free. She’d talked to her mother about getting it fixed, but apparently that detail had slipped Charlotte’s mind.

And now her children were gone.

She hurried back to the dining room to grab the baby monitor before racing out the back door.

“Quinn! Shane!” She ran across the deck, cursing when she stepped on a red block. They couldn’t have gone far. She’d only left them in the room a few minutes earlier. If anything had happened—

No, she couldn’t even complete the thought.

“Quinn! Shane!”

A flash of movement caught the corner of her eye, and she spun around, her heart sinking when she didn’t see the boys’ familiar faces but the shadowed jaw of a grown man standing on the grass.

“Are you looking for two little guys about yay—” he held a hand about three and a half feet off the ground “—high?”

“Did you see where they went?” she asked hopefully, desperately.

“They wandered into my backyard.” He gestured toward the adjoining property.

Georgia closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see that they’d filled with tears. “Oh, thank you, God.”

“Actually, my name’s Matt—Matt Garrett.”

She opened her eyes again and saw that he was smiling at her.

“And your kids are fine,” he promised her.

“Only until I get my hands on them,” she muttered.

His smile widened.

Now that the panic had subsided and her heart was beating more normally again, she took a moment to look at her new neighbor—and felt a little tug low in her belly.

Matt Garrett had thick dark hair that was sexily tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, a slightly crooked nose and a strong unshaven jaw. His shoulders were broad, his long, lean body well-muscled. And as his deep blue gaze connected with her own, she felt a subtle buzz in her veins that made her feel hot and tingly in a way that she hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

“One of the puppies escaped into your yard and caught their attention,” he explained.

“Puppies?”

“Come and check them out,” he invited.

She hooked the monitor on her belt and followed him, surreptitiously checking out his spectacular backside as she did so.

He’d moved in a few days earlier. She’d noticed the moving truck when she’d gone out to the porch to check the mail Wednesday afternoon—and then she’d noticed the tall, broad-shouldered man supervising the unloading of it.

He was in faded denim with an even more faded Orioles T-shirt stretched across his broad chest. Definitely a man’s man, she decided, and felt a flutter of something low in her belly. He lifted an arm in casual greeting and flashed a quick smile that actually made Georgia’s heart skip a beat before it began hammering against her ribs.

She raised her hand in response, waving her mail at him, then felt the flood of heat in her cheeks as she realized what she’d done. She wasn’t sure if it was sexual deprivation or sleep deprivation that was responsible for her distraction, but thankfully, he was too far away to note either her instinctive physical response or her embarrassment. But wow—the man obviously had some potent sex appeal if he could affect her from such a distance.

An appeal that, she knew now, was further magnified up close.

“This is Luke—and Jack,” Matt told her, gesturing to the two other men on his porch in turn. “My brothers.”

The former was even taller than her six-foot-tall neighbor, with the same brown hair but blue-green eyes; the latter was of similar height but with broader shoulders and slightly darker hair. All three were sinfully handsome.

“I’m Georgia,” she finally said, her heart rate mostly back to normal now that the twins were in her line of sight again. “And these pint-sized Houdinis are Quinn and Shane.”

“What’s a Houdini?” Quinn tore his attention away from the blanket-lined laundry basket for the first time since she’d stepped onto her neighbor’s porch.

“A little boy who is in very serious trouble for leaving the house without his mommy,” she admonished.

Her son’s gaze dropped to his feet, a telltale sign of guilt. “We just wanted to see the puppies.”

“Puppies,” Shane echoed, and looked up at her with the heartbreakingly sweet smile that never failed to remind her of his father.

She took a few steps closer, as inexorably drawn to the basket as her children had been. But still, she had to make sure they understood that leaving the house for any reason wasn’t acceptable.

“If you wanted to see the puppies, you should have told Mommy that you wanted to see the puppies,” she said.

“But you told us not to bug you ‘cuz you had work to do,” Quinn reminded her.

And it was exactly what she’d said when she set them up with their blocks.

“I also told you to never go anywhere—even outside into the backyard—without telling me first.”

But how could she blame them for being drawn away when even her heart had sighed at the first glimpse of those white, brown and black bodies wriggling around in the basket?

She looked at her neighbor again. “You have four puppies?”

“No.” Matt shook his head emphatically. “I don’t have any puppies—they’re all Luke’s.”

“Only until I can find good homes for them,” his brother said.

“How did you end up with them?” she wondered.

“I’m a vet,” he told her. “And when someone finds an abandoned animal on the side of the road, it usually ends up at my clinic. In this case, the abandoned animal was a very pregnant beagle that, two days later, gave birth to eight puppies.”

“Eight?” She cringed at the thought. As if carrying and birthing twins hadn’t been difficult enough.

“My receptionist is taking care of the other four.”

“They look kind of young to be away from their mother,” she noted.

“They are,” he agreed.

It was all he said, but it was enough for her to understand that the mother hadn’t survived the delivery—and to be grateful that his response in front of the twins wasn’t any more explicit than that.

“Nice puppy,” Shane said, gently patting the top of a tiny head.

“Can we keep one?” Quinn, always the more talkative and articulate twin, asked her.

She shook her head. As much as she hated to refuse her kids anything, she’d learned that there were times she had to say no. This was definitely one of those times. “I’m sorry, boys. A puppy is too much responsibility for us to take on right now.”

But she didn’t object when Matt lifted one of them out of the box and handed it to her. And she couldn’t resist bringing it closer to nuzzle the soft, warm body. And when the little pink tongue swiped her chin, her heart absolutely melted.

“He likes you, Mom,” Quinn told her.

“She,” Matt corrected. “That one’s a girl.”

Her son wrinkled his nose. “We don’t want a girl puppy.”

“We don’t want any puppy,” Georgia said again, trying to sound firm.

“We do want a puppy,” Shane insisted.

“‘Cept Dr. Luke says they can’t go anywhere for two more weeks,” Quinn informed her. “‘Cuz they’re too little to eat and hafta be fed by a bottle.”

Shane pouted for another minute, but the mention of eating prompted him to announce, “I’m hungry.”

“So why don’t we go home and I’ll make some little pizzas for lunch?” she suggested.

“With pepperonis?”

“With lots of pepperoni,” she promised.

But Quinn shook his head. “We don’t wanna go home. We wanna stay with the daddies.”

Georgia felt her cheeks burning as her gaze shifted from one man to the next.

Matt’s smile slipped, just a little; Luke kept his attention firmly focused on the animals; and Jack actually took a step backward.

“They’re at that age,” she felt compelled to explain, “where they think every adult male is a daddy. Especially since they lost their own father.”

“He’s not lost, he’s dead,” Quinn said matter-of-factly.

The announcement made Shane’s eyes fill with tears and his lower lip quiver. “I miss Daddy.”

Georgia slipped her arm around his shoulders.

Matt’s brows lifted. “You’re a widow?”

She nodded, because her throat had tightened and she wanted to ensure she was in control of her emotions before she spoke. “My husband passed away eleven months ago.” And although she’d accepted that Phillip was gone, she still missed him, and there were times—too many times—when she felt completely overwhelmed by the responsibilities of being a single parent. “That’s one of the reasons I moved in here with my mom.”

“Charlotte’s your mother?”

“You know her?”

“I met her the first time I came to look at the house,” he said. “But I haven’t seen her since I moved in.”

“She’s on her annual trip to Vegas with some friends,” Georgia told him.

“Leaving you on your own with two young boys,” he remarked sympathetically.

“And a baby,” she said, just as a soft coo sounded through the baby monitor she’d clipped on her belt.

“Pippa’s waking up.” Quinn jumped up, his desire to stay with the “daddies” not nearly as strong as his affection for his baby sister.

“Pippa,” Shane echoed.

Matt looked at Georgia, seeking clarification. “You have three kids?”

She nodded. “Four-year-old twins and a four-month-old daughter.”

Well, that explained the shadows under her gorgeous eyes, Matt decided. A pair of active preschoolers and a baby would wear any young mother out—especially one without a husband to help ease the burden. But even exhausted, she was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met.

