Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (52 page)

“For Rod’s bed.”

Grateful for the interruption, she arrayed the tomatoes around the salad bowl. “On further reflection, it struck me as childish.”

“We’re talking about my uncle here,” Jack teased. “I have my own score to settle with that rogue. Although maybe driving my mom is punishment enough.”

“The Friday night traffic coming back from LAX must be awful.” She hoped Rod wouldn’t arrive until after their meal.

“He called to say he’ll eat dinner in L.A. to miss the worst of it.” Jack gazed down at the baking dish. “I’m supposed to marinate the fish in lime juice for a couple of hours. But it should taste fantastic anyway. Too bad I don’t have Myrna’s number so I can ask her.”

“Myrna?”

“Fellow med student.” With a half smile, he added, “I assure you, she’s happily married and not at all interested in me.”

“Doesn’t matter. If this salmon is as good as you say, I can forgive you anything.”

And it was. The fish melted in Anya’s mouth. With crusty French bread and salad, the meal proved memorable. Jack served it on his best china, a flowered set that he confirmed had once belonged to his aunt.

Anya nearly blurted that they had to give up the baby because she couldn’t bear to move away from him. Only she kept picturing Junior-ette as she’d appeared on the sonograph screen, tumbling happily in the utter safety of...

Of me. Her mom.

“I could use your help.” Jack set down his fork, and Anya realized that she wasn’t the only one in anguish.

Yanked from her reverie, she took a deep breath. “You want to talk about it now?”

“You heard what my mother said.” A muscle worked in Jack’s jaw. “She never wanted me.”

“She didn’t say that, exactly.”

“She might as well have.” He scowled. “My whole childhood, I blamed myself for her absence. I was too much trouble, too hard to take care of. Now I find out I never had a chance.”

“She does care about you, on some level,” Anya noted. “Why else did she come today?”

“Because Rod shamed her into it.” Bitterness darkened his words. “When I was a kid, she used to blow into town with an armload of presents, charming everyone. I adored her and always thought someday we’d be close. Now I know we never will.”

“What she said today hurt you.” Overwhelming as Anya’s family could be, she’d never had reason to doubt their love.

“I’m not just hurt, I’m angry.” His hands clenched into fists. “I’ve been a damn fool for clinging to her all these years when she barely makes a show of doing the right thing. Her only reaction to the ultrasound was to wonder if the baby was a boy after all. And that sculpture she brought—how could any sane person consider putting it in a crib?”

From her seat around the corner of the table, Anya cupped one of his fists with her hand. “I think she was genuinely trying to behave the way she should. But her instincts were all wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

She wasn’t sure how she understood this, but it was the only way her impressions of Mamie made sense. “Some people are tone deaf or color blind. And others have a hard time sensing emotions and gauging reactions. It’s like she had to rehearse, and she kept watching us for clues about how she should act.”

“She had to fake being a grandmother?” Jack’s forehead furrowed.

“Something like that,” Anya said. “I’m not excusing her because it’s unfair that you had to grow up the way you did. I’m guessing your grandparents weren’t real champs in the hugs and kisses department either.”

“You’re right about that.” His wrist turned and his hand clasped hers. “How could she
not
experience how miraculous it was to see the baby?”

“How can some people bliss out on a symphony that others find boring?” Anya mused. “There are women who just don’t have the maternal instinct, no matter how hard they try to fit into others’ expectations.”

He went very still. “Are you talking about yourself and our baby?”

Tell the truth, Anya.
“No.” Tears filled her eyes. “No, she is the most wonderful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Warmth and tenderness blazed as he lifted her hand and kissed it. “For me, too.”

Today they’d shared the most intimate connection of Anya’s life, even more than when they’d conceived the baby. And she longed to be closer still.

When Jack pulled her up into a hug, she tossed her napkin on the table and tilted her face for a kiss. A long, loving kiss that blossomed through her entire body.

This time, as they made their way to his bedroom, she didn’t pretend it was a momentary indulgence or anything less than the chance to claim Jack as she’d been yearning to do all along.

And never mind the consequences.

Chapter Sixteen

To Jack, Anya had always been beautiful. Tonight, in the room that too often echoed with solitude, she was radiant.

