McCallum Quintuplets (14 page)

“Then until I work the rusty kinks out, we'll trade and she can handle first, and I'll be second.” He didn't want the responsibility of missing a catch that would stop a
batter from going past first base. He figured second would be less pressure, less chance of letting the team down.

“Already taking charge.”

“It's called zeroing in on what's important, solving a problem and following through. It's the best course of action.”

She saluted him, smartly touching two fingers to the brim of her cap, and jogged to the field.

To the pitcher's mound.

A pitcher? Now he
really
had to prove himself. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to compete with her, but he did.

Damn, that woman intrigued him.

After exchanging his polo shirt for a Bears T-shirt, he took his position at second base because they'd lost the toss and the other team was up to bat. During warm-up, he practiced throwing the ball and catching it when Carrie Anne fired it back. When the ball went to third, then to Annabelle at the pitcher's mound then immediately to him, he nearly missed it.

She had a good arm. His palm was burning plenty. He put some muscle behind it and fired the ball to the catcher. It went wide, and Jolene had to snatch her face mask off and dive for it.

Everyone looked at him as if to say, “I hope you can do better than that, bud.” He grinned and stared back. So the ball went wide. He was rusty. He'd get the hang of it, by damn.

He didn't get a lot of practice in that round because the other team only managed two hits off Annabelle. Both were pop flies that were outs. The other batter struck out.

He grinned when Annabelle licked her finger and brushed it to the seat of her jeans in a touch-me-I'm-hot
gesture, then smacked hands with her stepmother in a high five.

Instead of lining up in batting order with the rest of the team, he jogged off the field and scooted next to Annabelle. “I'm impressed.”

“Well, I hope to shout.”

He sputtered on a laugh. “Weren't you the one maligning my big ego the other day? Seems yours is a pretty good match.”

“See there? Something in common. I bet if we pay attention we'll learn we have even more in common.”

“Annabelle,” he warned.

“What? I didn't say either one of our off-limits words. But
obviously,
Zachary, you're
thinking
them. Behave and cheer me on. I'm up to bat.”

He had some trouble keeping his eye on the ball and off Annabelle's sexy rear end. When the bat cracked, her family went wild, jumping and whooping. Sabra grabbed him and danced him in a circle, screaming in his ear. He swiveled his head, trying to keep his eye on the play, and began yelling just as loud when she kept running the bases, finally sticking at third. A triple. Pretty darn good.

“Isn't she wonderful?” Sabra asked, beaming.

“Yes.”

“Are you her boyfriend?”

“Uh, no. We work together.”

“Too bad. You're pretty cute.”

She danced off, left him standing there feeling his ears burn.

 

C
ELEBRATING
their five-to-two win, the Teddy Bears went for pizza. As the newest team member—and because he was dependent on Annabelle for a ride—Zach went along with them.

“You did pretty good, slugger,” he commented when Annabelle swung a leg over the bench seat and sat down beside him with a pitcher of soda.

“So did you.”

“I struck out.”

“Only the one time. You redeemed yourself when you hit that grounder and brought me home. You got us the winning run.”

“I guess I did.” That perked him up a bit. Suddenly he was famished. The smell of garlic and pizza sauce filled his senses. When Annabelle turned her head to speak to her stepmother, her sassy ponytail whipped him in the face, carrying the scent of apples to mingle with the rest of the aromas in the room.

He sat and watched the interaction between Annabelle and her family, amazed at the love, the laughter, the easiness. There was no formality, no rules, no admonishments for bad manners or talking out of turn. It was a free-for-all, everyone vying to tell their story above the din in the already noisy pizzeria.

Zach had gotten so used to wealth, to four-star restaurants, to solitude, to a housekeeper and a cook.

The emotion that suddenly swamped him was loneliness. He'd never recognized it before.

Annabelle poured them each a glass of soda, patted him on the thigh. “Don't talk so much, Zach.”

He shook his head, enchanted. Yes, dammit, he was enchanted.

“You know, that's the first time I've played baseball since I was a little boy,” he admitted.

“You're kidding. You didn't play in high school?”

“No. I was too busy making money as a kid, and by the time I got to high school, there wasn't time for sports in between studies and the stock market.”