She had a heart-shaped face with creamy skin, elegantly shaped lips, a delicate nose dusted with freckles, and the bluest eyes he’d ever seen. He’d caught his first glimpse of her on moving day. She’d been casually dressed in a sleeveless yellow blouse and a pair of faded denim jeans with her honey-blond hair in a ponytail, but even from a distance, he’d felt the tug of attraction.

Standing within two feet of her now, that tug was even stronger—much stronger than any self-preservation instincts that warned him against getting involved with a woman with three children who could take hold of his heart.

“You do have your hands full,” he said.

“Every day is a challenge,” she agreed. And then, to the boys, “Come on—we’ve got to go get your sister.”

“Can we bring Pippa back to see the puppies?” Quinn asked hopefully.

His mother shook her head. “In fact, you’re going to apologize to Mr. Garrett for intruding—”

“Matt,” he interjected, because it was friendlier than “Mister” and less daunting than “Doctor,” and because he definitely wanted to be on a first-name basis with his lovely neighbor. “And it wasn’t at all an intrusion. In fact, it was a pleasure to meet all of you.”

“Does that mean we can come back again?” Quinn asked.

“Anytime,” he said.

“And within two weeks, you’ll be calling someone to put up a fence between our properties,” Georgia warned.

He shook his head. “If I did that, they wouldn’t be able to come over to play in the tree house.”

“Mommy says we can’t go in the tree house,” Quinn admitted. “’Cuz it’s not ours.”

“But a tree house is made for little boys, and since I don’t have a little boy of my own—” Matt ignored the pang of loss and longing in his heart, deliberately keeping his tone light “—it’s going to need someone to visit it every once in a while, so it doesn’t get lonely.”

“We could visit,” Quinn immediately piped up, as Shane nodded his head with enthusiasm and Georgia rolled her eyes.

“That’s a great idea—so long as you check to make sure it’s okay with your mom first,” Matt told them.

“Can we, Mommy?”

“Pleeeease?”

He held his breath, almost as anxious for her response as the twins were. It shouldn’t matter. He didn’t even know this woman—but he knew that he wanted to know her, and he knew that it wouldn’t be a hardship to hang out with her kids, either.

“We’ll talk about it another time,” she said.

Quinn let out an exaggerated sigh. “That’s what she says when she means no.”

“It means ‘we’ll talk about it another time,’” Georgia reiterated firmly.

“I’m hungry,” Shane said again.

She tousled his hair. “Then we should go home to make those pizzas.”

“I’m not hungry,” Quinn said. “I wanna stay here.”

“If you’re not hungry, then Shane will get all the little pizzas.”

Georgia’s casual response earned a scowl from her son.

“And you can help us paint the deck,” Matt told Quinn.

The furrow in his brow deepened. “I guess I could eat some pizza.”

“I’d take the pizza over painting, too,” Luke told him.

“Unfortunately, we weren’t given that choice,” Jack said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“And since you weren’t,” Matt noted, “you can go get the painting supplies.”

Jack headed into the house while Luke picked up the basket full of puppies and moved it under the shade of a nearby tree so the curious canines couldn’t get in the way of their work.

Shane and Quinn stayed by Georgia’s side, but their eyes— filled with an almost desperate yearning—tracked the path of the puppies. And as he looked at the twins’ mother, Matt thought he understood just a little bit of what they were feeling.

In the more than three years that had passed since his divorce, Matt had wondered if he would ever feel anything more than a basic stirring of attraction for another woman. Ten minutes after meeting Georgia Reed, he could answer that question with a definitive yes.

“Thank you,” she said to him now.

“For what?”

“Being so patient and tolerant with the boys.”

“I like kids,” he said easily.

“Then you’ll like this neighborhood,” she told him.

He held her gaze as his lips curved. “I already do.”

Matt watched as Georgia walked away, with one of the boys’ hands clasped firmly in each of hers. Obviously she wasn’t willing to take any chances that they might disappear again—even on the short trek next door.

The first time he’d seen her, it hadn’t occurred to him that his gorgeous young neighbor might be a mother. Finding out that she had kids—and not just the adorable twin boys but a baby girl, too—had scrambled his mind further.

Now that he knew about those children, it seemed wrong to admire the sweet curve of her buttocks in snug-fitting denim. And it was definitely depraved to let his gaze linger on the sway of those feminine hips—or to think about the fullness of breasts hugged by the soft blue knit cardigan she wore.

She might have been a mother, but that reality did nothing to alter the fact that she was also an incredibly attractive woman. Something about the sexy single mother next door stirred feelings inside of him that hadn’t been stirred in a very long time. And while he was intrigued enough to want to explore those feelings, the kids were a definite complication.

Matt had dated a lot of women without letting them into his heart, but he had no defenses against the genuine friendliness and easy acceptance of children. Especially not when the loss of his son had left a gaping hole in his heart that ached to be filled.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Luke said, climbing back up onto the porch.

“You think so?”

His youngest brother nodded. “Yeah, she’s a pleasure to look at. But she’s got complication written all over her.”

“I was only thinking that it was nice to finally meet my neighbor.”

“You were thinking about asking her out,” Luke accused.

“Maybe I was,” he acknowledged.

Jack dropped an armload of painting tools at his feet. “Don’t do it.”

“Why not?” he asked, unwilling to be dissuaded.

“Slippery slope.”

“You mean like an invitation to dinner might lead to a second date?” Matt didn’t bother to disguise his sarcasm.

“And the next thing you know, you’re walking down the aisle,” Luke agreed.

“You went out with Becky McKenzie last week.” He felt compelled to point this out. “But I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

“That’s because when our little brother invites a woman to dinner, it’s just an invitation to dinner,” Jack explained.

“And maybe breakfast,” Luke interjected with a grin.

“But when you ask a woman out on a first date …” Jack paused, his brow furrowing. “Well, we don’t actually know what it means, because you haven’t been out on a real date with anyone since Lindsay walked out on you.”

“I’ve been out with plenty of women.”

Luke shook his head. “You’ve hooked up with plenty of women—but you haven’t actually been in a relationship with any of them.”

Now it was Matt’s turn to frown, because he realized that what his brother had said was true.

“And this one comes with quite a bit of baggage,” Jack noted.

“A three-piece set,” Luke elaborated.

“You’re reading way too much into this,” Matt told them.

“I’m glad you’re thinking about jumping back into the dating pool,” Jack said. “But I don’t get why you’d want to leap directly into the deep end when there are plenty of unencumbered beautiful women hanging out by the water.”

Matt didn’t know how to respond. He wasn’t sure he could explain—even to himself—what it was about Georgia Reed that appealed to him. Or maybe he was afraid to admit that he’d fallen for the two little boys who had snuck over to look at the puppies even before he’d realized that his pretty blonde neighbor was their mother.

Since the breakup of his marriage, he’d been cautious about getting involved again. Having his heart trampled by his ex-wife was bad enough, he wasn’t going to risk having it trampled by anyone else’s children.

Not again.

Or so he’d thought—until Quinn and Shane raced into his backyard.

“I’m not looking for anything more than a chance to get to know my neighbor a little better,” Matt insisted.

“So get to know her,” Luke agreed. “But don’t get involved with her. A relationship with someone who lives next door might seem convenient at first, but it can be a nightmare if things don’t work out.”

“Almost as bad as falling into bed with a woman who was supposed to be a friend,” Jack said.

The statement was made with such conviction Matt was sure there must be a story behind it. But since he didn’t want to discuss his personal life—or current lack thereof—he certainly wasn’t going to grill his brothers about their respective situations.

“If you’re lonely, you should think about getting a pet,” Luke suggested.

“Like a puppy?” Matt asked dryly.

His brother grinned. “Man’s best friend.”

“A dog is too much of a commitment.”

“Less than a woman and her three kids,” Jack pointed out.

Which was a valid consideration, so Matt only said, “Are we going to spend all day sitting around and talking like a bunch of old women or are we going to paint this damn deck?”

