Falling for Dr. December

by Susanne Hampton

Overview

Her calendar doc… 

When Laine Phillips left Uralla twelve years ago she vowed never to return. Now a world-famous photographer, Laine has two rules: not to mix business and pleasure, and to rely totally on herself! It's the only way to protect her heart… 

But when Laine is forced to return to Uralla for a charity calendar shoot, the scorchingly attractive—and highly uncooperative—Dr. Pierce Beaumont begins to melt the barriers around her frozen heart! Laine's soon breaking both her rules…and falling for Dr. December!

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781460344354
Publisher:	Harlequin
Publication date:	12/01/2014
Sold by:	HARLEQUIN
Format:	eBook
Pages:	192
File size:	225 KB

About the Author

 Married to the man she met at eighteen, Susanne is the mother of two adult daughters, Orianthi and Tina. Her varied career titles have included dental nurse, personal assistant, contract manager and now Medical Romance author. The family also extends to a maltese shih-tzu, a poodle, three ducks and four hens. Susanne has always read romance novels and says, ‘I love a happy ever after so writing for Mills & Boon is a dream come true.’ 

Read an Excerpt

'Just one more step and I'll shoot!' Laine waited for some reaction, but there was nothing.

The man before her appeared unmoved by her words. He stood in silence, shaking his head, his dark, deeply set eyes staring back coldly. The clenched muscles of his jaw made his face appear even more angular and harsh. Laine was painfully aware that he had no intention of taking her seriously. But why would he? Her willowy stature would pose no threat to his potent six-foot frame now stripped bare to the waist. He wasn't about to listen to her plea.

The afternoon sun slipped through the curtain breaks and she watched the curves of his broad chest and powerful arms etched by the light. Slowly he ran his fingers over his open belt buckle. She felt the need to swallow as his fingers moved to the top stud of his jeans. Her eyes closed for the briefest moment but opened just as quickly. She hoped it was not more than a blink. Showing any sign of intimidation she was feeling would give him the upper hand. She had learned that over the years.

'I promise, take another step and it'll be your last,' Laine called aloud, while silently she chided herself for having been talked into coming back here in the first place. Why had she done it? She should have known no good would come from returning to this town. The lump in her throat that had formed when she'd driven her hire car down the New England Highway and into Uralla that morning showed no sign of being swallowed. It was lodged firmly and going nowhere. It was a sign she should not be here. She had left the town twelve years ago for good reason.

She waited for his response in action or words but there was nothing. He showed no emotion. She couldn't read his face. Instead she felt the weight of his gaze as it roamed her body, slowly, painstakingly, making her feel uneasy with every lingering moment, until it came to rest on her mouth. Running his hand through his short black hair, he appeared distracted as he stared at her in silence. Then abruptly his husky voice made her stiffen as he asked brazenly, 'You really know how to use that?'

Only able to catch his unshaven profile, she could see his mouth curve into a smirk. She fought his intimidation with all her strength. She refused to let him know he was close to succeeding in his desire to unnerve her. She had to maintain the upper hand and stay in control and that meant staying calm.

'Take that step and you'll soon find out how accurate I can be.' Her tone was mild and steady, even though inside she wavered. Laine hoped her newfound composure, albeit at odds with her true feelings, might prove more successful. She knew this was the last time she could issue her ultimatum without it echoing as an empty threat. She would not get what she'd come for and all of this would have been for nothing. No one was going to get the better of her. Not here and not now.

She held her ground and prayed this time he'd take her seriously. And he did. Grudgingly, and with a level of hesitation Laine didn't fully understand, he set his dusty boots up another rung of the ladder and eased his long leg over the top to sit astride it.

'At last,' she muttered to herself as she tucked some stray wisps of her long brown hair behind her ear and reached for another lens from the table behind her. With her camera focused, and maintaining eye contact with her handsome but obstinate subject, Laine moved behind the ladder prop and began a photographic shoot with the confidence and expertise that only someone with her ability and experience could execute.