Touching her aroused him at every level. She held their baby inside this exquisite, velvety body; in her parted lips and questioning gaze he read an openness he’d never sensed in her before. And she understood him, understood his life, had just solved a fundamental mystery and identified an issue he hadn’t even grasped until today.

Treasuring her sweet natural scent, he eased off her shirt and jeans. No need for words; she never seemed to have much use for them, and for once, neither did he. Brushing her hair back from her heart-shaped face, he trailed kisses across her full mouth and ran his thumbs down her swelling breasts.

Her eager groan hardened him. When she pulled down his jeans, Jack aided her eagerly. Then he collected her onto his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed, drawing her hips down against his hardness and entering her slowly.

As they merged, he gasped from the intensity. The self-protective instincts he’d honed over a lifetime dissolved. Anya of the silent watchfulness, Anya of distances, Anya of sudden, unpredictable moods—he loved her. Wildly, despite the risk, despite the way she’d always retreated when he needed her. Now they were one.

Jack shifted his hips, and Anya eased up and down along his shaft, her dark hair screening them with a private cloud. What a joy to run his palms down her back and trace the swell of her derriere.

Ecstasy seized him. After a brief, vain struggle to resist, he let the thrill take him. He luxuriated in Anya’s moaning as they veered fast, faster, into a zone of brilliant light. Colors exploded; heat flooded him.

After an eon of pleasure, Jack wrapped his arms around Anya. “Let’s stay here forever.”

She laughed softly and rested her cheek against his neck. “Okay.”

“Or we could wait until we catch a second wind.”

“Okay.”

A chuckle welled up in him. “You’re agreeable tonight.”

Her palm caressed his cheek, rough with a day’s growth of beard. “Don’t take this personally, but you’re the sexiest man I’ve ever met.”

“Why can’t I take it personally?”

“It might go to your head,” she whispered in his ear and rubbed her soft core against him.

“And that’s a problem?” He could scarcely breathe as she reawakened his senses.

“The other nurses already fall at your feet.”

“Who cares about them?” he answered, struggling to concentrate on what he was saying. But it was a lost cause because the rest of him had become supercharged.

“That was fast,” Anya murmured.

“Let’s not waste it.” He lifted her until she slid onto him again. Then Jack rolled Anya onto the sheets. When her legs wrapped around him, he lost himself in her. The sensation of belonging was so intense, it filled him again and again, just as his body filled hers.

His climax came like the roll of a heated ocean, wave after wave beneath a fiery, liquid sky. No horizon, no limits, only a glorious shared blaze.

In an aftermath like a summer sunset, Jack held Anya among the tangled sheets. “I love you.” He let the words linger for only a second before he said, “Did I mention that I love you?”

“Twice.”

“As many times as we made love,” he teased.

She nuzzled him without speaking. She hadn’t responded that she loved him, too, but then, Anya wasn’t the type to blurt something like that out on impulse.

While she was thinking it over, Jack decided to go for broke. “Marry me,” he said.

* * *

G
ROWING
UP
,
Anya had instinctively censored her own wishes and interests, her mind echoing with her father’s imagined disapproval.
So her dream—and increasingly urgent need—had become to truly be herself, independent and free of intrusive criticism and judgment.

Now, her love for Jack nearly smothered that need. Oh, how she yearned to shout “Yes!” and transform into the bride doll atop the wedding cake. To lie beside him every night, to share the precious moments as their baby grew, to talk earnestly and to sit silently, always and forever.

A fine fantasy. Reality had a nasty way of intruding, though.

And now she had to choose: take what her heart wanted or insist on what her soul demanded. How could she give Jack up, especially now that he’d trusted her with his future? After the emotional desertion Jack had suffered from his mother, after the betrayal he’d seen devastate his uncle, he was still willing to reach out to her.

“Anya?” Jack propped himself on one elbow. Half covered by a sheet, the man was spectacular. Rather than the bulked-up build of a jock, he had a solid, well-muscled strength coupled with the delicate skills of a surgeon.

She had to stop thinking such things. Or did she?