“Since you put it that way,” Luke said. “I guess we’re going to paint the damn deck.”




Chapter Two


After Pippa was changed and fed and the boys had helped make little pizzas for their lunch—using up all of the cheese and pepperoni and emptying the last jug of milk—Georgia knew a trip to the grocery store was in order. Since it was a nice day and Quinn and Shane seemed to have energy to burn, she decided they would walk rather than take the minivan.

The twins refused to ride in the double stroller anymore, insisting that they were too big to be pushed around like babies. Unfortunately, Georgia knew their determination and energy would last only so long as it took to reach their destination and not bring them home again, so she strapped Pippa into her carrier and dragged the wagon along beside her.

As she started down the driveway, she caught another glimpse of her hunky neighbor and his equally hunky brothers, and her pulse tripped again. The automatic physiological response surprised her. Since Phillip had died, all she’d felt was grief and exhaustion, so the tingles that skated through her veins whenever she set eyes on Matt Garrett weren’t just unexpected but unwelcome.

She did not want to be attracted to any man, much less one she might cross paths with any time she stepped outside. But while her brain was firm in its conviction, her body wasn’t nearly as certain.

Matt caught her eye and lifted a hand in greeting. She waved back, then quickly averted her gaze and continued on her way. It was bad enough that she’d caught herself staring—she didn’t need her neighbor to be aware of it, too.

Of course, he was probably accustomed to women gawking in his direction. A man like that would be.

Not that she had a lot of experience with men like the Garrett brothers, but she knew their type. In high school, they would have been the most popular boys: the star athletes who had dated only the prettiest girls, the boys that other boys wanted to be and that all of the girls wanted to be with.

But not Georgia. She’d been too smart to fall into the trap of thinking that those boys would even look twice in her direction. And they never had. Not until Aiden Grainger sat down beside her in senior English and asked if she’d help out with the yearbook. Even then, she’d been certain he was only interested in her ability to correctly place a comma, and no one was more surprised than she when he walked her home after school one day and kissed her.

And with the first touch of his lips, she’d fallen for him, wholly and completely. They’d dated through the rest of senior year and talked about backpacking around Europe after graduation. Aiden wanted to see the world and Georgia wanted to do whatever he wanted to do so long as she got to be with him.

This willingness to sacrifice her own hopes and dreams in favor of his terrified her. It reminded her of all the times her life had been upended because her mother decided that she had to follow her heart to another city or another state—usually in pursuit of another man.

When Georgia was thirteen and starting her third new school in three years, she’d promised herself that she would never do the same thing. And now, barely five years later, she was preparing to throw away a scholarship to Wellesley College in order to follow some guy around Europe? No, she couldn’t do it.

Aiden claimed that he was disappointed in her decision, but it turned out he wasn’t disappointed enough to change his plans. He’d said he wanted to travel with her, but in the end, he wanted Europe more than he wanted her. And maybe Georgia wanted Wellesley more than she wanted him, because she went off to college and didn’t look back.

But it had taken her a long time to get over Aiden, and a lot longer than that before she’d been willing to open up her heart again. And when she finally did, she’d lucked out with Phillip Reed.

Maybe theirs hadn’t been a grand passion, but for almost ten years, he’d made her feel loved and comfortable and secure. It was all she’d ever wanted or needed.

So how was it that, after less than ten minutes, Matt Garrett had made her wonder if there might be something more? How was it that he’d stirred a passion inside of her that she’d never even known existed? And what was she supposed to do with these feelings?

Unable to answer any of these unnerving questions, she pushed them aside and led the kids into the grocery store.

When Matt decided to move, his real estate agent had repeated the same mantra: location, location, location. And Tina Stilwell had promised that this neighborhood scored top marks in that regard. There were parks, recreation facilities, a grocery store and schools in the immediate vicinity, with more shopping, restaurants and the hospital—where he worked as an orthopedic surgeon—just a short drive away. She hadn’t mentioned the beautiful blonde next door, and Matt wasn’t sure how that information might have factored into his equation.

He hadn’t necessarily been looking for a house—and he certainly wasn’t looking for a new relationship. But he believed that real estate was a good investment and this house, in particular, had everything he wanted, not just with respect to location but amenities.

Jack had, logically, questioned why a single man needed four bedrooms and three bathrooms, forcing Matt to acknowledge that it was more space than he needed. He didn’t admit—even to himself—that he had any residual hope of utilizing those extra bedrooms someday. Because he had a new life now—a new home and a new beginning, and he wasn’t going to waste another minute on regrets or recriminations about the past. From this point on, he was going to look to the future.

But first, he had to cut the grass.

As he pushed the lawn mower across his yard, he kept casting surreptitious glances toward his neighbor’s house, eager for any sign of Georgia Reed. He hadn’t seen much of her in the past few days, and he knew she wasn’t home now because the minivan was missing from her driveway, but that didn’t stop him from checking every few minutes.

Thinking about what his brothers had said, he had to admit, albeit reluctantly, that it might not be a good idea to make a move on the woman next door. At least, not until he’d finished unpacking. If he moved too fast, she might think he was desperate. And he wasn’t—but he was lonely.

Since his divorce, he’d had a few brief affairs but nothing more meaningful than that. He missed being in a relationship. He missed the camaraderie, the companionship and the intimacy. Not just sex—but intimacy. After a few unsatisfactory one-night stands, he’d recognized that there was a distinct difference.

He missed falling asleep beside someone he genuinely wanted to wake up with the next morning. He missed long conversations across the dinner table, quiet nights on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and a movie, and rainy Sunday mornings snuggled up in bed. He missed being with someone, being part of a couple, having a partner by his side to celebrate not just all of the national holidays but all of the ordinary days in between.

But even more than he missed being a husband, he missed being a father. For almost three years, his little boy had been the center of his life. But Liam had been gone for more than three years now, and it was past time that Matt accepted that and moved on.

With a sigh, he considered that maybe he should let Luke talk him into taking one of those puppies. At least then he wouldn’t come home to an empty house at the end of a long day.

Glancing toward Georgia’s house again, he was willing to bet that his neighbor didn’t know what it meant to be lonely. With three kids making constant demands on her time, she probably didn’t have five minutes to herself in a day.

No doubt the twins alone could keep her hopping, and she had the needs of an infant to contend with as well. Although he had yet to meet the baby girl, he found himself wondering what she looked like, if she had the same dark hair and dark eyes as her brothers (which he assumed they’d inherited from their father) or blond hair and blue eyes like her mother.

It had to be difficult for Georgia, being widowed at such a young age. Not that he actually knew how old she was, but if she’d passed her thirtieth birthday, he didn’t think she’d done so very long ago. Which meant that she’d likely married when she was young and idealistic and head over heels in love—and that she was probably still grieving the loss of her husband. But even if she wasn’t, Matt didn’t imagine that she had any interest in—or energy for—a romance with her new neighbor.

A relationship with someone who lives next door might seem convenient … but it can be a nightmare if things don’t work out.

Luke was probably right. So Matt was going to take his brother’s advice and step back. Which didn’t mean he and Georgia couldn’t be friends. Surely his brothers wouldn’t have any objection to Matt being friends with the woman next door.

And it seemed obvious that the first step toward becoming friends was to be a good neighbor. He finished the last strip of his grass and pushed the mower over to Georgia’s lawn.

Having never owned anything with a yard before, he wasn’t sure how he would feel about the required maintenance and upkeep, but so far, he was enjoying the physical work. And mowing the lawn, being unable to hear anything but the rumble of the motor, was almost relaxing. Or it would have been if the hum and the vibration of the machine in his hands hadn’t started him thinking about different hums and vibrations that he hadn’t experienced in a very long time.

Yeah, it had definitely been too long since he’d been with a woman. Which brought him back to thinking about Georgia again. The neighbor who was, he reminded himself, strictly off-limits with respect to any kind of romance.