A cold sweat rushed over Pierce but he swallowed hard and kept his eyes from looking down. His heart was pounding roughly in his chest as he struggled to push unwanted images from his mind. Memories were rising to the surface and no matter how logic reasoned with his fear, fear was close to taking hold. Despite the fact that he wasn't that twelve-year-old boy balancing precariously on a balcony ledge, he suddenly found himself feeling equally vulnerable. His knuckles clenched whitely and he willed the shoot to be over. Nervously he rubbed his brow. He had to stay on task, remind himself it was just a ladder in an unused consulting room of his practice in order to maintain any remnant of composure. He knew it wouldn't be easy when he took the first step, but he hadn't expected it to be so overwhelming all these years later. Some memories were clearly hard, if not impossible, to forget.

'You can come down now but seriously, Dr. Beaumont, was that so terribly difficult?' she asked with exaggerated politeness, as she removed the lens and packed the camera body back into its case. 'If you'd gone up another rung without the dramatics, we could have wrapped up twenty minutes ago,' she complained as she began to dismantle the lighting umbrella. She was tempted to comment further on his bad attitude but didn't want to cause any more animosity. Better to keep her opinion to herself, she mused as she began packing the tripod in the longest of her waterproof equipment bags.

Pierce Beaumont couldn't answer her. He climbed down from the ladder in silence. With both feet on solid ground, anxiety morphed to anger. 'What was so damned important about going up one more step?'

'It's about framing the picture. I won't compromise when it comes to my work. And please don't be late tomorrow. I'm hoping to get the sunrise over the McKenzies' property,' she replied flatly, as she glared back at the man who had made the last hour very difficult. 'I've already photographed eleven other GPs across Australia and you have been without doubt the most uncooperative. Why on earth agree in the first place if you don't want to see yourself in a calendar? I saw the contract, it was clearly your name and signature on it.'

'That's just it,' he snapped back. 'I didn't agree to any of this. My former partner, Gregory Majors, forged the paperwork before he retired. He did it as a prank. Thought I'd see the humour in it. Clearly, I didn't.'

Laine knew the name instantly. Dr Majors, the town's general practitioner. It was a name that brought memories rushing back at lightning speed. It was something he would do. The man had an impish side to him. Laine had been his patient many times when she'd lived in Uralla. The first time when she'd come down with tonsillitis, then there had been her broken arm from a fall during a high-school netball game and a few other teenage scrapes. He had been the local doctor since he'd finished medical school when, like so many of the townspeople, he'd come back to nest.

But not Laine. She had left and vowed never to return. She took a deep breath. The time that she had called Uralla her home was over and she could never think of it that way again. She had planned it would be her forever home but that dream had ended and taken with it her belief in the words 'for ever'.

'When I tried to back out of it, the organisers told me that they'd booked your flights and the budget wouldn't allow them to reschedule,' Pierce continued, bringing Laine back from her reverie. 'I offered to pay for new flights for you to wherever they could find another mug who'd agree to take my place but apparently they couldn't find anyone. They explained that the entire timeline would have blown out and they wouldn't have met the deadline. No calendar meant there'd be no fundraising for next year. They played the guilt card very well.'

There was more to it than that. Pierce hadn't been able to walk away after he had read the charity prospectus and realised what a worthwhile cause he would be assisting. He had been torn. Posing for the calendar irked him beyond belief but he couldn't them down. Building a facility in each capital city to assist those foster-children who had turned eighteen and were aging out of the system was so needed and such a huge task. Although it went against his better judgement to bring attention to himself, he'd decided that he needed to put the charity first. He would deal with repercussions, if any arose, later.

'How noble of you to go ahead, then.' Laine rolled her eyes, unaware of his knowledge and belief in the charity. She was not impressed. She took both her work and the cause seriously and she was annoyed with his apparent lack of respect towards her and the project. This charity meant the world to her. She would give, and do, whatever she could to help make a difference to the lives of foster-children. Someone had to.

