The Doc's Double Delivery & Down-Home Diva Read online

  Duets™

  Two brand-new stories in every volume…twice a month!

  Duets Vol. #65

  The holidays are almost here and we have a delightful duo just for you. Multipublished author Jacqueline Diamond returns with a delicious doc and the unexpected twins the heroine is clearly expecting! Making her Duets debut this month is talented Stephanie Doyle with a Fran Drescher look-alike character who’s definitely out of her element down on the farm!

  Duets Vol. #66

  The holiday fun continues with Harlequin American Romance author Nikki Rivers, who serves up a quirky, fast-paced romance. “Ms. Rivers brings her characters to life with a fire that is magic,” says Affaire de Coeur. New author Kathleen O’Reilly will tickle your funny bone with a warm story about two best buds who suddenly see each other in a different light at Chistmastime. Enjoy!

  Be sure to pick up both Duets volumes today!

  The Doc’s Double Delivery

  Jacqueline Diamond

  Down-Home Diva

  Stephanie Doyle

  Contents

  The Doc’s Double Delivery

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Down-Home Diva

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  The Doc’s Double Delivery

  Jacqueline Diamond

  “You lied to me!”

  “No,” he said. “About what?”

  “Being so naive and out of it. Like you didn’t know your way around.” Chelsea put her face into her pillow.

  “I am naive and out of it.” His amused tone might have reassured her, if not for the awkward circumstances. “I spent the past two years on an island in the South Pacific.”

  “What were you doing on an island?”

  “Serving in the Peace Corps. I’m a doctor.”

  Two years on an island. He’d just returned and immediately gone to a brand-new nightclub known only to savvy locals?

  It was also known to Chelsea’s employer, who’d asked her to recommend a nightspot for his freshly arrived partner.

  “Hank?” she said.

  “Hmm?”

  “Your name wouldn’t be short for Barry Hancock Cantrell, would it?”

  He sat upright, nearly knocking her off the bed. “How did you know?”

  “Pleased to meet you, Barry. I’m Chelsea Byers, your new receptionist.”

  Dear Reader,

  Barry, the pediatrician returning from two years in the Peace Corps, and Chelsea, the free-spirited receptionist, nearly didn’t get their story told. For rectifying that, thanks are due to my editor, Jennifer Tam.

  She called while I was working on the book Surprise, Doc! You’re a Daddy! for Harlequin American Romance, and asked if there were any characters in it who might be bursting for a spin-off romance of their own.

  At first I wasn’t sure. Barry’s so stuffy, he draws up a list of desirable qualities before he goes wife hunting. Chelsea, on the other hand, lives for the moment and rescues castoff pet rodents.

  However, opposites attract. And collide. Sometimes they even produce unexpected pregnancies. And thereby hangs a tale.…

  If you enjoy my story, please write me at P.O. Box 1315, Brea, CA 92822. I promise to answer!

  Sincerely,

  Books by Jacqueline Diamond

  HARLEQUIN DUETS

  2—KIDNAPPED?

  8—THE BRIDE WORE GYM SHOES

  37—DESIGNER GENES

  44—EXCUSE ME? WHOSE BABY?

  55—MORE THAN THE DOCTOR ORDERED

  HARQUIN LOVE & LAUGHTER

  11—PUNCHLINE

  32—SANDRA AND THE SCOUNDREL

  For my good friend and mother-in-law, Joyce Wilson

  1

  “THERE WEREN’T ANY GOATS on the plane,” said Dr. Barry Hancock Cantrell after emerging from customs.

  “Were you surprised?” asked his cousin, Dr. Andrew Menton, who had come to the airport to meet him.

  “Pleasantly.”

  “Good. Then welcome to normality, if you consider Los Angeles normal,” said Andrew, and hefted a couple of Barry’s suitcases.

  After serving two years in the Peace Corps on Prego Prego, a Pacific island formerly colonized by the Italians, Barry was prepared to see goats almost everywhere; they were a mainstay of the island’s economy.

