Doctor's Surprise Delivery: A Secret Baby Romance Read online

  Doctor’s Surprise Delivery

  A Secret Baby Romance

  K.C. Crowne

  Contents

  Also by K.C. Crowne

  1. Gia

  2. Gavin

  3. Gia

  4. Gavin

  5. Gia

  6. Gavin

  7. Gia

  8. Gavin

  9. Gia

  10. Gavin

  11. Gia

  12. Gavin

  13. Gia

  14. Gavin

  15. Gia

  16. Gavin

  17. Gia

  18. Gavin

  19. Gia

  20. Gavin

  21. Gia

  22. Gavin

  23. Gia

  24. Gavin

  25. Gia

  26. Gavin

  27. Gia

  28. Gavin

  29. Gia

  30. Gavin

  31. Gia

  32. Gavin

  33. Gia

  Doctor’s Secret (Preview)

  About the Author

  Also by K.C. Crowne

  Doctors’ Babies Series (THIS SERIES)

  Doctor’s Secret | Doctor’s Surprise Delivery

  Mountain Men of Liberty Series

  Baby for the Mountain Man| Junior for the Mountain Man| Knocked Up by the Mountain Man| Baby For Daddy's Friend | Triplets for the Mountain Man | Taken by the Mountain Man| Secret Baby for the Mountain Man | Mountain Man’s Accidental Surprise | Quadruplets for the Mountain Man | Delivering His Gifts

  Lumberjacked Series

  Lumberjacked | Lumberjack’s Baby

  Rainbow Canyons Cowboy Series

  Untamed Cowboy |Taboo Cowboy |Cowboy’s Baby|Her Cowboy Daddies | Southern Charm| Cowboy’s Bride

  Big Bad Daddies Series

  Big Bad Doctor | Big Bad Daddy| Big Bad Taboo Daddy | Big Bad Prince|Big Bad Mountain Man| Big Bad SEAL| Big Bad Boss| Big Bad Sugar Daddy| Big Bad Mountain Brothers

  Bearded Brothers Mountain Man Series

  Her Mountain Daddy| Beauty and the Beard| Bride and the Beard| Built and Bearded |

  Firemen of Manhattan Series

  Big Bad Fireman’s Baby| Big Bad Firefighter| Big Bad Fire Daddy|

  Spenser Sisters Reverse Harem Series

  Men on a Mission| Christmas with Four Firemen| Dirty Cowboys

  Checkout KC’s full Amazon Catalog

  All books are FREE on Kindle Unlimited and can be read as standalones.

  Description

  Doctor Gavin was the reason I stopped trusting men.

  Now, he's the winning prize at the bachelor auction my firm is running.

  I have no words to describe my shock.

  I do, however, have a ton of HIGHLY obscene gestures.

  So why the H*LL did I place the highest bid?!?!

  Only to allow history to repeat itself.

  Nine months later...

  I've got a bun in the oven.

  And contractions that are just MINUTES apart!

  "We've had an emergency and your doctor can't make it. But, you're in great hands. Dr. Gavin will be right in."

  Guess now's the time I tell him my secret!!

  Please excuse me while I VOMIT!!

  Gia

  All I could think about was a comfy pair of sneakers. I had just the ones in mind – my white Chuck Taylor low-tops, perfectly broken in after years of use, scuffed just enough so they looked a little worn-in. But I was thinking more about the comfort.

  Because anything had to be better than zipping around at a mile-a-minute wearing heels. But as an event planner, I didn’t just have to be the best, I had to look the best.

  “OK,” I said as I strode through the hallway of the Nickel Creek Event Hall, the massive space decorated to the nines for the charity event. “Let’s hear a status report.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Kenna, my perky, twenty-something assistant said, clipboard in her hands as she flashed me a cheeky smile. “Kitchen’s prepped and ready to go. One word from you and they’ll start whipping out canapes like a blackjack dealer on a hot streak .”

  “Perfect.” The sounds of our heels echoed through the hall, mine in purposeful, steady strides, Kenna’s quick steps going click-click-click as she struggled to keep up. “And what about the seating – we good on that?”

  “Just took a pass before you called me. We’ve got seating for two hundred in there, and plenty more in the cocktail area – more than enough for everyone who’s scheduled to come.”

  I stopped. “Wait, are you serious?”

  Kenna, petite and cute, a short, pixie-style haircut framing her elf-like features, gave me that wide-eyed expression that always appeared on her face when she knew she was about to get chewed out. “Um, yeah,” she said. “Guests at charity events always bring plus-ones and twos. I wanted to make sure there was enough space for everyone.”

  “No way,” I said, continuing toward the massive double doors at the end of the hallway. “Whatever extra tables and chairs, get rid of ‘em.”

  “What?”

  Kenna was a hell of an assistant – and she’d have to be to work at my side for the five years I’d been running this business. But she could be accommodating to a fault, always a little naïve about how to really pull off the event of the season.

  “You heard me. We want this party to be exclusive. That means no one, and I mean no one, who isn’t on the list is getting in. I don’t care if the mayor of Denver shows up – she’s not on the list, no seat.”