“Good night, you played the stock market?”

“I was an enterprising young man. Actually, it all started with my paper route when I was ten. I made pretty good money but figured I could do a lot better if I had more than one route and hired a couple of kids to work them.”

“Did your parents know you were running a business and investing in the market before you'd even reached puberty?”

“I was pretty close to puberty when I started trading. And no, I didn't tell them. I was afraid they'd stop me, and I was determined to amass enough money to pay for my education. I knew what I wanted to do with my life, knew it would be expensive, and I didn't want my parents to have to foot the bill for it. They were fairly well off, but not rich. And even as a boy of ten, when I got my first paper route, I wanted to make my own way.”

“That took a lot of single-minded determination.”

“When you reach for a goal, you go all out. No matter what it takes.”

Annabelle scooted her soda on the resin-coated table, watching the watery ring that smeared in its wake.

She had a couple of goals of her own, but right now they seemed unattainable. Perhaps she should adapt to Zach's way of thinking.

But how did one go about thinking positively about a body that was flawed, a body that would likely never produce children, when children were what she wanted most in this world?

“You told me your dad died. How old were you?”

“Right before I entered college. That's the only thing that could have deterred me. I offered to put my plans on hold, stay home. I hated to leave my mom and sister at a
time like that when we were all still healing. I felt like I was leaving them in the lurch. But they insisted I go.”

“And I'm sure they got along fine.”

“Yes. Mom's flower shop does well for her.” He grinned. “But I do have a tendency to think I control the universe.”

“That you do. Someday, someone's going to jerk that rug from beneath you.” It would probably be a woman. And it would break Annabelle's heart to sit by and watch, knowing she wasn't the right woman for him, knowing she would never be able to offer him a whole, fulfilled life.

“Hey, slugger.” He tipped her chin up. “Where'd you go?”

“Daydreaming again.”

“Didn't look like a very happy one to me.”

She bumped his shoulder with hers, gave him a sassy smile. “Maybe I was just trying not to break our rules.”

“
Now
who's thinking about it. Accuse me, will you,” he said with mock indignation.

She laughed. “Okay, we're even. Sheesh, you are so competitive.”

Zach was different today, more relaxed and teasing, more forthcoming. He'd opened up to her, given her a glimpse into the boy he'd been, the life that had shaped the man.

And with each word that passed through his sculpted lips, each smile and crease of that intriguing dimple, each gentle, teasing look from those deep brown eyes, Annabelle found herself falling. Falling into him.

Falling for him.

 

M
ONDAY AFTERNOON
, Annabelle knocked on Madeline Russell's door, then poked her head inside.

“Do you have a minute, Madeline?”

“Sure, come on in. Paperwork. I hate it. I'd much rather be doing sonograms and telling happy couples they're going to be parents at last.”

Annabelle sat in the chair in front of Madeline's desk. “That's sort of why I'm here.”

“You're pregnant?”

“No! Heavens, no.” She sighed. “You know my medical history.”

“Yes.”

“And the chances of me getting pregnant the normal way are slim, right?”

“Slim, yes…but not out of the question.”

Annabelle smiled softly. “I'm okay with this, Madeline. You don't have to soft-pedal with me.”

“I'm sorry.”

Annabelle felt like her problem was a catch-22. If she were to actively try for pregnancy through the normal channels with a man, it would have to be in a committed relationship. Perhaps an older man? Someone who already had kids of his own?

That left Zach out.

Still, she wouldn't mind being a stepparent to someone else's children. Her stepmother was an excellent role model. Then if she got pregnant by some miracle, it would be a bonus.

But she had no prospects like that on the horizon, and that's why she'd impulsively shown up in Madeline's office this afternoon.

“What about artificial insemination or in-vitro fertilization? I still have the one ovary.” Plus scar tissue on her Fallopian tube.

Madeline shifted her long black hair behind her shoulders. She wore a blue silk tunic over matching slacks. It
was an outfit Annabelle had helped her pick out when she and April had insisted on giving their friend a makeover.

“Annabelle, you're in the industry and you know how the fertility process works. The chance of multiple births is high, especially in a case like yours. In order to give you the best odds, we'd have to implant several eggs, and even then there's no guarantee.”

“I know the odds.”

