Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (48 page)

What a sweetheart. But Anya hadn’t missed the exhaustion on Ruth’s face by the end of the day, when she and her husband shepherded their children home. Cuddling a toddler for a few hours shouldn’t be mistaken for a taste of motherhood.

As for Jack’s plan to embrace single fatherhood, it reeked of good intentions that would only go awry. So why hadn’t she put her foot down back there?

He promised to relinquish his rights.
Keeping his word was a matter of honor.

As the elevator discharged them into the lobby, Anya admitted that there’d been an escape clause in his earlier promise. His words were engraved in her memory:
If you’re still absolutely determined to seek adoption, I’ll sign.

Each day, she became more keenly aware of the baby taking shape inside her. Plus, now that Zora was planning to raise
her
child—although she still hadn’t broken the news to the father—Anya was troubled by the prospect of having to live with an ever-present reminder of the baby she’d given up.

Jack had promised she could have as much or as little involvement in raising the baby as she liked. Of course, she preferred zero, but that meant she’d have to avoid Jack because seeing him would mean seeing their daughter, too.

It was hard, struggling through a thicket of possibilities. Also, in the short term, Jack’s offer to cook for the house was tempting.

Zora’s cooking duties started on Sunday, with Anya’s the following week. They could both use a break.

Adoption. Adoption. Adoption.

But why did she have to repeat that mantra if she truly believed in it?

You only get to make this decision once. Then you’ll bear the consequences for the rest of your life.

Yet Jack’s nearness had the oddest way of calming Anya. The thought of having him around the kitchen was almost irresistible.

Surely by the date of the ultrasound, she’d have a clearer idea of what course to choose.
You’re procrastinating.
Well, so what?

In the parking garage, Jack accompanied Anya to her car. Even beneath the meager lighting, his earnest, vulnerable expression pierced her defenses.

“You deserve a shot,” Anya said.

“Really?”

“Better grab the chance before I rethink this.”

Joy blazed from his eyes. “Thank you.”

“That’s all it is—a shot,” she cautioned.

“I understand.”

They stood close enough for her to feel the ripple of energy he generated, a force that drew everything nearby into his aura. The first time she’d experienced it, in the operating suite before their first surgery, she’d known he was dangerous.

Too bad she’d ignored that on New Year’s Eve.

“You can start on Sunday,” she went on. “I’ll tell the others. Actually, you should come to our meeting that afternoon. They’ll want to give you their food preferences.”

“Great!” Jack grinned like a schoolboy given a new video game. “Since I won’t know what to shop for that night, how should I plan dinner?”

“You can order pizza and a salad.” Recalling Lucky’s requirements, she added, “Be sure there’s a vegetarian one. Pineapple and mushrooms are fine.”

“Done.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to repeat that she wasn’t agreeing to let him raise the baby. But he already knew that. “See you.”

Jack waited until she drove off. Watching over her. Ah, that sense of safety.

She’d better not get used to it, Anya told herself sternly. When she thwarted him again in two weeks, he might never forgive her.

* * *

T
HE
WOMAN
CONFOUNDED
him. Anya seemed as stubbornly independent as ever, so Jack had no idea why she’d said yes to letting him cook.

As he took the stairs down to the doctors’ parking section on the ground level, he reflected that he’d put himself in a position to be pushed around by her housemates. Let them bring it on. It would be good training because from what he’d heard, toddlers could out-demand and out-harass anybody.

Already, menus flashed through Jack’s mind. The vegetarian dishes posed an interesting challenge. It was also an opportunity to provide healthy meals for his little girl.

His daughter. The garage lights blurred beneath a sheen of moisture. Jack could have sworn he saw rainbows from the corners of his eyes.

Sunday couldn’t arrive soon enough.

Chapter Twelve

Monday night’s menu:

Green salad with tomatoes, apples and cheddar cheese

Lentils and bulgur wheat with walnuts
and chopped apricots

Fresh-baked pita bread

Hummus

Apple pie

Jack had Mondays off after working an overnight shift, so he spent much of the afternoon planning and shopping for the week’s meals. He arrived at the house around 4:30 p.m., letting himself inside with a key that Karen had loaned him for his tenure as household chef.

