Caroline Anderson - Tempted by Dr Daisy

CAROLINE ANDERSONhas the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, run her own soft-furnishing business, and now she’s settled on writing. She says, ‘I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realised it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband John and I have two beautiful and talented daughters, Sarah and Hannah, umpteen pets, and several acres of Suffolk that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!’ Caroline also writes for Mills & Boon ®Cherish ™.

Tempted by Dr Daisy

Caroline Anderson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Cover

About the Author About the Author CAROLINE ANDERSON has the mind of a butterfly. She’s been a nurse, a secretary, a teacher, run her own soft-furnishing business, and now she’s settled on writing. She says, ‘I was looking for that elusive something. I finally realised it was variety, and now I have it in abundance. Every book brings new horizons and new friends, and in between books I have learned to be a juggler. My teacher husband John and I have two beautiful and talented daughters, Sarah and Hannah, umpteen pets, and several acres of Suffolk that nature tries to reclaim every time we turn our backs!’ Caroline also writes for Mills & Boon ® Cherish ™ .

Title Page Tempted by Dr Daisy Caroline Anderson www.millsandboon.co.uk

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Copyright

Praise for Caroline Anderson:

‘From one of category romance’s most accomplished

voices comes a beautifully told, intensely emotional

and wonderfully uplifting tale of second chances,

new beginnings, hope, triumph and everlasting love.

Caroline Anderson’s WEDDING OF THE YEAR is an

engrossing, enthralling and highly enjoyable tale

that will move you to tears and keep you riveted

from the first page until the very last sentence.

Kate and Nick’s story is sure to satisfy all those readers

who have been waiting with bated breath for their

story. Moving, heartbreaking and absolutely fantastic, with

WEDDING OF THE YEAR Caroline Anderson

is at her mesmerising best!’

— www.cataromance.com on ST PIRAN’S: WEDDING OF THE YEAR

Dear Reader,

When I was asked to write a duet of two closely linked books, I thought ‘How close can people be?’ And the answer? Identical twins who are both gorgeous guys and amazing doctors—my LEGENDARY WALKER DOCTORS. But they’re not just normal twins, but twins who’d shared the same amniotic sac, who’d been in touch with each other from the first moment and who now, 34 years later, were still very close emotionally and in their working lives. You really can’t get closer than that—and for both Ben and Matt, their journeys have been paved with tragedy and pain.

But then Ben moves to Yoxburgh, where Daisy and Amy, dear friends and colleagues, are waiting in the wings.

Ben has a daughter, little Florence, who is the centre of his world—until he meets Daisy. He just has to find a way for both of them to trust again, so together they can give Florence the family they all long for in TEMPTED BY DR DAISY.

For Matt and Amy, the past is so painful they can’t bear to go there again, but when Ben and Daisy fall in love, her best friend and his twin are brought together again and circumstances conspire to force them to face their past and deal with the loss that drove them apart in THE FIANCÉE HE CAN’T FORGET.

Writing their stories was heart-wrenching but wonderful, and I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed coaxing them along each step of the way.

With love,

Caroline

SHE could hear water running.

Her new neighbour, whoever he might be, was up and about already. Well, she hoped he’d slept better than she had, she thought grumpily. He’d kept her awake until midnight moving things, and the cat deciding she was hungry at five thirty really didn’t help.

To be fair, he hadn’t been that noisy, but she wasn’t feeling fair after another hen weekend, and another of her friends settling down to matrimonial bliss. That left her and Amy, but she couldn’t see Amy letting anyone close, and as for her—well, where were all the decent single men without a ton of emotional baggage? Not in Yoxburgh, that was for sure, and even if they were, she wasn’t sure she was quite ready to dip her toe in that particular pond again.

She fed Tabitha, made herself a cup of tea and went out to the conservatory. Dawn was breaking, the sky washed pale pink above the rooftops to the east, and she curled up on a chair overlooking her pretty little garden, pressed the mental ‘reset’ button and let herself come to slowly.

It was her favourite time of the day, before the rest of the world got up, and she cradled her mug in her hands, snuggled further down into the chair and listened to the sounds of the glorious spring morning.

The birds were singing, and she could hear boards creaking next door, more of those masculine footsteps running down the stairs, a muffled exclamation—and an almighty crash that sent Tabitha fleeing for the hills and made Daisy spill her tea.

‘Oops!’ she murmured, trying to tune out the man’s voice as she blotted uselessly at her dressing gown, but it was hard to ignore. What on earth had he done? Something pretty drastic, judging by the expletives seeping through the thin party wall.

And then there was silence.

‘Are you OK?’ she called warily—although she didn’t really need to raise her voice.

‘Um—yeah. Sort of,’ he replied, his voice muffled by the wall. ‘Sorry. Minor crisis.’

‘Anything I can do?’

A despairing laugh, then, ‘Not unless you’re a plumber.’

She heard footsteps striding down the hall, then a door opening, and a knock at her front door.