“And you know the risks, as well. Do you really want to tackle multiple babies as a young single parent? Or is there a man in your life I don't know about?”

“There's no man.” And no, she
wasn't
sure she wanted to tackle this alone—though she was suddenly getting annoyed that her age had become such an issue.

Her shoulders slumped. “No. I don't want to go through this alone. But doggone it, Madeline, I desperately want to feel whole.”

Madeline was out of her chair and around the desk in a flash, putting her arms around Annabelle.

The compassion was too much. The ache in her throat swelled, the scars from Pete's accusation bubbling up like a cauldron, ending in a sob.

Years of giving, of being strong, of losing her mother, losing her womanhood, poured out in a rush of emotions as her friend held her in her arms.

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I don't cry.”

“Shh,” Madeline soothed. “I know you don't. We all lean on you because you're so strong. You just lean on me for a minute or two. We'll figure something out, Annabelle. We won't give up.”

In the meantime, any chance she might have had to honestly pursue Zachary Beaumont for the long term was lost to her.

Lost in the uncertainty of her body's ability to perform as God had intended it to.

Zach paused beside his car in the hospital parking lot, started to open the door, then pocketed the keys. Annabelle, arms crossed as though she was cold—when it was a muggy eighty-five degrees out—walked slowly across the asphalt lot heading for the street.

She looked like she'd lost her best friend.

He shouldn't get involved. Dammit, his life had been fine before he'd learned the histories of everyone around him. Especially Annabelle's. This was just what he'd been trying to steer clear of.

Involvement.

It only took a few ground-eating steps to cross her path.

She jerked her head up, gasped. “You gave me a start.”

“You seemed lost in thought. You okay?”

She shrugged. “Sure.”

“Where's your truck?”

“I walked.”

“Into exercise, hmm?”

“It's that pear thing.”

He shook his head, glanced at her derriere. “I'm looking, slugger, and I sure don't see it. Come on, I'll give you a ride before you ruin a good thing.”

She grinned. “Why, Zachary, are you complimenting my rear end?”

“Yes. And don't go making anything of it, either. A friend can comment on another friend's backside.”

He draped an arm around her shoulders and steered her to his car, opening the passenger door and waiting until she was seated before jogging around to the driver's side.

He didn't have any business feeling energized just because Annabelle Reardon was sitting in the leather seat of his Mercedes in her tight jeans and tank top and looking like she belonged exactly there.

He started the car, then paused. Before he thought better of it, he said, “I'm due at my sister's for dinner. Would you want to come?”

“Oh, I couldn't just drop in as an unexpected dinner guest.”

She'd given him an out. He should have taken it. But the forlorn look that had been on her face moments ago brought out his protective instincts. If she was upset about something, she shouldn't have to go home alone—to solitude. He'd done that often enough himself.

“Mitzy won't care. I'll call her on my cell phone and warn her, if it'll make you feel better. Besides, you made me have pizza with your family. You owe me.”

“Are you saying it was a bad experience?”

“No. No, I enjoyed it. I liked your family. Owe was the wrong word. Turnabout is fair play is more like it.”

“Ah, we're back to competition. You're still miffed that I hit a triple and you struck out.”

“You forget I redeemed myself with that grounder to center field.”

“So you did. I'd love to meet your sister and nieces. I was only going home to a bowl of cold cereal, anyway.”

“Cereal. And you being a nurse. You need a balanced meal.”

“Probably. I get lazy sometimes. Too pooped to cook.”

He didn't have that problem. His cook prepared a meal every night. All he had to do was sit down and eat. Then someone else cleared the table, did his wash, changed his sheets, kept the house straight and clean.

In addition to working all day, Annabelle went home to chores and doing for herself. It made him feel good that he was taking some of her burdens away tonight.

He just wished he knew what had caused the light to dim in those expressive eyes. The desolation he'd seen when she'd looked at him in the parking lot had worried him.

She was much too gregarious, much too sweet, to slip into that kind of sadness.

Did he have something to do with it? He'd been busy today with rounds and a conference. Since he hadn't had any surgeries scheduled, he hadn't seen much of Annabelle. Had she thought he was avoiding her again?

He enjoyed her company. Too much.

