With a Little T.L.C.

With a Little T.L.C.
Teresa Southwick

A racing heartbeak…check.Heightened senses…check.Flush of color to the cheeks…check.A shivery quiver in the pit of the stomach…check.An intense desire to throw herself into Joe Marchetti's arms…check-check-check-check.Yep, Nurse Liz Anderson had the classic symptoms of love. Worse, there wasn't any surefire cure. The best she could hope for was to believe her condition was contagious–and that Joe was equally susceptible to her! Hmm, maybe it could be transmitted by kisses…

“I wouldn’t think a man like you would be interested in cuddling,”

Liz told Joe.

“Define ‘a man like you.’”

“An upwardly mobile businessman, single and—” She hesitated.

“And?” he prompted, one dark, well-formed eyebrow lifting with the question.

She’d been about to say “attractive,” but didn’t dare. “And busy.”

“That’s all true. Although I’d like to know how you knew I was single.”

The flirtatious manner was a big clue, although why she couldn’t say. Another lesson from her past experience was that flirting wasn’t exclusive to single men. Married ones could philander at the drop of a hat or the swish of a skirt, too.

“It was just a hunch…until now.”

With a Little T.L.C.

Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

For Andrea Pascale—your encouragement, support, friendship and love mean more than I can say. My gratitude for sharing your little Valerie with her “outlaw” cousin. The refresher course in baby stuff added so much to this book. Many thanks.

TERESA SOUTHWICK

is a native Californian who has recently moved to Texas. Living with her husband of twenty-five years and two handsome sons, she is surrounded by heroes. Reading has been her passion since she was a girl. She couldn’t be more delighted that her dream of writing full-time has come true. Her favorite things include: holding a baby, the fragrance of jasmine, walks on the beach, the patter of rain on the roof and, above all—happy endings.

Teresa also writes historical romance novels under the same name.

Dear Reader,

If there’s a woman anywhere who can resist the sight of a hunky guy holding an infant, I’ll eat my computer. On second thought, I’ll make her a heroine with enough baggage to tour the continental United States. In fact, I did just that in With a Little T.L.C.

I’ve always loved babies. Even after raising my two sons, the baby bug isn’t out of my system. For a long time now, I’ve wanted to be a volunteer in a newborn nursery. Few things come to mind that are as rewarding as listening to the sounds of a baby as you hold that small, warm body close. Even better is knowing that something so simple can make an important impact on a new life. Studies have been done documenting the critical role of touch in a newborn’s ability to thrive. Unfortunately, I never seem to have enough time to indulge my purely selfish need to cuddle babies.

But I’m a writer. I can send my heroine where I don’t have time to go. Or, better yet, my hero. The challenge was irresistible. We take it for granted that women are nurturers. But why would a man, especially a goodlooking bachelor like Joe Marchetti, spend time holding babies? Remember that heroine with all the baggage? Nurse Liz Anderson can’t help being cynical about her newest volunteer cuddler. Is he just a guy with a scheme to meet women? Or is he really as incredibly wonderful as he seems?

The only thing more rewarding than holding a baby is writing about someone else who holds them. It was fun discovering right along with Joe and Liz that even the most cynical heart can be healed With a Little T.L.C.

Enjoy!

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

Chapter One

“You want to be a cuddler?”

Nurse Liz Anderson stared at the gentleman on the other side of her desk. And she did it without gawking, she thought proudly. Not easy when the man gave new meaning to the phrase tall, dark and handsome. Six feet if he was an inch. Brown almost black eyes full of intensity, charm, and humor in equal parts. And so handsome she was grateful that her voice had worked to form the words into a question.

“You sound shocked,” he said.

“That’s because I am.”

He folded his arms over a mighty impressive chest. Almost a year ago she had dragged him out of his sister’s hospital room by his ear because he balked at leaving when visiting hours were over. Considering that impressive chest, how in the world had she managed to do that?

“Why should my intentions surprise you?”

Those words spoken in that deep voice mobilized tingles that skittered down her neck and across her shoulders.

“It’s not every day that I get that kind of offer from a man.”

“It’s their loss.”

A flirt, she thought warily. She’d run into the type before and knew enough to steer clear. “I take cuddling very seriously, Mr. Marchetti.”

“You remember me,” he said, rubbing his ear. “I wondered if you did.”

He grinned, a pleased expression that showed off a masterful job of orthodontia or sensational genes. She wasn’t sure which. But any second she expected a diamondlike sparkle from his teeth, a movie hero come to life. In any case, she thanked her lucky stars that she was already sitting. It wouldn’t take much to knock her on her keister.