Under the Mistletoe with John Doe

Under the Mistletoe with John Doe
Judy Duarte

When the unconscious, well-dressed stranger was brought into the Brighton Valley E.R., Betsy Nielson couldn't help but notice how irresistibly attractive he was.He might not remember who he was, but the mysterious John Doe was already turning the dedicated Texas doctor's head. Now something was telling her to trust in him even if it meant risking her heart again…. The last thing he remembered was being struck from behind and going down for the count.Now he was lying in a hospital bed with a red-haired angel tending to him. Though John might have lost his memory, he knew he wanted Betsy in his life - permanently. But how could he offer her a future until he'd figured out his past?

Unable to help herself, Betsy reached out and stroked his cheek, fingering his solid, square-cut jaw, the faint bristle of his beard.

His gaze locked on hers, stirring up something deep within her, and any reservations about getting involved with him flew out the window.

As he lowered his mouth to hers, his musky, masculine scent assaulted her better judgment and set her mind swirling in a maelstrom of desire.

This was so not what she’d planned, but it no longer seemed to matter.

He brushed his lips against hers—once, twice, a third time. Then he took her mouth and claimed it.

Dear Reader,

I don’t think there could be a better setting for a Christmas romance than Brighton Valley, Texas.

Within the pages of the book you’re holding, you’ll meet Dr. Betsy Nielson, a dedicated physician at the Brighton Valley Medical Center. Betsy, who was betrayed by her ex-husband, is facing the holiday season head-on, determined to focus on her work and her patients. But when a tall, dark and handsome mugging victim is brought into the E.R., battered and suffering from amnesia, Betsy is tempted to do something she’s never done before—get involved with a patient. Still, can she trust a man who doesn’t even know his own name?

I don’t know about your life, but mine gets busy and hectic during November and December. So I try to take time for myself and relax whenever I can. One good way I relax is by curling up with a book whenever I get a chance. I hope you’ll do the same.

Merry Christmas and happy reading,

Judy

Under the Mistletoe with John Doe

Judy Duarte

JUDY DUARTE

always knew there was a book inside her, but since English was her least favorite subject in school, she never considered herself a writer. An avid reader who enjoys a happy ending, Judy couldn’t shake the dream of creating a book of her own.

Her dream became a reality in March of 2002, when Silhouette Special Edition released her first book, Cowboy Courage. Since then, she has published more than twenty novels.

Her stories have touched the hearts of readers around the world. And in July of 2005, Judy won the prestigious Readers’ Choice Award for The Rich Man’s Son.

Judy makes her home near the beach in Southern California. When she’s not cooped up in her writing cave, she’s spending time with her somewhat enormous but delightfully close family.

To Janet Elmore, who reads every book I write.

This one’s for you, Janet! I hope you like it, too.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Chapter One

A Texas honky-tonk was the last place Jason Alvarez could have imagined himself being on a Wednesday night. But here he was, turning into the graveled driveway of the Stagecoach Inn.

It had been a long day, starting with an early morning workout at the gym, followed by an executive board meeting at Alvarez Industries. After having a business lunch with his brothers at an upscale restaurant in downtown San Diego, he’d flown to Houston on the corporate jet, then rented a car and made a two-hour drive to Brighton Valley.

He’d stopped once he’d reached the sleepy little town and asked where he could find a local watering hole. Apparently this backwoods cowboy dive was the nearest and the most popular.

The parking lot was only half-full, though, so finding a spot was easy. He pulled in between a white Chrysler LeBaron with a missing taillight and a beat-up Chevy pickup with gun racks and pasted decals in the rear window that said the driver’s name was Eddie and his passenger was Arlene.

Without even stepping inside the place, Jason had a feeling he wasn’t going to like the music or fit in with the crowd. But he was on a mission, and personal preferences didn’t matter.

So he shut off the ignition of the rental car, a black Cadillac Seville, and unhooked his seat belt. But he didn’t get out right away.

Instead, he reached for the bottle of aspirin he’d tucked into the pocket of his sports jacket and opened the child-resistant cap. Then he threw a couple of tablets into his mouth and chased them down with the remainder of the bottled water he kept in the built-in cup holder.

His head was aching again, a result of the concussion he’d suffered earlier this week in an automobile accident.

He’d been using the Bluetooth device on his cell phone when it happened, distracted by a business matter, his mind on everything but the road. His Mercedes had zipped right through the intersection, T-boning a minivan and injuring a pregnant blonde as well as her little girl.

Jason, who’d suffered only a concussion and some minor bruises and lacerations, had rushed to help the other victims, calling 9-1-1 as he did so.

Then he’d stood by helplessly as firemen used the Jaws of Life to remove the woman from the driver’s seat and the paramedics treated the child. The police had questioned him, and he’d clearly been at fault—the officers had known it, and Jason had known it.

When they’d told him he should be checked out by EMTs and taken to the hospital just to make sure he was okay, he’d declined treatment, saying he’d see his personal physician later.

The memories were just as clear now as they’d been on Saturday afternoon—the shattered glass, the twisted metal, the moans of the pregnant driver, the cries of the frightened little girl.