Now the question was, could he be her friend without wanting to take it further?

 

S
IPPING COFFEE
in Mitzy's kitchen, Zach watched Annabelle play with his nieces. Without a qualm, she sat right down on the floor with the girls after dinner to play some card game he'd never heard of, breaking up arguments that erupted and laughing with them.

She had a quality about her he found puzzling and refreshing. She could play and be a kid, but there was a line no one crossed. Both authority and love radiated from her. Her brother and sisters were very lucky to have had her when they were growing up.

“You've never brought a woman home to meet us before,” Mitzi commented quietly beside him.

“Don't go reading anything into it, Sis. She's just a colleague.”

“You don't look at her like a colleague.”

“She's too young for me.”

Mitzi snorted. “I'm eleven years younger than Bill. You're talking to the wrong person about age difference. We've got a storybook marriage.”

“That's different.”

“How?”

He didn't know. “Let it go, Sis.”

“You know, one of these days that stubborn ‘I'm always right' penchant you have is going to come back to bite you in the butt. You're going to realize you've been so focused on doing what you think is right that you've lost track when the cause is lost. It's not the age difference you're worried about. I hope it's not too late when you figure that out.”

“You through analyzing me?”

“For tonight. I reserve the right to nag you again tomorrow.”

He chuckled and stepped into the living room.

“Okay, girls, let my surgical nurse go. She's got to get up early in the morning and help me deliver babies.”

“Aww, Uncle Zach, please. Just one more game.”

He kissed each girl on the head and ruffled their hair. “Nope, I'm not falling for that ‘Uncle Zach, please' stuff. I'm heartless tonight. It's not even beating.”

“Let me see,” Michelle said, leaping up to put her ear to his chest. Ashley and Rachael crowded around trying to horn in and get a listen.

Zach wrapped his arms around the three girls and lifted all of them at the same time, eliciting shrieks and giggles.

“Help,” he begged, looking at Annabelle.

“You look strong enough to get out of that yourself. Besides, you started it.”

“I changed my mind. I've got a healthy heart. It's Annabelle who's heartless.”

The girls all giggled, but still clung to him like monkeys.

“I'm forever rescuing the man,” she complained with a laugh. “Come on, girls. Give Uncle Zach some sugar and let him get me home. We have teeny-tiny babies to bring into the world and we can't be blurry-eyed from lack of sleep or we might forget and leave one of them in its mama's tummy.”

Amazingly, they slid down his legs, obeying immediately, kissing him, then running to Annabelle and treating her to kisses, as well.

“Uncle Zach wouldn't really leave a baby in somebody's tummy, would he?” Ashley asked.

“I'm pretty sure he wouldn't do such a thing. He's the very best baby doctor. But we shouldn't chance it, should we?”

All three girls shook their heads.

Affronted that she'd even suggest such a thing, Zach was slightly appeased when she complimented his doctoring.

“Thanks for letting me intrude uninvited to dinner,” Annabelle said to Mitzy. “I know it was tacky, but your brother can be a bit stubborn when he sets his mind to it.”

“A bit?” Mitzy laughed. “That's an understatement.”

Annabelle winked. “Most of the time I'm a fairly good match for that stubbornness.”

Mitzy gave her a direct, woman-to-woman look, knowing full well Zach was watching and listening. “Yes,”
she said softly. “I think you might just be a match for him.” She reached out and hugged Annabelle. “I'm so happy to have met you. You come again, hear?”

“Thank you for the invite. I'd love to.”

“You know, it's not nice to whisper,” Zach said, giving his sister a dark look.

“We weren't whispering.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, and bent to give Mitzy a kiss. “Thanks for dinner, Sis.”

He held the car door while Annabelle got settled, then went around to the driver's side. Cicadas sang in the trees, sounding obscenely loud in the stillness of the country. Zach rolled up the power windows, and the climate-controlled air-conditioning unit blew cool air against his overheated skin. The tightly sealed doors shut out the sound of the harmonizing insects as though he'd pushed the power-off button on a stereo.

Pitch darkness surrounded them. This far out in the country, there were no streetlights to illuminate the way. Only the beams of his headlights and the green and amber lights of his dash.

“How do you do that?” he asked when they were on the highway.

“Do what?”