After posting the menu, he cast an appreciative glance through the window at the flower-filled yard and the wetlands beyond. Yesterday had marked the start of Daylight Savings Time, bringing lingering daylight to the mid-March afternoon. The sunshine set the grays and greens aglow and picked out brilliant spots of red and yellow wildflowers. Just beyond the fence, a large raccoon paused to stare back at him, bold and unafraid.

Now, down to work. Hungry people would soon be arriving.

Yesterday, after serving pizza and interviewing the residents about their food preferences, Jack had explored the kitchen, inventorying the spices and cooking gear. Today, he assembled bowls, pots, utensils and ingredients on the counter.

Pleased at being in control of his environment, Jack set to work. He’d considered making a splash tonight by fixing salmon—until he calculated the cost of buying enough for six people. Given the high cost of groceries, he had to be realistic, especially considering he might soon have to equip his apartment for child-rearing.

He’d hit on a less costly entrée involving lentils and a cracked whole-wheat grain. He’d bought the ingredients at the Little Persia Mart, along with fresh-baked pita bread and hummus redolent of garlic, olive oil and chickpeas.

Half an hour later, with preparations well under way, he heard a car pull into the driveway. The first to enter his new domain was Karen, who’d changed her hair from strawberry blond to black with a silver streak in front. She was wearing a black top with silver threads and a long charcoal skirt that suited her new color scheme.

“Find everything okay?” she asked.

Jack gave her a thumb’s up. “Perfect.”

She retrieved a fruit drink from the refrigerator. “The kitchen’s a bit squirrelly. I never liked having to angle around to get into the pantry, but I couldn’t change the entire floor plan.”

“Doesn’t bother me. The new appliances put our apartment to shame.” Jack particularly admired the range, with two high-intensity burners, a pair of medium burners and a simmer at the back. “Who sets the table?”

“I will tonight,” she said. “We’ll eat in the dining room while you’re here. That other table’s too small.”

“Good idea.” Jack resumed chopping an onion.

Standing by the fridge, Karen read the menu. “How do you fix the lentil dish?”

Jack indicated the recipe he’d set up in a plastic holder. “It’s all right there. I’m doubling it.”

“You might want to triple it,” she said. “We’re big eaters.”

Jack performed a fast calculation. “I should have enough ingredients.”

“That’s a good sign for the future. Parents have to be flexible.” She lifted her drink can in salute.

“Indeed they do.”

While she carried china and tableware into the dining room, Jack put the wrapped pita in the oven to warm. Next he began frying the onions, and as they cooked he washed the romaine lettuce, drying it in a salad spinner. A few minutes later, Lucky wandered in to observe, having changed from his nurse’s uniform into a muscle T-shirt and weather-defying shorts.

Either the guy overheated easily or he was emphasizing his masculinity in the face of this male intruder into his domain. However, Jack detected no hostility as Lucky watched him dice.

“Where’d you learn to cook like that?” his companion asked.

“High school.” Thank goodness boys no longer drew sneers for taking cooking classes, at least in California.

“I appreciate the vegetarian menu.” Lucky coughed, as if it hurt to thank Jack for anything.

Quit projecting onto the guy. You two could be allies here.
“My pleasure.”

From the den came the musical sound of Anya’s voice. Even without being able to distinguish the words, Jack could instantly peg her mood: a little tired but upbeat. And fairly energetic, considering her condition and that she’d worked all day.

He’d been glad to find her in his operating room on Friday, but that had been three days ago and he hadn’t caught even a glimpse of her since. Jack kept his face averted, not wanting Lucky to see how eager he was for the sight of her.

He needn’t have worried. Muttering something about a snack, Lucky darted into the pantry.

The women were moving this way. “You should tell your sister where to get off,” Zora was commenting.

“You’d think she’d notice I haven’t agreed to her plan,” Anya grumbled.

“Your cousins seem to already assume you have.” Zora stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. “Oh! Jack. I forgot you’d be here.”

Anya, shorter and rounder, steered her friend aside so she could enter. “Smells fantastic.”