“I love you, too.” Anya took a shaky breath.

A relieved smile curved his mouth. “Was that so difficult?”

“Huh.”

“I guess that’s a yes.” His forefinger tapped the tip of her nose. “Now say yes to the other part.”

Marry me.
“I can’t,” she said miserably.

His muscles stiffened. “Can’t or won’t?”

“Marriage is too big a step.” Did they have to go that far, involving the rest of the world in their private business? Maybe they could meet in the middle. “I have an alternate proposal.”

Skepticism warred with hope in his expression. “Shoot.”

“Let’s live together.” That wasn’t the same, Anya knew, but she forged on. “Plenty of people do.” And if they weren’t married, he’d have no right to assume he owned her. Not that Jack acted bossy now, but marriage changed people. A nurse she’d worked with in Denver had been deliriously happy after her honeymoon, only to be stunned at how demanding her bridegroom soon became about her cooking, her spending habits and her occasional girls’ nights out.

“Live together for how long?” Jack asked warily.

She hadn’t considered that. “To raise the baby.”

“Twenty years?” His tone was dubious.

“That sounds about right.”

“What if we decide to have a second child?”

Anya clapped her hands against the sides of her head. “Honestly, Jack!”

“It wasn’t a joke. You’re refusing to commit to me or to a family,” he accused.

“I refuse to be boxed into a role,” she countered. “Taken for granted. Assigned to childcare for the duration.”

Sitting up against the headboard, Jack blew out a frustrated breath, then folded his arms. Was he angry? She couldn’t tell.

“I
am
willing to make a commitment.” Anya sat up, too. “Only not the formal, public kind. I love you, Jack. I’ll never love anybody else.” She was growing teary again, darn it. “But you’re a powerful guy, the lord of the operating room. You might get full of yourself. Don’t argue. You’ll start taking for granted that you’re my boss at home, too. And I can’t bear that.”

He studied her. “Marriage scares you.”

“You could say that.” She bit her lip before adding, “Does it have to be all or nothing?”

“You know my family history.”

Yes, she did. And he knew hers. “Marriage is no guarantee of permanence.”

“Hmm.” The cryptic response was maddening.
Like the cryptic responses I usually make.

“I’ll communicate better, I promise,” she volunteered.

He still didn’t answer. Anya leaned back. He’d allowed her to think things over, and she had to do the same.

* * *

A
BEAUTIFUL
A
NYA
strolling down the aisle in a white dress, the moment when he slid the ring onto her finger, the celebration with their friends and family—all recorded to enjoy when they were old. Such things mattered. Most of all, Jack craved the vow to always be there for each other. How could he accept anything less?

Glancing at her sweet little face—knowing how stubborn she could be, but also how funny and warm—his heart squeezed. He loved her. She loved him, too. Anya had said so straight out, and she never babbled easy words.

It all boiled down to trust, Jack reflected. And whether this was a risk worth taking.

Would
she stick with him? If they faced serious medical issues or a financial crisis, would the absence of marriage vows make a difference? He suspected it might. But he understood, too, what a wedding represented to Anya.

They each had to trust the other. In the meantime, they both had to give a little, too. “Okay,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“On one condition.”

Now
her
arms folded, making them a matched set. “What’s that?”

“Relationships hit rough patches—it’s inevitable,” Jack pointed out. “I have to be sure you won’t run for the hills when that happens.”

“I promise,” she said.

“Prove it.”

She looked startled. “How?”

“Face up to your family.” As her jaw dropped, he added, “I’ll go with you, if you want.”

She averted her gaze. “It’s next weekend.”

“So?” He’d clear his schedule. If any of his patients couldn’t wait, Zack Sargent owed him a favor, and he suspected Owen Tartikoff would fill in, too, when he heard the reason.

“They’ll all be there—my parents, my siblings, my cousins,” Anya said. “We should wait for a better occasion.”

“Not good enough.” He hated to push her. If she balked, they’d be back to square one. But their confused instincts—his to mistrust, hers to duck tough issues—were the greatest enemy to their future. “You’re stronger than you think, Anya, but you have to believe that, or every time we argue, I’ll wonder if I’m going to come home to an empty house.”

