Page 2 of Tempted By the Handsome Doctor (Curvy Wives of Cedar Falls #3)

I've been awake for thirty-six hours straight. That's the only explanation for why I'm hallucinating Maya Sullivan sitting in my hospital cafeteria, looking like she wants to murder me with her teacup.

Except she's not a hallucination. She's real, she's here, and she just said we need to talk. Now.

"Maya?" I repeat stupidly, as if saying her name again might make her disappear.

She doesn't. Instead, she stands, smoothing down her skirt with a deliberate precision that suggests she's trying very hard to keep it together.

Her dark eyes lock onto mine with laser focus.

I know that look. It's the same one I saw a month ago across a crowded bar, except now there's no warmth behind it.

Just determination and something else. Fury? Fear?

"What are you doing here?" The question comes out harsher than I intended. Sleep deprivation has taken away all my social niceties.

"What am I doing here?" She lets out a hollow laugh. "That's rich, coming from you. You disappeared. Without a word."

I drag a hand through my hair, aware of how disheveled I must look. "I know. I'm sorry about that. It was a crazy morning, and then—"

"Save it," she cuts me off. "I don't care about your excuses."

The cafeteria suddenly feels very small and very public. Megan from Pediatrics is watching us from two tables over. Dr. Reeves, the Chief of Surgery, just walked in and is eyeing us as he heads to the coffee station.

"Look, can we talk somewhere private?" I nod toward the hallway. "My shift just ended."

Maya hesitates, clutching her teacup like it's the only thing keeping her upright. Then she nods once, a sharp, decisive movement. "Fine."

I lead her down the corridor toward the small doctors' lounge, hoping to God it's empty. My mind races as we walk in silence. It's been a month since that night—a night I've replayed more times than I care to admit. A night I'd deliberately tried to forget by burying myself in work.

The lounge is mercifully vacant. I hold the door for her, and she brushes past me, the faint scent of vanilla and old books hitting me with unexpected force. The same scent that clung to my sheets. To my skin.

I shake the thought away.

"Have a seat." I gesture to the worn couch against the wall.

She remains standing, arms crossed over her chest. "I'll stand."

"Suit yourself." I set my coffee down and mirror her stance. "So, what's this about?"

Maya stares at me for a long moment. Her eyes, usually so warm and expressive behind those wire-rimmed glasses, are unreadable now. Then she reaches into her purse and pulls out something small, placing it on the table between us.

It takes my exhausted brain a moment to process what I'm looking at.

A pregnancy test. With two pink lines.

My world narrows to those two lines, and suddenly I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't move.

"I'm pregnant," Maya says, her voice steady despite the slight tremor in her hands. "And before you ask—yes, it's yours. Yes, I'm sure."

The room tilts slightly. I grab the edge of the table to steady myself. "That's... that's not possible."

"Evidently it is." Her laugh is brittle. "Believe me, I've spent the morning trying to convince myself of the same thing."

I sink into the nearest chair, my legs suddenly unable to support my weight. "I don't understand. We were careful."

"Condoms aren't foolproof. They break, they slip. Haven't you had this conversation with patients before, Doctor?"

The way she says "doctor" makes it sound like an insult.

"Of course I have, but—" I stop, forcing myself to take a breath. "I'm sorry. This is a shock."

"You think it's a shock for you?" Maya's composure cracks for just a moment, her voice rising. "I didn't even know if you were real! If Daniel Morrison was your actual name, or if you worked here like you said you did!"

Guilt slams into me. "I didn't lie about who I am."

"No, you just left without a word after—" She cuts herself off, cheeks flushing. "After what happened between us."

The memory of that night flickers between us. Her skin under my hands. Her soft moans in my ear. The way she'd curled against me afterward, trusting and warm.

Until my pager went off at 5 AM. Until the multi-car pileup on Route 16 sent the ER into chaos and pulled me away before she woke.

"I got called in for an emergency," I explain, knowing how pathetic it sounds. "A major accident. Multiple traumas."

"And they don't have phones at this hospital?" She arches an eyebrow. "You couldn't have left a note? Sent a text?"

"I meant to call you later, but the day got away from me, and then—" I stop myself.

There's no excuse that doesn't make me sound like an ass.

Because the truth is, after that initial crazy shift, I could have called.

I should have called. But I didn't, because calling meant acknowledging what happened between us was more than just a one-night stand.

That the connection I felt wasn't just physical. And that terrified me.

Maya waits for me to finish, but when I don't, she just shakes her head. "It doesn't matter now. What matters is this." She gestures to the pregnancy test between us.

"Are you... I mean, have you decided what you want to do?" I ask carefully.

Her eyes flash. "I don't know yet. I just found out this morning. I haven't had time to process any of this."

"Of course. I'm sorry." I scrub a hand over my face, stubble rough against my palm. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you. Financially, I mean. And... otherwise, if you want."

"How generous," she says flatly.

I wince. "That came out wrong. I just meant—"

"I know what you meant." Maya takes a deep breath, adjusting her glasses. "Look, I didn't come here to trap you or make demands. I came because you deserved to know, and because I needed to confirm you weren't some pathological liar who gave me a fake name."

"I'm not," I say softly. "I'm just a regular idiot who didn't call when he should have."

The corner of her mouth twitches, almost a smile, before she suppresses it.

She looks at me for a long moment, and I force myself to meet her gaze.

She's beautiful, even now—especially now—with her dark eyes full of fire and her chin lifted in defiance.

She's nothing like the women I usually go for.

Nothing like the casual, no-strings-attached relationships I've had over the years.

Maybe that's why I ran.

"I need time to think," she says finally, gathering her purse. "To figure out what I want to do."

"Of course." I stand, reaching into my pocket for my phone. "Can I at least get your number again? So we can... talk. When you're ready."

She hesitates, then recites her number as I type it in.

"I'll call you," I promise, and this time I mean it. "Whenever you want to talk. Day or night."

Maya nods, avoiding my eyes. "I have to go. My lunch break is almost over."

"You work at the library, right?" I remember her telling me that night, her face animated as she described her favorite sections, the reading programs she'd started.

She looks surprised that I remember. "Yes. Cedar Falls Public."

"I'll call you," I repeat, because I need her to believe me. "And Maya?"

She pauses at the door, looking back at me over her shoulder.

"I really am sorry. About not calling."

Something flickers across her face—not forgiveness, but maybe the seed of it. "Goodbye, Daniel."

And then she's gone, leaving me alone with a cold cup of coffee and the knowledge that my life has just irrevocably changed.

I collapse back into the chair, running both hands through my hair. A baby. Maya is pregnant with my baby. The thought is so enormous, so life-altering, that my mind keeps sliding away from it, unable to fully grasp its weight.

My pager beeps, jolting me out of my stupor. Another emergency. Because of course the universe won't even give me five minutes to process the fact that I'm going to be a father.

Father. The word sits heavy in my chest, dredging up memories I've spent years trying to suppress. My own father walking out the door when I was ten, duffel bag in hand, promising to call soon. The calls that never came. The birthdays that passed without a word.

I stand up, shoving the thoughts away. I can't think about this now. I have a job to do, lives to save, and a reputation to uphold. Later, when I'm home, when I've slept, I'll figure out what to do about Maya and the baby.

Our baby.

I grab my cold coffee and head back into the fray, but Maya's face stays with me, hovering at the edges of my consciousness like a ghost I can't quite shake.