Dr. Single Dad (The Doctors #5) Read Online Louise Bay

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Forbidden Tags Authors: Series: The Doctors Series by Louise Bay
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Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 438(@200wpm)___ 350(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
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“So if she cries I offer her milk? Doreen was putting her in some kind of routine.”

“Forget the routine. If Guinevere’s hungry, feed her. If she needs her nappy changed, change it.”

“Right,” he says. “Feed her. Change her. Can’t be that hard, right?” He’s staring off in the direction of the ambulance like he’s hoping time will rewind and suddenly he’ll be playing football instead of worrying about how to feed his kid.

“Maybe while you’re waiting, you can call the agency and get an emergency nanny. That’s how Elliot and I met, isn’t it, Elliot?” I screw up my eyes and then open them wide at him. He howls like he’s a wolf and I’m the moon.

“Maybe I’ll hire you,” he says.

I laugh. “You passed, remember?”

He nods. “I do. I was an idiot.” Clumsily, he takes the brake off the pram and starts toward the exit. “Thank you.”

I shrug, uncomfortable with his gratitude. I hardly did anything. “Good luck.” He walks away, a tall hulk of a man in knee-high socks, with hair that could do with a cut, pushing a pram that looks two sizes too small for him.

It’s adorable. And a little bit sexy.

Thank God he didn’t hire me. If I can feel attracted to a man in the middle of a crisis, working for him on a daily basis would have been a complete disaster.

SEVEN

Eira

Callie is in the bathroom and I’m just about to set the dishwasher when my phone rings. It’s the agency.

“Hi,” I say. “Felicity?”

“Darling, I have fabulous news.”

“You’re up late.”

“Working my heart out. And I have the perfect job for you. Even better, you don’t need to interview. I have an offer. You’ll never guess who from.”

“The Lebedevs?” I ask. The Russian family are due back to London about now. They are legendary at Portland. People who manage to get hired by them are able to put a deposit down on a house. They pay eye-wateringly well. They sweep into town, hire two nannies for six months or a year to work around the clock and travel the world. Then they disappear. To a yacht? A tax haven? In hiding from Putin? No one knows.

“Better,” Felicity says. “Dax Cove.”

My stomach leaps. “Guinevere’s dad?”

I know exactly who she’s talking about. I’m just trying to buy myself time to figure out how to react. Because I should be thrilled. It’s a permanent position, with one child, in the center of London. It’s the job every nanny wants.

Except I’m not sure I do.

Felicity click-click-clicks on her keyboard. “Yes, Guinevere. She’s just over a week old. How sweet.”

“What happened to Doreen?”

“Doreen?” she asks, as if I’ve just asked her how her window cleaner is. “Oh yes, Doreen. She’s in hospital. Turns out she has a heart condition. Collapsed with the baby apparently.” Her tone is matter-of-fact, like she’s telling me about a tube strike.

“I know, Felicity. I was there. I called you, remember?” Poor Doreen.

“Oh yes, that’s right. Anyway, what do you think about Dax Cove? He called me, adamant he wanted to hire you.”

“What salary is he offering?” I ask. Okay, so I don’t have a job and can’t afford to be picky, but I should make sure there are no reasons not to take this job. A low salary would rule it out for me. I absolutely can’t take a job unless the money is right. There’s too much riding on it.

“Oh, it’s good,” she says and I pull in a breath, waiting. I’ve turned down plenty of jobs in the past because of the salary. I have a lot of outgoings, and maximizing my salary is my number-one priority. “Hang on a minute, I’ve got it here.” I imagine Felicity in her office, surrounded by scribbled notes, knee-deep in paper. I’m not sure whether I’m waiting for her to tell me the salary is high or low. Why am I wishing for a way out of this job?

“Annual of sixty-five gross.”

“This is a live-in role, right?” Sixty-five is high for an English family. You always get paid more by the Russians or the Arabs. English families always pay less, which is one of the reasons I almost didn’t apply for the position.

“Yup, live-in. I told him your previous salary and said you could expect six figures in some circumstances.”

I try and do the calculation in my head. Sixty-five would be slightly more than I was on before. I might be able to clear five thousand a month. With a salary like that, I might even be able to save a little, get ahead of myself. I could pay off Eddie’s credit card bill. And if she wanted to do that masters she’s been talking about, I might be able to make it happen.

There must be a catch. “You think he’s good for it? He’s young. I don’t want to be out of a job in three months because he realizes he can’t keep up with the payments.”



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