Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (45 page)

At the moment, though, she was rather enjoying the warm feelings she had when he was near and the sound of Jack’s laughter at a remark of Lucky’s. Her cheese-mustard-and-sprouts sandwich was delicious, too. A woman could get used to being coddled.

During a pause in the conversation, Rod remarked, “You folks ought to throw a housewarming party.”

On Anya’s other side, Karen said, “What a great idea!”

“I was going to propose that at the meeting,” Lucky said. “Thanks for reminding me.”

They settled on a barbecue next Saturday afternoon, with each of the residents preparing a dish and guests bringing desserts. For entertainment, they would play croquet on the lawn and set up board games in the den and living room.

“My daughters will be here from San Diego,” Rod told Karen. “As long as they’re in town, is it all right to invite them and their grandmother?”

“Of course!” She looked as delighted as if he’d offered to bring the cast of her favorite TV show. “How old are they?”

“Ten and twelve,” Rod said.

Anya figured they’d enjoy the party more if they had a role to play. “They could dress up as waitresses—wear frilly aprons and serve hors d’oeuvres.”

“How adorable,” Zora said.

“Anya’s good with kids,” Lucky noted. “She could supervise the hostess brigade.”

“She’s
great
with kids,” Jack affirmed. “Tiffany’s crazy about her.”

Their praise flowed over Anya like perfumed lotion. And being around girls that age would be more like play than work. “Sure, I can do that.”

“Who else shall we invite?” Karen asked. “Let’s make a list.”

After they’d drawn up the names of coworkers and friends they wanted to invite, Rod asked Karen for a tour of the house. “This is my dream home,” he added.

“I’d be happy to show you around.”

Lucky cleared his throat. “Not to rely on stereotypes about rich doctors, but I would have assumed you’d have a place of your own by now.”

“Long story.” Rod helped Karen from her chair. “I’ll tell you while we walk, if that’s okay.” He’d cut Lucky out of the explanation, which served the guy right, in Anya’s opinion.

Lucky accepted the situation with good grace. “Since it was my turn to cook and you guys saved me the trouble, I’ll clean up.”

“I can help,” Zora said. When the others stared at her in surprise, she added, “He’s always accusing me of shirking my share of the work. I’m just proving him wrong.”

“I do not,” Lucky protested as he arose.

“Yes, you have, several times,” Anya told him.

“Really?”

“I’ll help, too,” Melissa said. “It’s dangerous to leave you two alone. There might soon be chalk-marked bodies on the kitchen floor.”

Rod and Karen sauntered into the living room. Jack followed, so Anya went along, too.

“That’s quite a collection.” Rod examined the colorful plates in the curio cabinet, each bearing the design of a different geographic location. “You must love to travel.”

“Most of these belonged to my mother, from when she was younger.” Karen’s voice thinned. “I did love to travel with her, but my ex-husband broke most of my plates that I bought on our trips.”

“That’s awful!” Anya had heard that her friend was divorced, but she didn’t know any of the details.

“He was a nasty— Well, I’d rather not use an ugly word.” Karen hugged herself, a movement that emphasized her slender figure.

“I’m sorry.” Rod touched her shoulder lightly. “I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.”

Karen moved toward the stairs. “We’ve been divorced for ten years. It’s old news.”

“My wife left me six years ago,” Rod told her as they climbed, his voice drifting back to Anya. “She was a nasty piece of business herself.”

“He isn’t exaggerating,” Jack said from beside her. “I can vouch for that.”

Anya poked him in the ribs. When he swung toward her questioningly, she indicated the older couple, who’d reached the second-floor landing. “They could use some privacy,” she murmured.

He gave her a conspiratorial wink.

While Rod and Karen ambled left toward the master suite, Anya detained Jack in the wide upstairs hall. “That’s Safe Harbor in the 1930s.” She indicated a sepia-toned photo of bare bluffs overlooking a harbor smaller than its present formation, with a scattering of vacation cottages where shops, a hotel and restaurants now stood. “Karen says it was dredged and enlarged later.”

His gaze dropped to the purple couch from Anya and Zora’s apartment. “I’m glad to see you guys were able to haul that sofa up here in one piece.”

“If you notice any blistered paint, it’s from Lucky’s cursing.” Keenly aware of being alone with him, Anya fought the impulse to draw closer to his warmth. Chattering more than usual to fill the void, she said, “He doesn’t even use it, since his room’s downstairs.”

“Being on this floor with three other women must be like living in a dorm,” Jack mused.

It isn’t all women right now.
Ignoring her mental digression, she said, “I never lived on campus. I’ll bet it’s fun.”