“Menu’s on the fridge.” Jack chopped apples into bite-size squares.

The friends took side-by-side positions as they read the menu. “Why do you put apples in the salad?” Zora asked.

“Because tomatoes have no flavor this time of year, although I toss in a few for the lycopene,” Jack said.

“What’s that?” Zora asked.

“It’s a nutrient in red fruits and vegetables,” Anya told her.

Jack nodded. “Helps prevent DNA damage, cancer and heart disease.”

“All that?” Zora responded. “Aren’t you afraid they’ll put doctors out of business?”

“Not quite yet,” he said.

Anya drifted to peer over his shoulder. The smell of disinfectant that clung to scrub nurses faded beneath her appealing blend of femininity and flowers. “Enough talk about diseases. It bothers my stomach.”

“Me, too.” Zora headed for the pantry. “A few raisins won’t spoil our dinner, right?”

“Brace for impact,” Jack murmured to Anya.

“What?” When she turned toward him, their faces were so close that he brushed a kiss over her lips. She blinked in surprise.

“Sorry.” But he wasn’t.

Zora’s squawk must have echoed through the entire house. “You rat! How dare you hide in here and spy on us.”

“Hey! Cool it.” Lucky dodged out. Seizing a broom from inside the pantry, Zora swept at his heels as if shooing vermin.

“What were you doing in the pantry?” Anya demanded.

“Eavesdropping,” Zora declared as she stuck the broom back in the closet.

“Organizing the supplies for Jack.” Lucky folded his arms, a position that made his muscles bulge.

“Is that right, Jack?” Anya asked.

He chopped the last of the dried apricots into a bowl. “Leave me out of it.”

Facing Lucky, the women planted hands on hips, mirroring each other’s body language. “No one’s buying it,” Zora said. “You’re a snoop.”

“Believe whatever you want. I have better things to do.” The male nurse fled with what dignity he could muster.

Jack tried not to be self-conscious about performing for an audience as he continued cooking. He liked having Anya there but wasn’t so keen about Zora’s presence until she said, “I sure admire what you’re doing.”

“Don’t encourage him.” Anya softened her words with a smile. “But this
is
a treat.”

“For me, too.” Jack handed her the salad bowl and gave Zora a serving plate piled with pita. “Mind putting these on the table?”

“Sure.”

Zora left, but Anya hung back. “Why would this be a treat for you? Or were you just being polite?”

Stirring the nuts and apricots into the lentil dish, Jack gave her a serious answer. “I grew up without a family. This is fun.”

“And I grew up with too much family.” She sighed. “Too bad we couldn’t have averaged it out.”

“I hope your experience hasn’t poisoned you forever.” Jack didn’t mean to lecture her. Still, this seemed like a chance to reach out. “Just because your sister tries to push you around...”

The doorbell rang. “Wonder who that is,” Anya said, scooting out.

Avoidance. Well, what had he expected?

* * *

A
WARE
THAT
Z
ORA
was wrestling with the issue of how, when and what to tell others—including her ex-husband—about her pregnancy, Anya empathized with her friend. And understood Zora’s envy of Jack’s support.

So far he’d done well, choosing a menu that even Lucky approved of. And as Jack worked smoothly in the kitchen, his blue-checked apron emphasized his strong build and easy comfort with his own body.

Definitely comfortable in his body. Ambling into the living room to find out who’d rung the bell, Anya still felt a thrill of electricity, remembering the tenderness of Jack’s stolen kiss. But despite her hunger for more, the intimate contact didn’t augur well for his promise to leave her out of the child-rearing process.

Or for her ability to stand her ground.

Karen reached the door first, admitting Rod. He’d trimmed his graying hair and foregone the usual hat. “Thanks for inviting me,” he told his hostess and gave Anya a friendly nod.

Anya wasn’t sure where she stood at the moment with Rod’s mercurial personality. Because he was a guest in the house and presumably on his best behavior around Karen, Anya supposed they’d get along well enough.

Jack peered out of the dining room, a bottle of salad dressing in one hand and a container of hummus in the other. “You invited him? No wonder you suggested I triple the recipe.”

