The Texan's Royal M.D.. Merline Lovelace

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СКАЧАТЬ the St. Sebastian family and the woman who’d welcomed Zia into her home and her heart. Zia couldn’t imagine how she would have made it this far in her pediatric residency without the duchess’s support and encouragement.

      Two and a half years, she thought as she abandoned the rest of her morning run to head back to the condo. Twenty-eight months of rounds and call rotations and team meetings and chart prep and discharge conferences. Endless days and nights agonizing over her patients. Heartbreaking hours grieving with parents while burying her own aching loss so deep it rarely crept out to haunt her anymore.

      Except at moments like this. When she had to decide whether she should continue to work with sick children for the next thirty or forty years...or whether she should accept the offer from Dr. Roger Wilbanks, Chief of the Pediatrics Advanced Research Center, to join his team. Could she abandon the challenges and stress of hands-on medicine for the regular hours and seductive income of a world-class, state-of-the-art research facility?

      That question churned like battery acid in her gut as she headed for the resort where the St. Sebastian clan was staying. With the morning sun now burning bright in an achingly blue Texas sky, the holiday sun worshippers had begun to flock down to the beach. Umbrellas had flowered open above rows of lounge chairs. Colorful towels were spread on the sand, occupied by bathers with no intention of getting wet. Patches of dead white epidermis just waiting to be crisped showed above skimpy bikini bottoms, along with more than one grossly distended male belly.

      Without warning, Zia’s mind zinged back to Mike Brennan. No distended belly there. No distended anything. Just muscled shoulders and roped thighs and that killer smile. His worn flip-flops and ragged cutoffs suggested a man comfortable with himself in these high-dollar environs. Zia liked that about him.

      And now that she thought about it, she actually liked the idea of having dinner with him. Maybe he offered just what she needed. A leisurely evening away from her boisterous family. A few hours with all decisions put on hold. A casual fling...

      Whoa! Where had that come from?

      She didn’t indulge in casual flings. Aside from the fact that her long hours and demanding schedule took so much out of her, she was too careful, too responsible—all right, just too fastidious. Except for one lamentable lapse in judgment, that is. Grimacing, she shrugged aside the memory of the handsome orthopedic surgeon who’d somehow neglected to mention that his divorce was several light-years from being final.

      She was still kicking herself for that sorry mistake when she keyed the door to the two-story, six-bedroom penthouse. Although it was still early morning, the noise level had already inched toward the top of the decibel scale. Most of that was due to her cousin Gina’s almost-three-year-old twins. The lively, blue-eyed blondes acted like miniatures of their laughing, effervescent mother...most of the time. This, Zia could tell as shrieks of delight emanated from the living room, was most definitely one of those times.

      An answering smile tugged at her lips as she followed the squeals to the living area. Its glass wall offered an eye-boggling panorama of the Gulf of Mexico. Not that any of the occupants of the spacious living room appeared the least interested in the view. They were totally absorbed with the twins’ attempts to add blinking red Rudolph noses to the fuzzy reindeer antlers and jingle-bell halters already adorning their uncles. Dominic and Devon sat cross-legged on the floor within easy reach of the twins, while their dad, Jack, watched with diabolical delight.

      “What’s going on here?” Zia asked.

      “Thanta’s coming,” curly-haired Amalia lisped excitedly. “And...

      “Uncle Dom and Dev are gonna help pull his sled,” little Charlotte finished.

      The girls were named for the duchess, whose full name and title filled several lines of print. Sarah’s and Gina’s were almost as long. Zia’s, too. Try squeezing Anastazia Amalia Julianna St. Sebastian onto a computer form, she thought as she paused in the doorway to enjoy the merry scene.

      No three men could be more dissimilar in appearance yet so similar in character, she decided. Jack Harris, the twins’ father and the current United States Ambassador to the United Nations, was tall, tawny haired and aristocratic. Devon Hunter’s hard-fought rise from aircraft cargo handler to self-made billionaire showed in his lean face and clever eyes. And Dominic...

      Ahh. Was there anyone as handsome and charismatic as the brother who’d assumed legal guardianship of Zia after their parents died? The friend and advisor who’d guided her through her turbulent teens? The highly skilled undercover agent who’d encouraged her all through college and med school, then walked away from his adrenaline-charged career for the woman he loved?

      Natalie loved him, too, Zia thought with an inner smile as her glance shifted to her sister-in-law. Completely, unreservedly, joyously. One look at her face was all anyone needed to see the devotion in her warm brown eyes. She occupied one end of a comfortable sofa, her fingers entwined in the collar of the quivering racing hound to prevent him from joining the reindeer brigade.

      Zia’s cousins sat next to her. Gina, with a Santa hat perched atop her tumble of silvery blond curls and candy-cane-striped leggings, looked more like a teenager than mother of twins, the wife of a highly respected diplomat and a partner in one of NYC’s most successful event-hosting enterprises. Gina’s older sister, Sarah, occupied the far end of the sofa. Her palms rested lightly on her just-beginning-to-show baby bump and her elegant features showed the quiet joy of impending motherhood.

      But it was the woman who sat with her back straight and her hands clasping the ebony head of her cane who caught and held Zia’s eye. The Grand Duchess of Karlenburgh was a role model for any female of any age. As a young bride she’d resided in a string of castles scattered across Europe, including the one that guarded a high mountain pass on the border between Austria and Hungary. Then the Soviets invaded and later brutally suppressed an uprising by Hungarian patriots. Forced to witness her husband’s execution, Charlotte had made a daring escape by trekking over the snow-covered Alps with her newborn infant in her arms and a fortune in jewels hidden inside the baby’s teddy bear. Now, more than sixty years later, she’d lost none of her dignity or courage or regal bearing. White haired and paper skinned, the indomitable duchess ruled her ever-growing family with a velvet-gloved fist.

      She was the reason they were all here, spending the holidays in Texas. Charlotte hadn’t complained. She considered whining a deplorable character flaw. But Zia hadn’t failed to note how the vicious cold and record snowfall that blanketed New York City in early December had exacerbated the duchess’s arthritis. And all it took was one mention of Zia’s concern to galvanize the entire St. Sebastian clan.

      In short order, Dev and Sarah had leased this six-bedroom condo and set it up as a temporary base for their Los Angeles operations. Jack and Gina had adjusted their busy schedules to enjoy a rare, prolonged holiday in South Texas. Dom and Natalie flew down, too, with the hound in tow. The family had also convinced Maria, the duchess’s longtime housekeeper and companion, to enjoy an all-expenses-paid vacation while the staff here at the resort took care of everyone’s needs.

      Zia hadn’t been able to spend quite as much time in Texas as the others. Although Mount Sinai’s second-and third-year residents were allowed a full month of vacation, few if any ever strayed far from the hospital. Zia hadn’t taken off more than three days in a row since she began her residency. And with the decision of whether to accept Dr. Wilbanks’s offer weighing so heavily on her mind, she wouldn’t have dragged herself down to Galveston for a full week if Charlotte hadn’t insisted. Almost as if she’d read her mind, the duchess looked up at that moment. Her gnarled fingers tightened on the head of her cane. One snowy brow lifted in a regal arch.

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