“It is. Almost everyone lives on campus at Vanderbilt.”

He’d mentioned before how much he’d enjoyed the excellent premed and medical training in Nashville. However, there was one question he hadn’t answered. “Why did you decide to become a doctor?” Anya asked. “Was it Rod’s influence?”

“Partly. If not for him, I’m not sure I’d have believed it was possible. But that wasn’t the main reason.” Jack’s expression grew thoughtful. “My mother told me once that my dad had longed to be a doctor but couldn’t afford medical school. He turned to firefighting instead as another way to help people. He died after re-entering a burning apartment building to find an elderly woman who was still missing. The roof collapsed on him.”

Anya touched his arm. “What a terrible loss.”

“That’s the risk firefighters accept.”

“What happened to the woman?”

Jack shook his head ruefully. “Turned out she wasn’t even there.”

She searched for a more pleasant subject. “Why’d you go so far away to medical school? I mean, being a California resident, it would have been cheaper to go to a UC campus, and they’re world-class.”

“I wanted to experience a different part of the country and a different climate.” Jack stroked the back of her hand, which still rested on his arm. “Since I won a partial scholarship, the cost was comparable to in-state tuition, and Vanderbilt has an outstanding program.”

“Lucky you.” His caress quivered through her. “I’d hoped to pursue a master’s degree to become a nurse practitioner.” In rural communities and inner-city areas that lacked doctors, nurse practitioners often provided vital primary care to infants, children, adults and the elderly, which had originally been her plan. “But without a grant, I had to stop at my RN.”

“Why’d you decide to become a scrub nurse?” He watched her with keen interest. Not just making idle conversation, Anya realized.

Being the center of his attention felt wonderful; it showed that she mattered to him. “I got a job at a hospital and started helping in the O.R. The more surgeries I assisted with, the more I loved it. I developed my skills on the job.”

“So you found your true calling more or less by chance,” Jack said. “Maybe not getting a grant was a lucky break.”

Anya laughed. “I never thought of it that way.”

He indicated the three bedroom doorways. “Which one’s yours?”

“Back corner.”

“I’ll bet it has a great view.”

Taking the hint, she led him into the room. “Ignore the mess, okay?” She’d left a stack of clean laundry on the bed to be folded.

“You consider this a mess? I like what you’ve done with the room. It’s nice.” Hardly high praise, but then, her plain, inexpensive furnishings didn’t merit compliments.

She found Jack’s nearness even more enticing in these intimate quarters. Everything about him appealed to her, from the chest-hugging T-shirt to the light in his green eyes.

Longing shimmered through Anya. As a diversion, she hurried to the window. “It’s especially pretty at sunset.”

“It sure is.” Jack came to stand close to her, not quite touching, and the air heated between them. His arm circled her waist, drawing her close.

Anya relaxed against him. Jack turned her toward him and touched his lips to hers, and the longing that rushed through her underscored how much she’d missed him.

Pleasure tingled through Anya as she stroked his thick dark hair. New Year’s Eve hadn’t been a tipsy aberration. She’d longed for him from the moment they met. And now she longed for more.

As they eased away from the window, they bumped into a small table. Wrenched from her reverie, Anya grabbed the small plant rocking on its drip plate. “Oh, no!”

Jack barely glanced at the African violet. “No harm done. It was nearly dead anyway.”

“That’s what’s so awful.” She stared in dismay at Paula. Robust and blooming a week ago, the plant now drooped in its pot. “I can’t believe it’s in such bad shape. I didn’t even notice.”

“You said you expected to kill it,” he reminded her, his cheek against her hair.

Anya tried to figure out what she’d done wrong. “I must have overwatered it. I was afraid it would dry out, away from the bathroom.”

“It’ll recover.”

“Are you kidding? It’s a goner.” Guilt flooded Anya as she fingered a wilted leaf. If she couldn’t care for a plant, how could anyone expect her to raise a child? Not that she planned to. “I hope it isn’t suffering.”

Jack released her with a sigh. “I’m sorry the plant is so upsetting. I should have given you a silk one.”

“Would you throw her away for me?” She couldn’t bear to dump poor little Paula in the trash.

“No problem.” Lifting the plant and drip pan, he bore them from the room and she followed.

Belatedly, Anya reflected that she’d spoiled their tender moment. But that was just as well. What if someone had walked in on them? Worse, what if someone
hadn’t
walked in on them?

In the hall, Rod and Karen were talking earnestly on the couch. They broke off as Anya and Jack approached. “Good tour?” Rod asked Jack.

“The best.”

His uncle studied the plant. “You have quite an effect on growing things.”

“One scowl and it withered away,” Jack said cheerfully.