  They rode in the front seats of cars and slept on living room couches. They had also arrived at his pediatric clinic with their owners claiming to love them like children.

  Barry said no to them and to anyone else with an inappropriate request, however tempted he might be to take a goat’s temperature just to maintain good public relations. He maintained high standards at his clinic and always, despite the heat, wore a white coat.

  Now Barry shrugged aside his stiffness from the long flight and grabbed the rest of his luggage. “Thanks for picking me up.”

  “It’s the least I could do for my new partner. Believe me, I have a vested interest in making sure you don’t get lost,” Andrew said as they rode a moving walkway through the huge modern airport.

  An image of its counterpart on Prego Prego flashed into Barry’s mind. The ramshackle terminal barely provided shelter from tropical rainstorms. Passengers raced across cracked pavement to reach the planes, en route battling monkeys that darted onto the tarmac to snatch at their carry-on luggage.

  Inspired by his late mother’s idealism, Barry had set out to help save the world after completing his medical residency. Serving on the island had been a worthwhile experience, but boy, was he ready to be back in the U.S.A.

  He and his cousin formed a matched set, Barry realized as the two of them stepped off the moving walkway. Although Andrew was seven years older and a few inches shorter, they had similar broad shoulders, moderately muscular builds and dark brown hair.

  The family resemblance should make patients feel comfortable, now that Barry was joining Andrew’s upscale pediatric practice. He made a mental note to find out where his cousin shopped for those tailored slacks and crisp shirts. His own wardrobe was sadly lacking.

  “Your flight was a little late, thank goodness, or you’d have had to wait for me,” Andrew said as they skirted a group of camera-laden tourists. “You know how it is, trying to leave early on a Friday afternoon. Kids always get sick on the weekend. You’d think some of them could at least wait until tomorrow.”

  “You work Saturdays?” When he’d agreed to join the practice, Barry hadn’t queried about specifics.

  “Yes, for a few hours. I’m giving you this weekend off, though,” Andrew said. “You can relax until Monday.”

  “Thanks.” Barry hesitated to make his next request, then reminded himself of how urgently he wanted to start his search. “I’m a bit jet-lagged, but I’d like to explore the nightlife. Can you recommend any places to go dancing?”

  “Sure. I’ll give you that information as soon as I have a free hand,” Andrew said. “I came prepared because you asked me the same thing in your e-mail last week.”

  “I did? I guess I’m a bit overeager,” Barry admitted. “Well, I’m thirty-one years old. In med
school, I wasn’t ready to settle down, but boy, has that changed.”

  A scratchy touch on Barry’s throat reminded him that he was still wearing the island’s farewell necklace of seashells and macaroni. He would miss the laid-back island ways, his small patients and his dedicated staff.

  He would not miss the absence of a woman in his life. After two years of self-imposed celibacy, he was eager to find the right lady to marry.

  The men exited the terminal into a cool early-March breeze. It never got this chilly on Prego Prego. Usually the air steamed in the heat and carried the scents of salt water and blossoms. Los Angeles smelled of exhaust fumes.

  Barry hadn’t seen this many cars in the entire past two years, he noted, as a long line of vehicles halted to let the two men cross to the parking structure. He liked cars. Seeing so many at once, though, was a little overwhelming.

  “What kind of woman are you looking for?” Andrew asked as they entered the parking garage.

  “Someone steady and reliable,” Barry said, having given the matter due consideration. “Pretty but not flashy. Intelligent.”

  “Anything else?” His cousin led the way into a garage elevator.

  Mentally, Barry searched through the scenarios he’d created during the long, lonely nights on Prego Prego. “She should have a career that matters to her. Of course, she’ll have to want children, too.”

  “Absolutely,” said Andrew, who had two kids of his own.

  “I guess I’m asking a lot,” Barry said.

  “On the other hand, you’re offering a lot,” his cousin commented. “You’re a doctor.”