But while his mind might be willing to heed the warnings of his brothers, his hormones weren’t entirely convinced. Especially when Georgia’s van pulled into the driveway and his pulse actually skipped a beat.

As Georgia turned onto Larkspur Drive, she mentally reviewed her plans for the rest of the day. First and foremost was the long-neglected manuscript still on the dining room table. And when she finally got that manuscript finished, she would set Pippa up in her playpen on the deck while Georgia cut the grass. She still had mixed feelings about letting the boys play in the neighbor’s yard, but she thought she might indulge them today, trusting they would keep safely out of the way in the tree house.

She hadn’t seen much of Matt Garrett over the past few days, which made her realize how little she knew about him aside from his name. She didn’t know where he worked or what he did, whether he was married or engaged or otherwise involved. Not that she was interested, just … curious.

And when she turned into her driveway and saw him pushing a lawn mower over the last uncut strip of grass in front of her house, her curiosity was piqued even further.

She parked her minivan, then opened the back door to let the twins scamper out before she unlatched Pippa’s car seat. By the time she’d taken the baby into the house, he’d finished the lawn and was making his way toward her.

“Need a hand?” He gestured to the grocery bags in the back.

Georgia turned to respond, but the words dried up inside her mouth. His hair was tousled, his bronzed skin bore a light sheen of perspiration, and the gray T-shirt that molded to his broad shoulders and strong arms was damp with sweat. She’d always appreciated men who were more GQ than Outdoors-man, but she couldn’t deny that there was something very appealing about this man.

She swallowed. “No, I’ve—”

Ignoring her protest, he reached into the vehicle for the remaining two bags.

She blew out a breath. “Okay. Thanks.”

He grinned at her, and her knees actually went weak.

Something very appealing, indeed.

The first time she’d seen him up close, she’d been struck by his stunning good looks—and unnerved by her body’s instinctive response to his blatant masculinity. But she’d managed to convince herself that she’d overestimated his appeal, that he couldn’t possibly be as handsome or as sexy as she’d thought. Face-to-face with him now, she was forced to admit that, if anything, she’d underestimated his impact.

Those deep blue eyes were both warm and seductive, and his exquisitely shaped mouth seemed to promise all sorts of wicked pleasure. Not that she was interested in seduction or pleasure; she didn’t even have the energy for an innocent flirtation. But the pulsing of the blood in her veins proved that her body was only exhausted, not dead.

Matt followed her into the house and set the grocery bags on the counter.

“Can we come over to see the puppies?” Quinn asked.

Shane looked up at their neighbor, too, the plea in his gaze as earnest as his brother’s question.

“The puppies aren’t at my house today,” Matt told them.

Their hopeful smiles dimmed.

“Where are they?”

“With my brother, Luke, at his clinic.”

“He’s the doggy doctor,” Quinn reminded Shane.

“He’s a doctor for all kinds of animals,” Matt clarified.

“Maybe we could visit the puppies at the clinic,” Quinn suggested.

“Not today,” Georgia told him.

Shane pouted. “I want a puppy.”

“Well, you got a baby sister instead.”

“I’d rather have a puppy,” Quinn grumbled.

Matt turned to hide his smile as he washed his hands at the sink. “Those puppies were kind of cute,” he agreed. “But your sister is even cuter.”

“Do you think so?” Quinn’s tone was skeptical.

“Absolutely.” He smiled at the baby still securely strapped into her car seat but directed his next words to Georgia. “Can I take her out of there?”

She hesitated. “If you want, but she doesn’t have a lot of experience with strangers so she might …”

Her explanation trailed off when she saw that he already had Pippa out of her carrier.

Matt looked up. “She might what?”

“I was going to say ‘fuss,’” she admitted. “But obviously she is doing anything but.”

Instead, the little girl’s big blue eyes were intently focused on Matt’s face and her mouth was stretched into a wide, gummy grin that filled his heart so completely, his chest ached.

“She’s a charmer,” he said, tucking her carefully into the crook of his arm so that her head and neck were supported.

“She has her moments,” her mother agreed.

“Mostly she cries,” Quinn said.

“’Specially at night,” Shane added.

Georgia’s sigh confirmed it was true. “Colic.”

He’d had his own experience with a colicky baby, and he winced sympathetically. “Are you getting any sleep?” he asked.

“A lot less since my mom went away,” she admitted. “But I’m managing—if you disregard the fact that I’m falling behind on my work, housework and yard work.”

Shane tugged on the hem of her shirt. “I’m hungry.”

“I know, honey. I’ll get your lunch as soon as I get the groceries put away.”

“Gill cheez?”

She smiled. “You bet.”

“I want twisty pasta,” Quinn announced.

“You had pasta yesterday,” she reminded him. “We’re having grilled cheese today. But you can go put cartoons on TV while you’re waiting for your lunch, if you want.”

Apparently that was an acceptable compromise, as the boys both scampered off to the living room.

“But you’re not falling behind with your kids,” he said. “And that’s what really matters.”

The smile that curved her lips was both genuine and weary. “And thanks to you, I’m no longer as far behind with the yard work as I used to be.”

He shrugged. “I was cutting my grass anyway.”

She took a jug of 2% and a tub of yogurt out of the bag, found room for them in the fridge.

“You should try soy milk,” he told her.

She lifted a brow. “Because you have futures in soybeans?”

He grinned. “Because colic can be caused—or aggravated—by an intolerance to the proteins in the cows’ milk consumed by a nursing mother.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “How did you know I’m nursing?”

To his credit, he managed to keep his gaze on her face without his eyes even flickering in the direction of her very lush breasts. “No baby bottles in the drying rack or the fridge.”

“Very observant,” she noted. “And how do you know about the soy milk?”

“I read a lot.”

She’d finished putting away her groceries and reached into the drawer under the oven for a frying pan. “I used to read,” she told him. “Sometimes even for pleasure.”

He smiled. “You will again—someday.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” She retrieved the butter from the fridge. “But for now, we’re getting through one day at a time.”

“I’d say you’re doing better than that. You’ve got three great kids, Georgia.”

She started buttering slices of bread. “I wish you could be here to tell me that at 3:00 a.m.” Then she realized how her words might be misconstrued, and her cheeks filled with color.

He knew she wasn’t issuing an invitation, but he found himself wishing that he could find some way to help her out, to be the man she turned to when she needed someone, to be the one who could ease some of the fatigue from around her eyes and put a smile on her face. But those were very dangerous wishes. She wasn’t his wife, her kids weren’t his kids, and he had to stop wanting things that couldn’t be.

“I only meant that it would be nice to have someone around to reassure me in the early hours of morning when I feel like crying right along with Pippa,” she hastened to clarify.

“Sharing a burden makes it lighter,” he agreed easily, and scribbled his phone number down on the notepad on the counter. “And if you ever do need a hand—with anything and at any time—give me a call.”

“You’ve already done me a huge favor by cutting the grass.” Butter sizzled as she dropped the first sandwich into the hot pan.

“I didn’t know there was a limit on good deeds.”

She smiled again, and though he could see the fatigue in her eyes, the curving of her lips seemed to brighten the whole room. “I don’t mean to seem ungrateful—”

“I wouldn’t say ungrateful so much as resistant.”

“I lived in New York City for the past dozen years,” she told him. “I wasn’t even on a first-name basis with most of my neighbors, and the biggest favor any of them ever did for me was to hold the elevator.”

“Obviously moving to Pinehurst has been a big adjustment.”

“My mother told me it was a different world. She encouraged me to make conversation with people I don’t know, and she chided me for locking the doors of my van when it’s parked in the driveway.”

“You lock the doors of your vehicle in your own driveway?” he asked incredulously.

“When I first moved to New York, I lived in a third-floor apartment in Chelsea. Two weeks later, I wandered down to the little coffee shop on the corner without securing the dead bolt and by the time I got back with my latte, the place had been completely cleaned out.”

“I can see how an experience like that would make anyone wary,” he admitted. “But around here, neighbors look out for one another.”

“Says the man who just moved into the neighborhood,” she remarked dryly, turning the sandwich in the pan.