“I wouldn’t do that!”

“Are you sure?”

She swallowed. “Jack...”

He touched her hair, wondering what he’d do if she refused. “Hmm?”

She appeared to be thinking hard. “I’m not ready to answer you.”

“As you mentioned, the gathering’s next weekend, and I’ll have to cancel appointments,” he reminded her.

“Give me twenty-four hours,” she said.

They were both getting a lot of practice at compromising, Jack mused. “Done.”

Her smile flashed, lighting up the room. Then she snuggled closer, and he was grateful for this truce, however long it lasted.

* * *

A
NYA
HAD
LEFT
by the time Rod came home. Jack refrained from mentioning her visit, although his uncle couldn’t miss the smell of his cooking and probably picked up other clues. The man was like a bloodhound.

Jack had no tolerance for his uncle’s prodding. His nerves were strung taut because his future was being decided inside Anya’s unpredictable brain.

Rod stuck a chunk of French bread into the toaster oven. “I’ve missed having leftovers.”

“I thought you ate dinner.” Jack loitered in the kitchen doorway.

“I grabbed a quick burger.” His uncle finger combed his hair.

“At the airport?”

“Nearby,” Rod explained. “Mamie didn’t want me to park, so I dropped her and her luggage at the curb. I presume she got off okay.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s a seasoned traveler.” Jack never worried about his mother.

Rod laced his fingers on the table. “I owe you an apology.”

“For inviting her?”

He gave an embarrassed nod. “I figured this would be a watershed moment for my sister. Instead, she kept chattering about how great you looked, how nice Anya is and the marvels of modern technology. The woman saw her first grandchild in action and she didn’t have a word to say about it. Oh, except for asking what I thought about naming her Lenore.”

Jack chuckled. “What did you say?”

“I said that’s your and Anya’s decision.” Rod regarded him with a puzzled frown. “You don’t seem upset.”

“About what?” Mamie was the last thing on Jack’s mind.

“She owes you something,” his uncle said. “An apology for dumping you on our parents like a pet poodle. Now that it’s her turn to be a grandmother, she ought to act like one.”

“And you even missed the best part,” Jack replied. “She told Anya she scarcely remembers being pregnant with me, that my father was much more excited about it than she was.”

Rod smacked his forehead. “Jack, I’m sorry.”

“Since you’re the only relative I can rely on, I forgive you.”

A groan greeted this response. “You couldn’t rely on me this time. I let you down. I overestimated my sister.”

Jack shrugged. “Just because a person becomes a biological parent doesn’t mean she has nurturing instincts.” He recalled Anya’s insight. “Just as some people are tone deaf or color blind, others can’t handle intimacy.”

The toaster bell rang. Rod plucked out the hot bread. “That’s borderline profound. Is this Anya’s influence?”

“Yes.”

“I underestimated your girlfriend. On average, I came out even.” His uncle spread butter thickly. “Mind fetching that jar of preserves you hide in the lettuce bin?”

“I didn’t think you ever opened the lettuce bin.”

“Only when I’m searching for where you hide the preserves,” Rod said.

Yielding to the inevitable, Jack went to oblige.

* * *

W
HEN
A
NYA
GOT
home, she found her housemates in the den, sharing a bottle of sparkling apple juice. If they noticed her tangled hair—she’d misplaced the brush she usually kept in her purse—they had the tact not to comment.

“Big day!” Melissa announced. “I don’t suppose Jack said anything to you about it.”

Said anything about what? So much had happened that Anya couldn’t sort through it all. “Jack doesn’t discuss his patients with me, if that’s what you mean.”

“Melissa was implanted,” Karen said. “With three embryos.”

“Congratulations.” Anya remembered the earlier dinner-table discussion. “Isn’t Zack Sargent your doctor?”

“Stricken with a sudden illness.” Lucky angled back the recliner, which he was hogging, as usual. “Stomach flu, I hear.”

Was there any gossip too minor to escape his radar? Anya wondered.

“I’m on pins and needles!” Ordinarily the calmest member of the household, Melissa fidgeted on the sofa. “I have to wait another week before I can take a pregnancy test.”