  “But don’t we want more people here? I mean, more people means more money.”

  “More people means more chaos, more fighting over seats, more mouths eating and drinking. It’s not worth the hassle. Not only that, but we want people to feel like they really missed out on something by not getting in. And come next year when we’re throwing the same event, people will be losing their minds to get in. Trust me, when it comes to these high-society types, the FOMO is strong.”

  “FOMO?”

  “Fear of missing out,” I said with a sly smile. I turned toward the doors and kept moving. “Besides, the auction’s going to be livestreamed. Anyone who wants to bid can do so from the comfort of their ginormous Colorado mansion. I’ve run the numbers – we’re not losing a single dollar by keeping this event exclusive as eff.”

  Kenna grinned as we walked, seeing the wisdom of my words. I stopped again, about a dozen feet from the side doors to the main events space.

  “Detour,” I announced. “Let’s check out the kitchen.”

  “Good call.”

  I backtracked a bit, opening a non-descript door and heading through. The kitchen on the other end was a massive affair, industrial-sized, the stainless-steel surfaces and appliances gleaming under the stark overhead lights. A couple dozen or so kitchen staff zipped around, calling out orders as they prepared the food for the evening. It was controlled chaos through-and-through, the exact sort of chaos I liked.

  The staff, knowing I was the woman in charge, cleared out of the way as I moved through. Then I laid eyes on the man I was searching for.

  “Chef Bennet!” I called over the cacophony of dishes being prepared.

  A tall man with a fleshy face and rotund belly that stretched out the front of his chef’s outfit listed his head from behind one of the prep stations.

  “What’s the word with the appetizers?”

  He gave me a pleased smile, gesturing for me to join him. I stepped around the station and was presented with a round white plate with a series of finger foods intricately arrayed. “The word is they’re ready for you to try.”

  I plucked one of the appetizers f
rom the plate and popped it in my mouth, groaning as the flavors exploded in my mouth.

  “Phyllo roll pastry with figs and ricotta cheese,” he said.

  “Good,” I mumbled with a full mouth. “Damn good, really. What else?”

  “Here we have a classic bruschetta with local cheese and tomatoes.”

  I gave that a try, quickly chewing and swallowing. “Classic and tasty. One more.”

  “My take on a kebab. Pita bread with sirloin and a black pepper aioli.”

  One more bite, one more series of quick chews, one more hard swallow. “Also good. But I’m seeing a little bit of a theme here.”

  “And what’s that?” he asked, eyebrow lifting.

  “It’s all bread-heavy. And no vegan options.” He glanced down at the tray, then at me. “Trust me, Bennet, these upper-crust types have more allergies and food preferences than stocks in their portfolios. And half of them are on one restrictive diet or another. Kenna, what was that one you’re on?”

  “Caveman,” she said with a bright smile. “If it wasn’t something a caveman could eat, you don’t get to have it.”

  My eyes on Bennett, I gestured to her with a “see what I mean?” look on my face.

  He frowned thoughtfully, then said, “I could do some meatballs…no bread, of course.”

  “And throw something with kimchi on there, too.”

  He grinned and nodded. “I’ve got just the thing in mind.”

  Before he had a chance to step away, a thought occurred to me. “Oh, and can you do a re-up on this app plate? I’ve got a VIP out there who’s probably starved by this point.”

  “You got it.”

  He snapped his fingers at one of the sous-chefs, then gestured to the plate. Moments later, the food was replaced. I gave my thanks to Bennet as I smoothly took the plate from the counter.

  “I have to admit,” Kenna said as we headed for the door. “This auction thing seems a little strange.”

  “You kidding?” I asked, pretending to be shocked. “They’re a blast – you march out a parade of studs and people go nuts. Nothing quite like seeing seventy -something society women drooling over beefcakes in tuxes. And they earn so much cash it’s crazy.”

  We approached the kitchen doors and I marched through, the events hall laid out before me. And what a space it was. I’d worked dozens of events there over the years, but the sight never failed to bowl me over. It was huge, done up in Art Deco style, with tall, vaulted ceilings that stretched up into forever, a gorgeous mural of the founding of Nickle Creek in the center, crystal chandeliers hanging overhead. The floor was stunning, glossy parquet, and the grand stage up front elevated and adorned with columns fit for royalty. The tall, arched windows looked out onto the mountains in the distance, the peaks jutting up into the star-strewn sky

  Over the stage was a navy-blue banner that read “Pitt Medical Autism Research Foundation” – the name of the charity heading up the event. I loved being able to run charity events, and the fact that this particular one was the brainchild of my best friend and her wonderful husband was a cherry on top of the whole thing.

  “This place is so cool,” Kenna remarked. “I want to actually attend a party here instead of only planning them.”

  “Then start saving,” I quipped. “You know how much per plate tonight’s gala is.”

  Appetizers in hand, I spotted just the woman I was looking for.