He grinned. “But I grew up in Pinehurst and I’ve lived here most of my life.”

“And probably quarterbacked the high school football team to a state championship in your senior year,” she guessed.

“Actually, I was a running back,” he told her.

“Yeah, ’cause that makes a difference.”

She removed one sandwich from the pan and dropped in another. Then she cut the first into four triangles, divided them between two plates and set them on the breakfast bar. She reached into the cupboard above the sink for two plastic cups, then maneuvered past him to the fridge for a jug of milk.

Though she moved easily in completing tasks she had no doubt performed countless times before, he was suddenly cognizant of the fact that he was just standing around.

“I’m in your way,” he noted, moving aside so that he was leaning against the far stool at the counter, the baby still tucked securely in the crook of his arm.

She shook her head as she half filled the cups with milk. “If you weren’t holding Pippa, she’d be screaming her head off, wanting her lunch, and I’d be juggling her and burning the sandwiches.”

As she called the twins to the kitchen, he glanced down at the baby who had, in fact, shoved her fist into her mouth and was gnawing intently on her knuckles.

“Well, as long as I’m being useful,” he said, his wry tone earning him a small smile from Georgia, and a wide drooly one from the baby in his arms.

The quick patter of footsteps confirmed that the boys had heard their mother’s call, and they eagerly climbed up onto the stools at the counter.

Georgia moved back to the stove and flipped the next sandwich out onto a plate. She sliced it in half, then surprised Matt by setting the plate on the counter in front of him.

“Milk?” she asked. “Or did you want something else? I’ve got iced tea or juice or soda.”

“Milk is fine,” he said. “But I didn’t expect you to feed me.”

“It’s just a grilled cheese.”

“Which is much more appetizing than the cold pizza in my fridge at home.”

She shrugged. “I figured a sandwich is a small price to pay for lawn maintenance.”

“You might get the hang of small-town living yet,” he told her.

“I’m trying.”

The fact that she was making an effort gave him confidence that their fledgling friendship could lead to something more.

And though Jack’s and Luke’s warnings still echoed in the back of his mind, they were easily drowned out by the pounding of his heart when Georgia smiled at him.




Chapter Three


Georgia waited until Matt’s car was gone from his driveway before she okayed the boys’ request to visit the neighbor’s tree house. Over the past couple of weeks, they’d enjoyed several adventures in the treetop, but only when their new neighbor wasn’t home.

It wasn’t that she was avoiding Matt. Not exactly. There was just something about the man that set off warning bells in her head. Or maybe it was tingles in her veins.

He was friendly and great with the kids, and if not for the way her body hummed whenever he was near, she might have thought that they could be friends. But the sizzle of awareness was too powerful for her to be comfortable in his presence, so Georgia decided that it would be best to maintain a safe distance from him at all times—or at least until her post-pregnancy hormone levels were back to normal.

She carted Pippa over to the neighbor’s backyard so that she could keep an eye on the boys while they played in the branches.

With the baby cooing happily in her playpen, Georgia settled in a folding lawn chair beside her. She smiled as she listened to the boys’ conversation—or rather Quinn’s animated chatter and Shane’s brief responses. A few minutes later, she saw Shane’s sneaker on the top step of the ladder.

“Be careful,” she said, instinctively rising from her chair in the exact moment that his foot slipped off the next step. She was halfway to the tree, her heart lodged in her throat, when his body plummeted toward the ground.

Emergencies were par for the course for any doctor, and especially for one who worked in a hospital E.R. But when an emergency surgery was squeezed into a very narrow window between two scheduled procedures, it made an already long day seem that much longer.

After a quick shower, Matt decided to head to the cafeteria for a much-needed hit of caffeine. But then he saw Brittney—a much more effective mood booster than any jolt of java. He slung an arm across her shoulders and pressed his lips to the top of her head.

She, predictably, rolled her eyes. “A little professionalism, Dr. Garrett.”

“My apologies, Miss Hampton,” he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic.

Brittney Hampton was his former sister-in-law’s only child and a student helping out in the E.R.—a co-op placement for which she’d applied without his knowledge, determined to secure the position on the basis of her interview and not because her uncle was a doctor on staff at the hospital. She was loving the experience, and he was pleased to see that she was so intently focused on the pursuit of her goals.

“Are you on a break?” he asked her.

She nodded. “Dr. Layton said I should take one now, while there’s a lull in the E.R.”

“A lull never lasts long,” Matt agreed. “If you’re heading to the cafeteria, can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

She made a face. “I hate coffee.”

He smiled. “Hot chocolate? Coke?”

“Vitamin water?”

“Sold.”

They settled at one of the tables by the window with their beverages.

“How was your morning?” Brittney asked him.

“In addition to the usual hip replacements, I put a plate and five screws in the ankle of a kid who took an awkward tumble on the soccer field.”

She winced. “Sounds painful.”

“Nah, we put him under so he didn’t feel a thing.”

She rolled her eyes. “I meant the tumble.”

“I imagine it was,” he agreed. “How was your morning?”

“I had a test on molecular genetics,” she said.

“And?” he prompted.

She shrugged. “I think I did okay.”

“So no worries that Northeastern is going to rescind their offer?” he teased.

“Not yet.”

“Is Brayden going to Northeastern, too?”

“Brayden is old news,” she told him.

“Oh. I’m … sorry?” Truthfully, he was relieved. On the few occasions that he’d met her boyfriend, he’d seemed like a nice enough kid but Matt had worried that the relationship with Brayden would distract Brittney from her studies and her ultimate goal of becoming a doctor like her uncle.

She smiled, at least a little. “It was a mutual decision.”

“Then your heart isn’t broken?”

“Not even bruised.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said.

“How’s your heart?” she countered.

His brows lifted. “Do they have you working in cardiology now?”

She smiled again, but her eyes—when they met his—showed her concern. “Mom told me that Aunt Lindsay is having another baby.”

“Yes, she is,” he acknowledged, pleased that his voice remained level, betraying none of the emotions that churned inside of him whenever he thought about the family that his ex-wife now had with her new husband. He didn’t resent the fact that Lindsay had everything he’d ever wanted, but he was painfully aware of how empty his own life was in contrast.

“You should get married again, too,” Brittney said.

“Don’t worry about me—I’m doing okay,” he said. And it was true. Because he suddenly realized that, since moving in next door to Georgia Reed and her family, his life didn’t seem quite so empty anymore.

“You need a family.”

“I haven’t given up on that possibility just yet.”

“Mom was telling Grandma that you need a woman who can appreciate you for all of your good qualities,” Brittney continued, “so I’ve been keeping my eyes open for—”

“I appreciate the thought, but the last thing I need is my sixteen-year-old ni—”

“Seventeen,” she interjected. “Remember? You came by for cake and ice cream for my birthday last month.”

“I remember,” he assured her. In fact, he hadn’t missed a single one of her birthdays in the past three years, and he was grateful that Brittney’s mother had continued to include him in family events after the divorce. Of course, it probably helped that he and Kelsey had been friends long before he married her sister. “But the last thing I need is my seventeen-year-old niece trying to set me up.”

“Well, I haven’t found any candidates yet,” she admitted. “Aside from my friend, Nina, who thinks you’re really hot. But even I know how inappropriate that would be.”

“And on that note,” Matt said, pushing back his chair, “I think I should check in on my patient.”

Brittney rose with him. “And I need to get back to the E.R.”

But before she turned away, she gave him a quick hug.

He was as pleased as he was surprised by the impulsive gesture of affection. But it was the words she spoke—”You’ll find someone, Uncle Matt”—that somehow shifted his thoughts to the beautiful widow living next door with her three children and made him wonder if maybe he already had.

Georgia didn’t have a lot of experience with her kids and emergency rooms—thank God for small favors—but she knew that “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” was an adage that applied in hospitals as much as anywhere else. And when she finally managed to maneuver her family through the sliding doors, with Pippa fussing, Shane crying (and trying to hold a bag of now partially thawed frozen peas against his wrist), and Quinn shouting “Don’t let him die!”, she didn’t even try to shush them. Or maybe she knew her efforts would be futile anyway.