  “I’m not rich,” he pointed out.

  “With the proper investments, you’ll get there.” The elevator door opened, and Andrew led the way between rows of automobiles.

  “Here’s my car.” Stopping behind a Lexus sedan, Andrew set down the suitcases, fished in his pocket and handed Barry a slip of paper. “Before I forget, here’s the name and address of a club. Can’t vouch for it personally, though. I had to rely on one of my sources.”

  “That sounds intriguing.”

  “Apparently this club scene is a complicated business.” Andrew opened the trunk. “This is supposed to be the newest, hottest place.”

  “I’m not sure I’m quite ready for that,” Barry admitted.

  “Have a drink, and if you don’t like the scene, go home,” Andrew said. “It’s not as if you’re going to meet the perfect woman on your first try.”

  “Besides, faint heart ne’er won fair maiden, right?” Barry said.

  “Something like that.”

  As they piled his luggage into the trunk, his mind skipped ahead to that evening. He pictured a woman sitting at the bar, perhaps with long dark hair like his sister-in-law, Cindi, or maybe short blond locks. Their gazes would meet…

  “Cindi arranged for the leasing company to leave your new car in your garage,” Andrew added. “It’s a sharp little sports number.”

  “What color?” Barry asked.

  “Metallic blue, she said.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Sleek but not loud, that was what he’d requested. And a midpriced American model that wouldn’t strain his budget.

  On Prego Prego, Barry had lived in a hut made of scrap iron with a roof fashioned from discarded tires. He was looking forward to occupying the new condo he’d bought through an Internet broker.

  “Your utilities are turned on, so you’re all set,” Andrew said. “We’re expecting you at my house for dinner Sunday night. Think you can find your way there?”

  “Sure.” Although he’d grown up in Austin, Texas, Barry and his mother, Meredith, had moved to L.A. when he was seventeen, after she and his father divorced. It had been a painful split, following years of disagreements.

  His parents hadn’t fought over anything as mundane as money or religion. Both were sixties-era idealists who grew apart over the years. Meredith came to believe the government could solve all problems while his father, Lew, a family doctor in private practice, contended fiercely that the government was the problem.

  After moving west with Meredith, Barry had visited the Menton family home often while attending college and medical school at UCLA. “I can’t wait to see Cindi and Aunt Grace,” he said.

  His cousin nodded. “They’re delighted that you’re here.”

  As he got in the car, Barry reflected that he couldn’t wait to find his own version of Cindi—smart, efficient and elegant. Maybe it would happen this evening, if he got very, very lucky.

  THE PEDIATRIC waiting room erupted into chaos while Chelsea Byers was on the phone in the reception bay, trying to schedule a child’s appointment. The mother, a real estate agent, kept putting her on hold to take other calls.

  The trouble started, as far as Chelsea could tell, when three-year-old Laryssa swiped a Lego piece from two-year-old Krystle. Wailing, Krystle threw her doll, missed, and hit four-year-old Tisa, who stumbled against the giant aquarium.

  All three girls were children of privilege. Their clothes were probably purchased on Rodeo Drive, their hair was cut and curled at designer salons and one girl had bragged that she drove her motorized minicar through her family’s mansion.

  They also knew how to act like fishwives.

  With a scream of outrage, Tisa flung herself at Krystle. The smaller child dove beneath the Lego table, wiggled out the other end and banged Laryssa on the kneecaps, sending her crashing to the carpet.

  “Yo! Stop killing each other!” Wedging the phone between cheek and shoulder, Chelsea waved her hands. Gold sparkles flew from her fingernails.

  She could feel her purple-tipped black hair bursting free of its clip, so she set down the phone. A voice squawked on the other end. Chelsea said, “Excuse me,” and put the woman on hold.

  To her relief, the three girls stopped fighting and stared at her. “You have funny hair,” said Tisa.

  “Can I see your nails?” asked Laryssa.