As they descended the stairs, Anya heard Karen and Rod’s conversation shift to next weekend’s housewarming party. Karen was bubbling with enthusiasm about meeting Rod’s daughters, and he had a new lilt to his voice.

If she hadn’t insisted that Jack wait on her, he and Rod wouldn’t have been here tonight, Anya thought. For Karen’s sake, she was glad they’d come. But talking about her dreams and witnessing Jack’s sadness about his father had made her even more vulnerable to him. She’d nearly welcomed him into her bed all over again.

If not for the baby, she’d love to spend more time with Jack. But she remembered she’d too often acquiesced to her family even as an inner voice warned that it was a mistake. She had to listen to that voice this time. She wasn’t ready to be a mother. Her spirit rebelled at the prospect of taking on the responsibilities—the fears, the worries, the inadequacies—she’d only recently escaped. And with that frame of mind, she’d be a poor mother anyway.

As she reached the ground floor ahead of Jack, Anya’s hand drifted to her abdomen. Startled, she snatched it away.

She couldn’t do anything about work or next weekend’s party, but aside from that, she would stop requesting Jack’s assistance. The less time they spent alone together, the safer she’d be.

Chapter Nine

Jack hefted his tray and surveyed the nearly full hospital cafeteria. Tables outside on the patio, warmed by heat lamps in the brisk February afternoon, sat empty. Inside, he spotted several tables occupied by his fellow surgeons and other specialists, including Rod.

So he couldn’t claim that there was nowhere else to sit, but then, he didn’t require an excuse.
Just march over there and plunk yourself down.

Aware that he was breaching an unwritten rule of cafeteria etiquette, he navigated the maze of tables to join Anya and three of her housemates. “Hope this chair isn’t taken,” he said and sat beside her.

Whatever she’d been discussing with Lucky, Melissa and Karen, the conversation died. No sign of Zora. Probably had an ultrasound to perform.

From his tray, Jack handed Anya a small salad. “That’s yours.”

“I didn’t ask for anything,” she said rather ungraciously.

It was Thursday and she hadn’t made a single request since last weekend. “It’s my job to take care of you. You should eat more vegetables.”

Melissa nodded wordlessly. He’d scored points with someone.

“Well, thanks.” Anya poked a cherry tomato with her fork. “How’d you know I like ranch dressing?”

“Who doesn’t?” Jack responded.

“I had you figured wrong,” Lucky observed.

“Oh?” While Jack wasn’t keen on conversing with the fellow, he could hardly avoid it. Especially because he’d invited himself to their table.

“I took you for a stuck-up talks-only-to-God surgeon,” the tattooed nurse responded.

Jack didn’t bother to ask what he’d done to deserve such an assessment. “I condescend to mingle with the masses occasionally.”

Karen brushed crumbs from her blouse. “You have to drop this reverse snobbery if you plan to be an administrator, Lucky.”

“Is that your goal?” Jack tackled his teriyaki chicken with an appetite stoked by a long morning in the O.R.

“He’s earning a master’s in administration,” Melissa explained.

“I graduate this summer.”

Lucky’s air of pride was deserved, Jack acknowledged. “Then what?”

“Then I hope a suitable position opens up here at Safe Harbor.”

“Otherwise he might have to move,” Karen noted.

“Good luck.”
Enough about him.
Jack turned to Anya. “While we’re on the subject of Saturday’s housewarming party...”

“We aren’t.” She started eating the salad.

“Give Jack a break,” Karen said.

Had Karen always been a sympathetic soul or only since her new friendship with Rod? In any case, Jack appreciated the support.

Anya waved her fork. “You’re right. Jack, what were you about to say?”

He dredged up the excuse for barging in he’d decided on earlier. “That was a great idea you had about the girls acting as servers, Anya. I heard the thrift store rents costumes, so I swung by there and reserved two cute waitress outfits. I can pick them up tomorrow.”

Anya’s nose scrunched. “Might be awkward.”

“Why?”

“Didn’t Rod tell you?” Karen asked. “Our boss, Jan, and her husband are bringing their daughters, too.”

“They’re nine and ten,” Melissa put in.

Jack adjusted his plans in a flash. “I’ll rent extra costumes. They had more, and as for the sizes, it shouldn’t matter if they’re a bit loose.”

“Especially if there are apron strings we can tighten,” Karen said.

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“You’d be a great dad,” Melissa said. Catching the dismay on Anya’s face, Melissa raised her hands apologetically. “I just find Jack’s attitude refreshing. My ex-husband hated the idea of parenthood. I wasn’t keen on it, either, at first, but working in the fertility field, being around babies, I developed this intense desire. More than a desire—a conviction that having children is why I was put on this earth.”