After she gave the basic details of the incident and handed over her insurance information to the bored-looking clerk behind the desk, she was told—with a vague gesture toward the mostly empty seating area—to wait. But she didn’t even have a chance to direct Quinn to an empty chair when a dark-haired girl in teddy-bear scrubs appeared with a wheelchair for Shane. Though the tag on the lanyard around her neck identified her as “Brittney” and confirmed that she was a member of the hospital staff, she didn’t look to Georgia like she was old enough to be out of high school.

“I’m just going to take you for a walk down the hall to X-ray so that we can get some pictures of your arm,” Brittney explained to Shane.

His panicked gaze flew to his mother. Georgia brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead and tried not to let her own worry show.

“It’s okay if your mom and your brother and sister want to come along, too,” Brittney assured him. “Would that be better?”

Shane nodded.

Quinn shook his head vehemently. “I don’t want Shane to get a X-ray. I wanna go home.”

“We can’t go home until a doctor looks at your brother’s arm,” Georgia reminded her son, holding on to her fraying patience by a mere thread. “And the doctor can’t see what’s inside his arm without an X-ray.”

“You can make it better,” Quinn insisted. “Kiss it and make it better, Mommy.”

Georgia felt her throat tighten because her son trusted that it could be that simple, that she had the power to make it better because she’d always tried to do so. But they weren’t babies anymore and Shane’s injury wasn’t going to be healed by a brush of her lips and a Band-Aid.

Just like when their father had died, there was nothing she could do to ease their pain. Nothing she could do to give them back what they’d lost or fill the enormous void that had been left in all of their lives.

“Unfortunately, that’s not going to fix what’s wrong this time,” she told him.

“Does a X-ray … hurt?” Shane asked.

Brittney squatted down so that she was at eye level with the boy in the chair. “It might hurt a little when the tech positions your arm to take the picture,” she admitted. “But it’s the best way to figure out what to do next to make your arm stop hurting.”

After a brief hesitation, Shane nodded. “Okay.”

She smiled at him, then turned to Quinn and sized him up. “How old are you?”

“Four.” He held up the requisite number of fingers proudly.

“Hmm.” She paused, as if considering a matter of great importance. “I’m not sure if this will work.”

“If what will work?” he immediately demanded.

“Well, hospital policy states that no one under the age of five is allowed to drive a wheelchair without a special license,” she confided. “Do you have a license?”

Quinn shook his head.

Brittney rummaged in the pockets of her shirt and finally pulled out a small square of blue paper. “I have a temporary one here,” she told him, and Georgia saw that the words TEMPORARY WHEELCHAIR LICENSE were printed in bold letters across the top of the paper. “And I can give it to you if you think you can steer the chair slowly and carefully all the way down the corridor to X-ray.”

“I can do it,” he assured her.

She looked to Georgia, who nodded her permission.

“Okay, then. But first I have to put your name on here—”

“Quinn Reed.”

She uncapped a pen and carefully printed his name. “And the date?”

He looked to his mother for guidance on that one.

“May twenty-second,” she supplied.

Brittney filled in the date, then recapped the pen and handed the “license” to Quinn. He studied the paper reverently for a moment before tucking it carefully into the pocket of his jeans and reaching up to take the handles of the chair.

“Just one warning,” Brittney told him. “If you bump into anything or anybody, I’ll have to revoke that license.”

He nodded his understanding, and they set off toward the X-ray department.

Twenty minutes later, Brittney directed them into a vacant exam room with a promise that “Dr. Layton will be in shortly.”

But one minute turned into two, and then five turned into ten. And Pippa, already overdue for a feeding, made it clear—at the top of her lungs—that she would not be put off any longer.

Thankfully, Quinn seemed to have finally accepted that his brother wasn’t in any immediate danger of dying, and he crawled up onto the hospital cot and closed his eyes. Shane was still crying, though there was only an occasional sob to remind her of the tears that ran down his cheeks. So Georgia eased Pippa out of the carrier and settled in a hard plastic chair to nurse the baby.

She tried to drape a receiving blanket over her shoulder, to maintain some degree of modesty, but Pippa was having none of it. Every time she tried to cover herself, her daughter curled her little fingers around the edge of the fabric and tugged it away, until Georgia gave up. Besides, she didn’t imagine a nursing mother was either an unusual or scandalous sight in a hospital.

Of course, that was before Matt Garrett walked in.

In the few moments that Matt had taken to review the digital images before he tracked down the patient, he didn’t manage to figure out why the name Shane Reed seemed familiar. Then he walked into exam room four and saw one little boy on the bed and an almost mirror image in the wheelchair parked beside it, and he realized Shane Reed was one half of the adorable twin sons belonging to his gorgeous neighbor. And sure enough, Georgia was seated beside the bed, nursing her baby girl.

The baby’s tiny hand was curled into a fist and pressed against the creamy slope of her mother’s breast, and her big blue eyes were wide and intent while she suckled hungrily. It was one of the most beautiful sights Matt had ever witnessed. And incredibly arousing.

“Mommy.” It was Shane who saw him first, and he tapped his mother with his uninjured hand. “Mr. Matt’s here.”

Georgia’s gaze shifted, locked with his and her pale cheeks filled with color.

“You’re not Dr. Layton,” she said inanely.

“Things are a little chaotic in the E.R. right now, so Dr. Layton asked me to take a look at Shane’s X-ray.”

Quinn sat up. “Are you a doctor, too?”

Matt nodded.

“You don’t look like a doctor,” he said accusingly.

“Quinn,” his mother admonished.

But Matt was intrigued. “How does a doctor look?”

The little boy studied him for a minute. “Older,” he decided. “With gray hair and glasses.”

“I’m older than you,” Matt pointed out.

“You still don’t look like a doctor.”

“Actually, I’m an orthopedist,” he explained.

“See?” Quinn said triumphantly to his mother.

“An orthopedist is a doctor,” she told him.

The boy looked to Matt for confirmation.

He nodded. “An orthopedist is a doctor who specializes in fixing broken bones.”

“Is Shane—” Quinn swallowed “—broken?”

He managed to hold back a smile. “No, your brother isn’t broken, but a bone in his arm is.”

“I falled out of your tree house,” Shane said quietly.

Matt winced. “All the way from the top?”

The little boy shook his head. “I missed a step on the ladder.”

“And reached out with his arms to break his fall,” Georgia finished.

He noted that she’d shifted Pippa to nurse from her other breast, and he quickly refocused his gaze on his patient. “And broke your arm, too,” Matt told Shane. “Do you want to see the picture of your arm that shows the break?”

Shane sniffled, nodded.

Matt sat down in front of a laptop on the counter and tapped a few keys.

“This here is your radius—” he pointed with the tip of a pencil to the picture on the screen “—and this is your ulna.”

Though the occasional tear slid down the boy’s cheeks, his gaze tracked the movement of the pencil and he nodded his understanding.

“Do you see anything different about the two bones?”

“I do,” Quinn immediately replied, as Shane nodded again.

“Well, since it’s Shane’s arm, I think we should let Shane tell us what’s different,” Matt said.

Quinn pouted but remained silent.

“What do you see, Shane?”

“The ra-di—” he faltered.

“Radius?” Matt prompted.

“It has a line in it.”

“That line is the break, called a distal radius fracture.”

“It hurts,” Shane said, in a soft voice that was somehow both wounded and brave.

“I know it does,” Matt agreed.

“Can you fix it?” Quinn asked. “You said you can fix broken bones.”

He nodded. “Yes, I can, and I will.”

Georgia tried to concentrate on what Matt was saying, but her mind was still reeling from the realization that her new neighbor wasn’t just gorgeous and charming but a doctor, too. She couldn’t have said why the information surprised her so much or what she’d expected.