“It didn’t seem fair to leave your uncle home alone,” Karen replied cheerfully.

“Yes, I might get into all sorts of trouble.” Rod gave her shoulders a squeeze that almost amounted to a hug.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Like an overgrown kid.”

“That’s right,” said his uncle. “I’m here at my most infantile to test your parenting skills.”

“Enjoy it while you can,” Jack answered. “You’ll have to grow up fast once—if—junior comes to live with us.”

“Junior?” Anya asked.

“Junior-ette.” In the dining room, Jack waited until the others were settled before taking the empty chair across from Anya.

“No footsy under the table,” Rod warned.

“You’re in a good mood,” Jack said to his uncle as he passed the butter to Karen.

“I just found out the girls are coming back next week for spring vacation.” Rod explained that he’d received an email from Tiffany. “Apparently they’ve been so cooperative since visiting their grandmother that their parents agreed to let them do it again.”

“That’s wonderful news,” Karen said.

“Okay if I bring them to dinner next weekend?” Rod asked. “Especially since Jack’s cooking.”

“And paying for it,” Lucky put in.

Heads bobbed agreement. “We can add a card table for extra places,” Karen said.

“Invite their grandmother, too. I’m prepared to be flexible,” Jack said.

I’m not agreeing to anything, no matter how flexible you are.
But as the words echoed in Anya’s mind, she was glad she hadn’t spoken them aloud because she’d have blushed. Jack
was
flexible in all sorts of ways that didn’t bear dwelling on.

“You don’t think this is a little too easy?” asked Melissa, who’d been quiet until now. “I mean, allowing the girls to return so soon when their parents have been completely rigid until now?”

Rod’s smile faded. “You may be right.”

“I hope their folks aren’t suspicious.” Karen plucked half a pita from the napkin-wrapped stack.

“They could create a lot of trouble if they are,” Rod said ruefully.

Speculation flowed as to what Portia and Vince might be planning. “We’ll have to be careful,” Jack said. “If they learn that Helen’s in league with you, that’ll be the end of it.”

“And Vince won’t be satisfied with a discreet win,” Rod said. “He’s a heavy-handed bully.”

Anya imagined jack-booted security troops raiding the house and yanking the girls from the dinner table. She’d been watching too many of Lucky’s macho TV programs.

“We might need a backup plan for the girls’ activities,” Karen said.

“If Vince realizes I’m involved, I doubt we’d be able to fool him.” Rod passed the salad to Melissa. “Although I appreciate the input, this discussion is making me grouchy. Let’s change the subject.”

The table fell quiet. Melissa clicked her tongue, which drew everyone’s attention. “If you guys don’t mind, I could use an objective opinion about something. Especially with Jack here.”

“What’s Jack got to do with it?” Anya asked.

“It’s his profession.” Melissa traced a slim finger over her misty water glass. “I’m facing a major decision. I have to give my answer soon and if I make the wrong choice, it will affect the rest of my life.”

That aroused Anya’s curiosity. Maybe Jack’s presence
was
a good thing for her housemates, beyond his cooking talents.

“I’ll help if I can,” he said.

Melissa’s hands fluttered gracefully. “I’ve been considering having a baby on my own because...well, never mind the background. But to deliberately bring a child into the world without a father, that troubles me. Now an opportunity has come up at work.”

“Not mentioning any identities,” Karen reminded her.

“Of course not.” Like doctors and nurses, they respected patient confidentiality.

“Go on,” Jack urged.

A woman in the fertility program had delivered healthy triplets after undergoing in vitro fertilization, Melissa explained. The patient and her husband had frozen three more embryos but decided they couldn’t handle more children. Also, after a difficult pregnancy, the mother’s health might be compromised if she tried again.

“They’re wonderful people, and their babies are darling,” she said. “I’d mentioned that I was considering artificial insemination. The mom asked... Well, she offered to let me have their embryos—on the condition that I use all of them. She’s eager to have this resolved. If I don’t implant them soon, she might choose someone else.”

“Three embryos?” Zora crossed her arms as if shielding her abdomen. “Seriously?”