  “Sure.” Chelsea held them out. Poking at the sparkles, the little girl giggled.

  Krystle pouted. “Me touch hair!”

  “I’m not sure if I should let you.” Chelsea looked toward their mothers for permission. The three of them regarded her with varying degrees of exasperation.

  “It’s no wonder they’re restless,” said Laryssa’s mother. “We’ve been waiting half an hour.”

  “I’m sorry. Dr. Withers is the only one in the office this afternoon,” Chelsea said. “Dr. Menton went to meet his new partner at the airport. He’ll be starting here on Monday.”

  “His new partner?” asked Tisa’s mom.

  “He’s Dr. Menton’s cousin, Dr. Barry Hancock Cantrell.” Chelsea ducked out of the reception bay, which was edged by a semicircular counter. Through a door from the inner hallway, she entered the waiting room. “Here.” She crouched to let Krystle touch her flamboyantly dyed hair.

  “His new partner is a Hancock?” Laryssa’s mother sounded impressed.

  Benedict Hancock, grandfather of Andrew Menton and Barry Cantrell, had been a legendary pediatrician in Los Angeles. Chelsea wasn’t impressed by pedigrees, and from his reputation she expected this Barry person to be a huge stuffed shirt, but the mothers were obviously bedazzled.

  “I guess we can put up with a little inconvenience,” said Krystle’s mother. “For a Hancock.”

  The three little girls surrounded Chelsea as if she were a new form of entertainment. She found she enjoyed being down here on the floor, away from the demands of the phone.

  Let voice mail handle things for a while. As for leaving the real estate lady on hold, turnabout was fair play.

  “Anybody want a horsy ride?” she asked.

  “Yippee!” The girls piled on.

  Chelsea collapsed with an exaggerated groan. “Not all at once.”

  “Me first!” said Tisa.

  “Me!” That was Krystle.

  “I want the longest ride,” said Laryssa.

  None of them got off.


  “Make up your minds,” said Chelsea.

  “I’m thinking,” said Tisa.

  At close range, Chelsea discovered, the kids were cute. At least, as much of them as she could see from this angle.

  She’d never felt comfortable around children. Being a receptionist in a pediatrician’s office hadn’t been her first choice of job, although she liked it better than the half-dozen positions she’d held previously.

  Speaking of positions, this one was cramping her legs. “Somebody has to get off,” she said, to no effect.

  The nurse, Helen Nguyen, pushed open the internal door. “Laryssa Oglesby,” she read from her chart. “Chelsea? What are you doing on the floor?”

  “Trying to breathe.”

  “Having any luck?”

  “Not really.”

  By the time Mrs. Oglesby removed her daughter and Chelsea gave the other two girls their rides, her slacks were covered with carpet lint and her scalp ached from having her hair pulled as reins.

  Kids might be cute, but she wondered where their mothers got their patience.

  With a sigh, Chelsea went to pick up the calls on hold. It was three-fifteen. In a few hours, she’d be free for the weekend.

  Friday night was playtime. She planned to hit the newest, edgiest nightclub, the exciting kind that opened in a converted warehouse without benefit of fire inspections or code enforcement, and would no doubt close as soon as the authorities got wind of it.

  Maybe she’d meet a really cool guy, the wilder the better. If not, she’d dance with lots of geeks and have a good time anyway.

  BARRY STOOD inside The Slash/Off! Club, trying to take his bearings.

  Beams of colored light swept the vast space with dizzying speed, making the throng of shaggy dancers resemble a herd of stampeding buffalo. Between the so-called music and the stomping of feet, he hadn’t heard such loud noise since the last typhoon hit Prego Prego.

  “Move it!” came a woman’s voice from behind. “You’re blocking the way!”

  Since she had to scream in his ear to make herself heard, she came close enough to give Barry a whiff of her perfume. It had a sharp, fresh tang that he couldn’t identify, definitely not old-fashioned floral.