While he was occupied with Shane, she took a closer look at him, her gaze skimming from his neatly combed hair to the polished loafers on his feet. This man certainly didn’t bear any resemblance to the sexy gardener who had tended to her overgrown yard. If she’d taken a guess as to his occupation that day, she probably would have said that he was employed in some kind of physically demanding field, like construction work or firefighting. She certainly wouldn’t have guessed that he was an M.D.

Maybe the Mercedes in his driveway should have been her first clue, though she’d never met a doctor who hadn’t managed to reveal his profession within the first five minutes of an introduction. And she’d been living next door to the man for more than three weeks without him giving even a hint of his occupation. But as she watched Dr. Garrett now, she could see that he was completely in his element here.

As he explained the process of casting a broken bone, he used simple words that the boys could understand. Despite his careful explanation, though, Quinn remained wary.

“Is Shane going to die?” he asked, obviously terrified about his brother’s potential fate.

Though Georgia instinctively flinched at the question, the doctor didn’t even bat an eye.

“Not from a broken arm,” he assured him.

Shane looked up, his dark eyes somber. “Do you promise?”

She felt her own eyes fill with tears when she realized that the question wasn’t directed to her but to Matt. Which made perfect sense, since he was the doctor. But it was the first time since Phillip had died that either of the twins had sought reassurance from anyone but their mother, and emotionally, it cut her to the quick.

“I absolutely promise,” he said.

And Shane’s hesitant nod confirmed that he’d accepted the man’s word.

“Can I ask you a question now?” Matt asked.

Shane nodded again.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Then we’ll put a blue cast on your arm,” the doctor announced, and earned a small smile from his patient.

He left the room for a few minutes, then came back with Brittney and an older woman. The gray-haired nurse helped lift and maneuver Shane’s arm while the doctor applied the cast and Brittney looked on, observing and providing a running commentary of the process to entertain the twins. When it was done, Matt tied a sling over Shane’s shoulder and explained that it would help keep the arm comfortable and in place.

“Do you use your right hand or your left hand when you eat?” Brittney asked Shane.

“This one,” he said, lifting his uninjured hand.

“Do you think you could handle an ice cream sundae?”

Shane nodded shyly, then looked to his mother for permission.

“They would love ice cream,” she admitted to Brittney, reaching for her purse.

The girl waved a hand. “It’s on Dr. Garrett—part of the service.”

Matt passed her a twenty-dollar bill without protest.

“Does my wheelchair driver still have his license?”

Quinn pulled the paper out of his pocket.

“Then let’s go get ice cream.”

“Thanks, Britt,” said Matt with a smile.

Georgia had mixed feelings as she watched her boys head out with the young nurse. They were growing up so fast, but they would always be her babies as much as the little one still in her arms.

“She’s been wonderful,” she said to Matt now. “I don’t know that I would have survived this ordeal without screaming if she hadn’t been able to engage the boys.”

“It can’t be easy, juggling three kids on your own on even a normal day.”

“What is a normal day?”

He smiled at that. “I’m not sure I would know, but I’m sure it’s not strapping three kids into car seats for a trip to the hospital.”

“Mrs. Dunford did offer to look after Pippa and Quinn so I didn’t have to bring them along but—” She knew there was no reason to feel embarrassed talking to a doctor about a perfectly natural biological function that women had been performing since the beginning of time, but that knowledge didn’t prevent a warm flush of color from rising in her cheeks again. “But the baby was almost due for a feeding and Quinn was absolutely terrified at the thought of his brother going to the hospital.”

“He has a phobia about hospitals?” he asked.

“They both do,” she admitted.

“Any particular reason?”

She nodded. “Because their father—my husband—was in the hospital when he died.”

“That would do it,” he agreed.

“It was a heart attack,” she explained. “He recognized the symptoms and called 9-1-1, but the damage was too severe. All the boys know is that he was alive when they put him in the ambulance and dead at the hospital.”

“Now they think anyone who goes to the hospital is going to die,” he guessed.

She nodded again. “I’ve tried to explain that it wasn’t the doctor’s fault—that it wasn’t anybody’s fault—but they don’t seem to believe me.”

“Which one is Mrs. Dunford?”

She smiled. “Across the street. Always outside at 7:00 a.m. in her housecoat, watering her flowers. She has a magic touch with geraniums.”

“And gingersnap cookies,” he said.

“She baked you cookies?”

“She wanted to welcome me to the neighborhood.”

“More likely she wanted to set you up with her granddaughter.”

“Then she should have gone for chocolate chip—they’re my absolute favorite.”

“I’ll be sure to let her know.”

He shook his head. “I’d prefer to get my own dates—although even Brittney thinks I need some help in that regard.”

“Brittney—the nurse who looks like she’s fifteen?”

“She’s seventeen.”

“Then she’s not a nurse?”

He laughed. “More like pre-pre-med. Actually, Brittney’s a high school co-op student who also happens to be my niece.”

“She’s been fabulous with the boys.”

“She plans to specialize in pediatric medicine.”

“That’s quite an ambition.”

“She’s very determined. And she’s one of the most sought-after babysitters in town.”

“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever find myself in need of one,” she promised, certain Brittney would have graduated from medical school before that would ever happen.

So she was more than a little surprised when Matt said, “How about Friday night so I can take you out to dinner?”




Chapter Four


For a minute, she just stared at Matt as if he’d spoken in a foreign language. And with every second that ticked away during that interminable minute, he wondered if he should rescind his impulsive invitation.

He wasn’t usually the impulsive type, a truth that was proven by the fact that he’d kept the condo he’d lived in with his wife and child for three years after they’d gone rather than take a hit on the downturned real estate market. Or maybe he just hadn’t been ready to move on until now.

But he was ready now. And if Georgia agreed to go out with him—even just once for dinner—it would hopefully convince his niece to put her matchmaking efforts on hold.

“Are you asking me out … on a date?”

Except that her question, along with the skepticism in her voice, made him question whether he truly was capable of getting his own dates.

It can be a nightmare if things don’t turn out.

He ignored the echo of Luke’s words in the back of his mind. While he trusted that his brother had his best interests at heart and believed that there was some legitimacy to his warning, Matt couldn’t deny the instinct that was urging him to get to know Georgia a whole lot better.

“Let’s not put a label on it,” he said instead.

“So it’s not a date?”

“It isn’t anything until you say yes.”

She considered for another few seconds, then shook her head. “I can’t.”

“You can’t have dinner with a friend? A neighbor?”

“I can’t leave my kids with a stranger—even if she is one of the most sought-after babysitters in town.”

But he thought that, for just a minute, she’d been tempted.

“Quinn and Shane seem to like her just fine,” he pointed out.

“She’s been great with the twins,” she said again. “But Pippa is another story. There are certain things that no one but Mommy can do for her.”

Okay, he didn’t need to be hit over the head. At least, not more than once. And if his gaze automatically dropped to her breasts, well, he made a valiant effort to yank it away again.

Not so quickly that she didn’t notice—as was attested by the color flooding her cheeks.

“Okay, then, how about dinner at my place so you’re not too far away if you’re needed?”

“Look, I appreciate the invitation, but I’m doing okay. You don’t have to feel sorry for me because I’m on my own with three kids.”

“Is that what you think—that I feel sorry for you?”

“I don’t know what to think,” she admitted. “But it’s the only explanation I can imagine that makes any sense.”

“Maybe it did occur to me that a few hours away from your responsibilities might be appreciated,” Matt allowed. “But I don’t feel sorry for you. In fact, I think you’re lucky to have three beautiful children, and that they’re lucky to have a mother so obviously devoted to them.” Because he knew from firsthand experience that there was nothing quite like the bond between a parent and child—and that nothing else could fill the void when that bond was broken.

“I am lucky,” she said softly. “Although I don’t always focus on how very lucky—and I don’t always know how to respond to unexpected kindness.”

“You could respond by saying you’ll come to my place for dinner on Friday.”

She shook her head, but she was smiling. “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

“That’s not the response I was looking for,” he reminded her.