  “Alright,” I said, a small smile on my face. “I need to have a quick tete-a-tete with the lady in charge. Go do a quick sweep of the serving staff and make sure they look presentable. And if anyone’s staring at their phone instead of getting ready, you have my permission to chew them out.”

  She gave another cheeky salute. “You got it, boss.” Kenna headed off, and I turned my attention to said lady in charge.

  Annie Pitt, so pregnant she looked like a sudden surprise might make her pop, was seated at one of the white linen-covered tables, her sneakers propped up on the surface, the linen pushed up a bit so her feet weren’t on it. When she laid eyes on me – specifically the plate of food in my hand – an expression of relief washed over her pretty face.

  “Oh hell yes,” she said, reaching out her hands. “Gimme, gimme.”

  I laughed, handing over the plate of appetizers. She rested it on her round belly and popped a quick triplet of them into her mouth.

  “Chef Bennet would be most displeased that you’re not savoring those,” I commented, sitting down next to her.

  “Well, Chef Bennet’s not eight months pregnant and in a constant state of freakishly ravenous hunger.”

  I chuckled at the idea of the head chef with a big pregnancy belly. “Nice shoes,” I said, nodding to her sneakers.

  “Oh, these old things?” she asked, raising them slightly off the table. “Don’t worry – they’re not what I’m planning on wearing tonight.”

  “You want to wear ‘em, I won’t judge. Comfy shoes are all I’ve been able to think about since I put these on.” I reached down and gave my ink-black, glossy heels a tap. “They might look good, but my feet feel like they’re about to explode out of them.”

  Annie laughed as she tossed a piece of bruschetta into her mouth. “Wait until you’re pregnant as I am,” she said. “You know the thing they say about your feet swelling? It’s no joke – every pair of shoes feels like the ones you just had to buy even though they’re not your size. I’m half-thinking about getting Duncan to carry me around for the night.”

  “Me next,” I said. “My legs are killing me.”

  Then, as if right on cue, the man himself stepped through the outdoor entrance. Dr. Duncan Pitt was just as striking as ever, dressed in a fitted tux, a coal-black overcoat on over top. He slipped the coat off with a smooth, fluid motion, draping it over his big arm as he locked those striking blue eyes on his wife.

  “Hey there, gorgeous,” he said, leaning down and planting a kiss on her lips. Then a thoughtful expression formed on his face. “Hmm…you’ve never tasted so good. Almost like kebab.”

  “You can thank Chef Bennet for that,” I said. “He’s keeping Annie good and full.”

  “And that’s just the way I like her,” he said with a charming smirk. “Believe me – you don’t want to see her when she’s hungry.”

  She laughed, giving Duncan a swat on the leg. “Hey, when you’ve got a tiny human inside you screaming for food all day, you tell me how you like it.”

  Duncan laughed, and I couldn’t help but watch the two, both of them totally in love and the picture of perfect couple-dom. As happy as I was with my life, part of me wondered if I’d ever have anything like that they had. My dating life was in such dire straits that if it were a person, even a doctor as skilled as Duncan would have trouble bringing it back to life.

  “Place looks amazing,” Duncan admired, standing up and glancing around the event hall. “I think we’re set up for a hell of a night.”

  “To be fair, when you’re working with a venue as gorgeous as this, it does a lot of the heavy lifting.”

  “No selling yourself short in my company,” he admonished. “I hired you because you’re the best in town.”

  I grinned. “I’ll take that compliment.”

  I glanced at Annie, noting the strange expression on her face, one that seemed to suggest she had something she wanted to bring up, but wasn’t sure how it’d go over.

  “Babe,” she said, setting her plate down on the table. “Speaking of tonight…”

  Duncan’s eyes flashed as he remembered something. “Gia, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The auction…is it too late to add someone to the lineup?”

  I grimaced, somewhat playfully, somewhat truthfully. “Well, you know I don’t like last-minute changes…”

  “And I appreciate that,” he said. “I’d only suggest it if I thought he’d be a solid addition."

  “Hmm,” I said, giving the matter some consideration.
“I mean, more bachelors to auction off means more money for charity. And if he gets the Duncan Pitt stamp of approval, I’m willing to at least give him a shot.”

  “Perfect,” Duncan said, clasping his big hands together. “He’s backstage right now. Mind coming with me to meet him?”

  “Not at all,” I replied .

  Annie plopped her feet onto the ground and heaved herself out of her seat, and Duncan quickly offered his arm to help her up. “You guys do that, and I’m going to go see if Chef Bennet can top me off.” Plate in hand, Annie waddled toward the kitchen.

  “You look lovely, by the way,” Duncan complimented as we headed backstage.

  “Why, thank you, Dr. Pitt,” I smiled. “But I hope this isn’t your way of buttering me up so I let your friend take part. I like to think I’m immune to flattery.”

  He chuckled. “Not at all – I said it because you do. And trust me, once you see him you’ll realize he doesn’t need to be ‘sold’ like that. He’s a good-looking guy, funny as hell, tons of personality. And he’s a doctor, like me.”

  “Almost sounds like you’re about to bid on him.”

  He laughed. “Maybe I will. Just don’t tell Annie.”