“And he didn’t stand by you?” Jack found it hard to imagine a man abandoning his wife on such a fundamental level.

“He went out and had a vasectomy without telling me.” Melissa’s classic features tightened into an angry mask.

Abruptly, Jack made the connection: the attorney who’d brought the waiver to him was Edmond Everhart—same last name. He’d seemed a decent enough guy, but to Melissa, an action like that must have been tantamount to a betrayal. And once a person betrayed your trust, Jack didn’t see how they could regain it.

“When I was in my twenties, I’d have liked to have been a mother,” Karen said wistfully. “Then my ex’s drinking got out of control. Even if you divorce, children bring all kinds of legal and emotional ties to the other person. I couldn’t bear being yoked to that man for life.”

“Wow, this is a heavy discussion,” Lucky said.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” Jack teased.

“What are you, a psychologist?”

“He sounds like one sometimes,” Anya said. “In a good way.”

Jack chuckled, surprised by her response. “Glad you think so.”

“Well, you deserve a compliment now and then.” She indicated her empty salad plate. “It was kind of you to bring this.”

“Uh-oh, better watch out for knives in your back, Anya.” Melissa indicated a nearby table where a couple of young nurses were glaring in their direction.

“What’s their problem?” Jack asked.

“You didn’t see them eyeing you and toying with their hair?” Karen asked. “I was afraid that leggy one was going to trip you when you walked by her.”

Jack frowned. Why would a nurse trip him?

“She means they were flirting.” Lucky blew out his frustration. “Man, the rest of us guys kill ourselves trying to get that kind of response, and you don’t even notice.”

“I have more important things on my mind.”

Lucky turned to Melissa. “Speaking of more important things, what’s on Saturday’s menu?”

“It’s my week to cook, which puts me in charge of the meal planning,” she explained to Jack. “We’re barbecuing burgers and hot dogs. Veggie burgers, too, for Lucky. You guys are fixing the side dishes.”

“Pasta salad,” Karen volunteered.

“Fruit.” Anya left it at that.

“Green salad.” Lucky gazed around the table. “We’re short one person. What’s Zora bringing?”

“Something,” Anya said.

Jack laughed. Now that he was growing accustomed to her terseness, he rather liked it. Especially when it came at someone else’s expense.

A clatter of dishes signified the departure of the nurses at the other table. One rolled her eyes at him, as if questioning his judgment. The leggy one pointedly ignored him.

He hoped none of them were invited to the party. It would be a lot more fun without their ridiculous tactics.

Too bad he couldn’t get the same kind of attention from the one person he really wanted to receive it from.

* * *

“T
HEY
’
RE
SO
CUTE
!”

“How darling!”

“I want to put it on right now!”

Four little girls swirled around Anya in the den, holding up lacy white aprons and caps, shiny black under dresses and frilly white socks. Tiffany, the oldest, seemed as entranced by the notion of playing dress-up as did her ten-year-old sister, Amber. With their red braids and freckles, the two were a matched set, save for height.

No such hesitancy came from stepsisters Kimmie and Berry Sargent. They looked nothing alike—nine-year-old Kimmie had elfin features, whereas Berry was tall for her ten years, with a smooth dark complexion inherited from her late mother. Anya had heard that Berry’s stepfather, Zack Sargent, had been raising her as a single dad when he re-encountered his first love, Jan, and they’d blended their families.

The girlish chatter reminded Anya of the special moments when her triplet sisters used to rush to her with their joys and concerns. Supervising them hadn’t been
all
hard work and feeling trapped. She was proud to think of them graduating from college this spring. Could they really be that old?

“My friend showed me how to carry a tray like a real waitress,” said Berry, the tallest of the young group. “You hold it to the side with your hand open underneath. Oh, she said to load the heavy stuff in the middle so it doesn’t tip.”

The other girls looked impressed, all except for Kimmie, who was hopping up and down with excitement. “Where can we change?”

“In my room,” Anya said. “Berry, after we change, I’d love for you to show us all how to carry the trays.”

“Me, too?” teased Jack, who’d arrived in a black vest and slacks and a crisp white shirt. The man could easily pass for the maître d’ at a five-star restaurant, where that devilish grin would net him plenty of tips. If the surgery business ever dried up, at least he had a fallback, Anya mused.

She straightened his rakish bow tie. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” His gaze caught hers for a shimmering moment.

“We love the clothes, Uncle Jack,” Tiffany said.

“I’m glad.” He beamed at his nieces.

Anya draped her waitress outfit over her arm. She hadn’t expected him to bring one for her, too, but was glad he’d thought of it. “Girls! Follow me upstairs, and hold on to the railing. No shoving.”