“I’ll come for dinner on Friday,” she finally agreed. “If Brittney is available—and willing—to watch the kids.”

“Is seven o’clock good?”

“Shouldn’t you check with the babysitter first?”

“Brittney will make herself available,” he assured her.

“Then seven o’clock should be fine,” Georgia said.

“Any food allergies or aversions?”

She shook her head.

“Favorite food?”

She smiled. “Anything I don’t have to cook.”

It was a long night for Georgia.

She gave Shane some children’s acetaminophen to take the edge off of the pain, but she could do nothing to combat his frustration. He was usually a tummy sleeper, and he didn’t like having to stay on his back with his injured arm elevated on a pillow, even if it was what “Dr. Matt” had recommended.

And she didn’t have any better luck settling Quinn. While he’d been happy enough to wheel his brother around the hospital and indulge in ice cream, neither activity had succeeded in completely alleviating his worry about his twin.

But aside from checking on Shane and reassuring Quinn and nursing and pacing with Pippa, what really kept Georgia awake through the night was second-guessing her agreement to have dinner with her sexy new neighbor.

He was a genuinely nice man who was wonderful with her kids, and if those were the only factors to consider, Georgia wouldn’t have hesitated to accept his invitation. But Matt Garrett made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a very long time—if ever before—and the stirring of those unexpected feelings made her wary.

Her mother had always said that falling in love was kind of like jumping into a pool without testing the water. And there was no doubt that Charlotte had always enjoyed that crazy sense of plunging into the unknown. Georgia had never been the type to leap without looking—she liked to gauge the temperature first and ease in slowly.

And that was the perfect analogy for her relationship with Phillip. She’d loved her husband, but their affection had grown over time along with their relationship. They’d started out as friends who’d shared common interests and values—and a mutual distrust of romance. Phillip had been engaged previously, but that relationship had ended when he found his fiancée in bed with his cousin. Georgia had, as a result of her mother’s numerous relationships more so than her own experience, mostly steered clear of any romantic entanglements.

But Phillip had been as persistent as he was charming, and one date had led to another until, before Georgia knew what was happening, they were exchanging vows. They’d had a good relationship, a solid marriage. They’d been compatible enough, even if the earth hadn’t trembled when they made love, and she had sincerely loved him.

When they’d decided to get married, she’d had no reservations. It wasn’t that she couldn’t live without him so much as she didn’t want to—he was her best friend, the one person she knew she could always rely on, and the one person she always felt comfortable with.

She didn’t feel the least bit comfortable around Matt Garrett.

She was thirty-one years old and a mother of three children, and she didn’t have the first clue about what to do with these feelings that he stirred inside of her. She wished, for just a minute, that Charlotte was here so that she could talk to her about this inexplicable attraction. Four marriages—and four divorces—had given her mother a lot of experience with love—and heartbreak.

Except that Georgia didn’t need to talk to Charlotte to know what her advice would be. “Go for it. Have fun—and make sure you have orgasms. Life’s too short to fake it.”

She smiled, almost hearing the echo of her mother’s voice in her mind even as she chided herself for jumping the gun. After all, just because the man had invited her over for dinner didn’t mean he was looking for anything more than that. Just because her heart pounded wildly inside her chest whenever he was near didn’t guarantee that he felt the same attraction.

“I’ll be glad when your Gramma’s home tomorrow,” she said to her daughter. Not that she expected her mother would be able to put the situation in perspective for her, but she would help out with the kids so Georgia could get some sleep. Because after more than a week of serious sleep deprivation capped off by an unexpected trip to the emergency room, she was starting to feel more than a little frazzled. But she was confident she could handle things on her own for twenty-four more hours.

The first few weeks after Pippa’s birth had been pure bliss. The baby had slept and nursed and cried very rarely, and Georgia had been completely enthralled with her. And then, around four weeks, Pippa had started to get fussy. She still slept and nursed frequently, but the sleeping was for shorter periods of time, the nursing more frequent, and the crying much louder and longer.

After a thorough checkup, Dr. Turcotte had announced that there was absolutely nothing wrong with her aside from “a touch of colic.” He’d been sympathetic but unable to help. And though Charlotte had offered to cancel her annual trip with “the girls,” Georgia couldn’t imagine letting her do it. Because if she’d accepted that offer, it would be like admitting that she couldn’t handle her own baby. Besides, Charlotte had already done so much for her daughter and her grandchildren.

When everything had started to fall apart in Georgia’s life, her mother hadn’t hesitated to invite her to come home. Not that Pinehurst, New York, had ever actually been her home. In fact, Charlotte had only settled in the picturesque upstate town about half a dozen years earlier, long after Georgia was living and working in New York City. But Georgia hadn’t needed a familiar environment so much as she’d needed her mother. As she needed her now.

She was passing the kitchen when the phone rang, and she grabbed for the receiver automatically, forgetting for a moment that she didn’t need to worry about the noise waking the baby because Pippa was already awake and snuggled happily—at least for the moment—in her carrier.

Georgia recognized her mother’s voice immediately. “Hey, Mom, I was just talking to Pippa about you.”

“How is my beautiful grandbaby girl?” Charlotte asked.

She always sounded upbeat, but Georgia thought she sounded even more so today. Not that it took much to make her mother happy—something as simple as winning a couple of hands at the blackjack table or scoring front-row seats to see Wayne Newton could be responsible for her joyful mood.

“She seems content enough right now,” Georgia said, not wanting to let her mother know how difficult the last few days had been.

“Oh, I miss my grandbabies so much,” Charlotte said. “Have you been givin’ them all big hugs and kisses from me every day?”

“I have,” she assured her mother. “But they’re looking forward to getting them directly from you when you come home tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s actually why I was callin’,” Charlotte began, and Georgia felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her belly. “There’s been a little bit of a change in my plans.”

“What kind of change?” She tried to keep her voice light and borrow the brave face her mother always wore.

“I met someone.” The excitement fairly bubbled over in Charlotte’s voice again. “Oh, honey, I didn’t think I would ever fall in love again. I certainly didn’t expect it. I mean, I’ve already been so lucky in love—”

Lucky? Only Charlotte Warring-Eckland-Tuff-Masterton-Kendrick would think that four failed marriages somehow added up to lucky. On the other hand, her effervescent personality and unfailing optimism were no doubt two of the qualities that continued to draw men to her, in addition to the fact that she looked at least a decade younger than her fifty-four years.

Okay, Georgia thought, trying to be rational about this. Her mother had met someone. She certainly didn’t have any philosophical objection to Charlotte having a romantic relationship—not really. But she did object to her mother, or anyone for that matter, believing that she’d fallen in love with a man she couldn’t have known for more than a handful of days.

“—but the minute our eyes met across the baccarat table,” Charlotte continued, “I felt a jolt as if I’d just stuck my finger in a socket.”

Georgia had to smile at that. “I’m glad you’re having a good time—”

“The best time,” Charlotte interjected. “And after the ceremony last night, Trigger got us upgraded to the honeymoon suite, and I swear, I drank so much champagne my head is still spinnin’.”

Right now, Georgia’s head was spinning, too. Ceremony? Honeymoon suite? Trigger?

“Mom,” she said, attempting to maintain a rational tone in the hope that it would calm the panic rising inside her. “Are you telling me that you married this guy?”

“Honey, when love comes knockin’ on the door, you don’t just open up, you grab hold with both hands and drag it inside.”

Georgia banged her forehead softly against the wall.

“So yes,” Charlotte finally answered her question. “I am now, officially, Mrs. Trigger Branston.”

“His name is really Trigger?”

“Oh, his real name’s Henry,” she told her daughter. “But they call him Trigger ‘cause he’s so quick on the draw.”

“Quick on the draw?” she echoed, fingers crossed that this whole conversation was some kind of bizarre waking dream induced by her own mental and physical exhaustion.

“With his gun,” Charlotte clarified. “He’s a bona fide member of the Cowboy Fast Draw Association and World Fast Draw Association and he’s won all kinds of contests.”





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