She opened it, and her mouth sagged. Wow, he was …

Well, he was many things. Tall. Broad. Gorgeous. Young enough to be interesting, old enough to have something about him. And there was plenty about him. He was covered in filthy, sodden debris, his suit drenched and splattered, his hair full of bits of stuff, his once-white shirt a dirty, streaky grey. In the striking, really rather fabulous blue eyes lurked a hint of irony that made her smile.

Then the eyes tracked down her dressing gown and stopped on the huge tea-stain. ‘What happened to you?’ he asked incredulously, and she gave a stunned little laugh.

‘I thought that was my line,’ she said, trying not to laugh any more because it really, really wasn’t funny, but his mouth quirked.

‘Ah. My ceiling came down,’ he explained unnecessarily, and Daisy had to bite her lip. To her surprise his eyes creased in a smile.

‘Sorry about the noise. And the language. I’m Ben, by the way,’ he said, holding out his hand, then withdrawing it and wiping it on his trousers, scanning it before offering it again. She took it, noting that as well as being a little wet and gritty, it was warm and firm. Strong.

And his voice—a hint of something that could have been Yorkshire? A little gruff. A little blunt. And a lot sexy.

‘Daisy,’ she said, and let herself smile properly. ‘Welcome to Rivenhall Villas. May it get better.’

He gave a slightly desperate laugh and closed his eyes, dragging his hand over his face and smearing the dirt into it. A streak of blood joined the dirt, welling slowly from a thin cut over his eyebrow.

‘I can only hope. I don’t suppose you know a plumber?’

She tightened the belt of her saturated dressing gown, hopped over the low fence between the diamond-patterned paths and peered down his hall at a scene of utter devastation. His kitchen had disappeared under a sea of sodden lime plaster and broken laths, and there was a slow, steady drip from a dangling lump of ceiling. The rush, she sensed, was over, but …

‘Just a plumber?’ she murmured thoughtfully, and behind her she heard another wry laugh.

‘A plumber would be a pretty good start. An electrician might be a handy second, that light’s hanging at a jaunty angle. And a plasterer, perhaps?’

‘Mmm. It seems to have stopped, though.’

‘Yeah. I reckon it was the waste. I’d just had a bath.’

‘Ah. Very likely, then. I tell you what,’ she said, turning back to him and finding him right behind her. She took a step back, and a nice deep breath, because under the plaster filth and the wet dog smell coming off his suit was the lingering remains of some seriously interesting aftershave. Citrusy, with a touch of amber …

‘You were about to tell me something,’ he prompted, and she collected herself.

‘Um—yes. Why don’t I throw on some clothes and come and help you clear up? I’ve got an hour before I have to leave for work.’ And a nice long shower planned, but she could feel that going out of the window rapidly.

‘Lucky you. I have to leave now. Let’s face it, it can’t get any worse, but I can’t do anything about it and I’ve got bigger fish to fry. It’s my first day in a new job, I don’t have another suit or any way of getting the filth out of my hair, and there’s no way I’m turning a tap on! I guess I’ll just have to make do with spitting on a handkerchief.’

Obviously he hadn’t looked in a mirror yet.

‘This is going to take more than spitting on a hankie to sort out,’ she said drily. ‘And you’ve got a cut over your left eye. Do you have another shirt?’

He fingered his eyebrow gingerly and nodded. ‘And trousers and a jacket, but not the power suit, sadly.’

‘Can’t help you there,’ she said, giving up all hope of starting her day with any kind of normality. ‘However, I do have a shower. Why don’t you grab some clean stuff and sort yourself out while I find you a plumber?’

‘Really?’

‘Really. Find your clothes, I’ll get dressed and I can make a start on the clean-up, too. I have a vacuum that’s very good for sucking up spills.’

‘Spills?’ He choked on a laugh, and the smile that crinkled his eyes made her stomach turn over. ‘There’s a bathful of water on that floor.’

‘No problem. It can cope. I’ll just have to empty it lots—if I can find the sink.’

He frowned. ‘Daisy, are you sure? It’s a hell of an imposition.’

Well, at least he realised it. Her morning was running away with her, but she couldn’t just leave him like this. She found a smile—not as hard as she’d thought, because those eyes were really quite …

‘I thought you were in a hurry?’ she said, and squeezed past him, hopped over the fence and ran upstairs, dragged on her gardening clothes, put a towel in the bathroom for him and had just hauled the vacuum up from the cellar as he appeared at her door.

‘Look, you really don’t have to clean up—’

‘Don’t be silly, it’s nothing. Bathroom’s at the top of the stairs, straight ahead of you. I’ve put you out a towel on the side of the bath and the plumber’s calling me back.’

He didn’t believe it.

He should. Things like this seemed to happen to him these days. He tipped his head forwards so it was under the stream of hot water and let out a tired, frustrated sigh. He’d known moving into the house before it was fixed was rash, but—this rash?