They snaked through the crowded house, the girls dodging under grownups’ arms and bumping their elbows. It was a miracle they didn’t leave a trail of spilled drinks.

In Anya’s room, the girls dived into their outfits. Their high spirits were infectious; even quiet Amber giggled when Kimmie tied her apron around her head so it flowed down the back, saying, “Don’t you guys just love this cool hat?”

Seeing Tiffany about to follow suit, Anya waggled her hand for attention. “Aprons around the waist, please. Hats on heads. Socks on feet.” Her no-nonsense tone did the trick.

As she donned her black dress and apron, Anya saw that she’d left her laptop sitting on the low table, open to her social media page. She was about to click it off when she noticed her grandmother’s stern, beloved face on the screen. Grandma Meeks had never been the cuddly, brownie-baking type of grandmother, but it had been she who’d recognized Anya’s aptitude for nursing.

“It’s not all bedpans and massages,” she’d declared when her granddaughter initially dismissed the suggestion. “In my day, nursing was considered a challenging career, and it still is. And you can save lives while you’re at it. Can’t beat that!”

Her grandmother’s enthusiasm had inspired Anya to volunteer at a nearby hospital. She’d been surprised how much she enjoyed the setting, and after talking to some of the nurses, she’d realized Grandma had been right. Then she had the idea to become a nurse practitioner and run her own practice, which had excited her even more. In retrospect, it would probably have been a tougher path than she’d imagined, but at the time, the prospect of gaining her independence while filling an important medical need had fired her with purpose.

But as Jack had pointed out, it had all worked out in the end.

While the girls finished dressing, she read the post on the site. It was from her sister Ruth. Grandma Rachel would be celebrating her 80th birthday in April. The whole Meeks family was invited—or rather, commanded—to gather in their Colorado town for a big blowout.

A string of responses bore the names of Anya’s siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. Many offered suggestions and hardly anyone had demurred. It would be a shame to miss this event, Anya conceded, but she’d been planning to avoid her family until next Christmas because she didn’t want them to know about the pregnancy. Now what was she going to do?

Downstairs, she found Jack in the kitchen, arranging hors d’oeuvres on trays that Karen had produced. “Young ladies!” he commanded the four little waitresses, who quit poking each other. “Who wants to serve outdoors?”

“What if someone hits us with a croquet ball?” Berry asked.

Jack peered out the window. “I don’t see anyone playing right now. As for the badminton game, those plastic shuttlecocks wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Berry and I can go outside,” Kimmie said. “That’s more fun and we don’t mind the smell.”

“Speak for yourself!” Kimmie’s sister scrunched her face.

“Put a drop of perfume on your upper lip,” Tiffany advised.

“I’d rather stay in.”

“I’d rather be outside,” Amber piped up.

Hearing the girls’ preferences, Anya took charge. “Here’s how we’re doing it. Berry, you show everyone how to carry a tray. Then you and Tiffany can stay in the house because you’re taller and it’ll be easier for you to avoid smacking into everybody. Amber and Kimmie, you’ll be the outdoor team.”

Heads nodded. Soon they were balancing the trays, following Berry’s example.

After they marched out to perform their duties, Jack gave Anya a thumbs-up. “I’m impressed. You had them all figured out.”

“It’s best to pair them by age, anyway,” Anya told him. “This way they can make new friends. And it’s important to take what they want into consideration.”

He lounged against the counter, his gaze lingering on her until heat rushed through her body. “You make a sexy waitress.”

“And you’re a smashing head waiter.” Her fingers itched to loosen that tie and undo the buttons on his starched shirt.

He was moving toward her when a small throat clearing from the corner drew their gazes to Helen Pepper, who’d been dozing on a chair. Jack paused, and Anya eased away.

“You’re both wonderful with children,” Helen said as if she hadn’t noticed the vibrations between them. “Today you’ve brought the sparkle back to Amber’s face. She’s been much too quiet since she arrived.”

“Anya’s the one who understands kids,” Jack told her.

“It’s self-defense.” Anya took a chair across from the older woman rather than talk down at her. “I practically raised my three younger sisters after my mom became disabled. But as for my maternal instincts, they’re pathetic. I even managed to kill an African violet.”

Helen chuckled. “They’re delicate plants. I murdered an entire bed of begonias and that practically requires a blow torch.”

“Overwatering?” Anya asked.

“Taking a vacation and forgetting to arrange for any watering at all.” With an indulgent air, Helen patted Anya’s hand. “Don’t worry. You would never mistreat a child, even by accident. You’re a natural mother.”