It was tough being in foster-care sometimes but it was even tougher when the stay came to an end. Laine knew that firsthand. She wanted to provide assistance for the children before the system scarred them and also to assist those transitioning into adulthood. She had been involved with the charity for a number of years, and each year she took on a greater workload. Some days when the loneliness of the life she had chosen was almost untenable, she thought of all the foster-children enduring a swinging-door childhood and knew there had to be a way to improve their lives. Any assistance she could provide from her connections and her work she would give without reservation.

Carefully, and in silence, she continued to pack away her equipment, cleaning the front and rear elements of her lenses before storing them. She was fastidious about the tools of her trade and valued everything she owned. She used the best, she could afford it, but it hadn't always been that way and having scrimped and saved when starting out for even the basic photographic equipment ensured she never took any of her belongings for granted now.

'I might have to do this shoot but I sure as hell don't have to climb up a ladder again. In fact, I'm calling the shots tomorrow. My way or no way,' Pierce said, not masking his disdain for the entire situation.

Laine looked at the man who would be her subject for the next two days and knew it could easily become one of the most frustrating and difficult assignments of her almost ten year career. Frustrating because of the subject, difficult because of the location. Dr Pierce Beaumont was ridiculously uncooperative and Uralla held memories she wanted to forget.

When she'd left the small town, almost three hundred miles north of Sydney, all those years before, she had never expected to return. A part of her past, it bore no relevance to the life she had forged in New York. Laine knew she had never been happier than when she'd lived in Uralla but she also knew she wasn't that girl any more and she could never fit into this town again.

She was a citizen of the world, a woman for whom her career was her entire life. There was no room and no need for anyone else in it—and particularly not the people of this town. They were warm and welcoming but she didn't want that level of sentiment in her life. It didn't fit with her any more. Those years living in a small town had allowed her to finally understand what it felt like to be a part of a family. Someone had actually cared how she'd felt and had wanted her to be safe and protected. For the very first time she had stopped feeling abandoned. She had stopped expecting that all promises would eventually be broken.

The perfect picture she'd painted of a life with one loving family—a life she had only dreamt of when she'd constantly moved homes, meeting new foster-families and being bullied by foster-siblings—had actually come true. It had been a home where she'd learned the true meaning of unconditional love, and one that had provided the answer to the question she had asked all her life: Where did she belong? It was right there.

But after four wonderful years it had all come to a terrible, tragic end. Her adoptive parents had died in a car accident. They were gone, and never coming back—and she had been alone once again.

So Laine had used the scars to give her strength. She'd turned her back on the security of the small town and chosen a new life, far away from Uralla. It had taken years to finally become successful but she'd known she could do it. Eventually, her determination to take control of her life, to make the most of every day and to rely on absolutely no one had driven her to the top.

Travelling the world, working with models and managing their demands, and those of the clients, at fashion shoots and waking up in a different hotel every day had finally become way of life for Laine. It was a mad schedule but being frantically busy allowed her to keep her thoughts of the past at bay. There were lonely times but it was the price she paid for the life she led and she never complained. Even the demands of models didn't unnerve her. They all had a job to do and at the end of the assignment they all had great shots in their portfolios. If they played the thorny card, Laine was at a level in her career when she could refuse to work with them again, and generally bad attitudes meant their careers were short-lived.

Laine loved what she did. It was that simple. She was a well-respected photographer and she never needed to look for work. Her name was synonymous with work in highend magazines representing the finest fashion houses and most expensive jewellery lines, and recently she had completed an assignment on the Italian Riviera for an iconic sports-car company. Her portfolio was eclectic, with the most beautiful, timeless and cutting-edge photographs of any living photographer.

She had worked hard for everything she had achieved and no doctor from New South Wales with little or no knowledge of her profession was going to try and tell her what to do.

She was not little Melanie Phillips of Uralla. That young girl no longer existed. She was Laine Phillips, international photographer. She wasn't about to be pushed around by any man, however handsome or crucial to her shoot.