“Get kids to mind you so well?”

She laughed. “Years of practice. I might look like a softie, but my sisters said I had a certain look that made them feel guilty as all get-out and they'd hop to because they didn't want to disappoint me—or find out what I'd do if I lost my temper.”

“You have a temper?”

“I don't think so. I'm pretty easygoing. Fussing upsets me, so I try to steer clear of it—or find a solution to fix it before it gets out of hand.”

“Sometimes arguing is healthy.”

She shrugged. “It makes me a wreck.”

“So, are you one of those people who says yes when they really mean no?”

“No…yes…” She sighed. “Sometimes. I enjoy doing for others, but I do have my limits. It's taken me a while to set them, but I've managed.”

“Mmm, in your advanced years.”

He saw her blond hair swing as she jerked to look at him. “I'll pit my fairly well-adjusted psyche against your set-in-your-ways stubbornness any day of the week.”

“Okay. I take it back. You have a bite.”

She laughed. “That's twice tonight you've accused me of being scary.”

“How do you figure?”

“Keeping the girls in line and biting.”

“Your point.” He could practically hear her thought.
Competitive.
He smiled in the darkness.

He usually drove in silence after a date, tuning out the chatter of his seatmate as she talked about so-and-so's dress or gossiped about who was cheating on whom or the latest catty list of cosmetic-surgery touch-ups.

This wasn't a date, though. It absolutely wasn't. It was two friends having dinner at his sister's house. Still, Annabelle engaged him, made him laugh, made him come alive.

When he pulled up in front of her apartment, he suddenly flashed on the last time he'd taken her home. By the slow, full smile on her face, she was remembering, too.

She raised a brow. “Want to come in?”

He shook his head. Damn, but he liked her sass. “I've got charts to review.”

She opened the door and hopped out of the car, then taunted over her shoulder, “Chicken.”

She didn't look back, but he knew she was grinning. He waited until she'd gone inside, then put the car in gear and drove away.

No one had ever called him a chicken. They wouldn't dare.

Yet Annabelle had just hit the nail on the head. He
was
chicken. Scared right down to his toes to be alone with her. She wrecked his self-control.

Nobody had
ever
wrecked his self-control. He hadn't thought it was possible.

 

A
WEEK LATER
, Annabelle was getting frustrated. Zach was out of town a lot, and when he was in the hospital, he was so busy, they hardly ever spoke.

She'd filled her free time with family and friends, but she was restless.

And she'd gone on a baking spree last night.

On her break, she went into the lounge. Brad Stallings looked up from where he sat, moaning over a bite of chocolate cake.

“You made this,” he said, his hazel eyes filled with worship.

“Sure did. It's called Better Than Sex cake.”

He groaned again. “Marry me and run away with me.”

She laughed and sat down, trying to decide if she wanted to get a soda. One of the doctors was leaning into the open refrigerator, so she decided to wait.

Brad scooted his chair next to hers, his widespread knees nearly touching hers. “Seriously, Annabelle. I want to go out with you.”

“Going out and marrying are two different things. Make up your mind.”

“I'll settle for dinner,” he said.

She realized he was serious. It dawned on her that she'd never given Brad a chance because of the crush she'd carried in her heart for Zachary Beaumont.

What the heck, she thought. Zach wasn't budging from this friendship-pact thing. Might as well have a night out with a nice man instead of sitting at home pining.

Besides, Brad did meet her requirements. He had children of his own. He wasn't commitment shy even though he'd been divorced. He'd told her himself he was the homebody type, and his ex-wife had been the one who'd wanted to gallivant. He was young and good-looking. And they'd never lacked for something to talk about.

“Dinner sounds good, Brad.”

“Great. Maybe I can talk you out of that Better Than Sex recipe.”

The refrigerator door slammed, rattling bottles of soda. Annabelle looked up.

Right into Zachary Beaumont's dark brown eyes.

With a bottle of water in his hand, he nodded to them both and left the lounge.

Brad didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

Annabelle's adrenaline was pumping like a screaming heart monitor.

Darn him, acting like a dog in the manger when he'd been practically ignoring her. Was he jealous?
Well, hmm.
That could be advantageous.

She took a breath, decided to let the chips fall where they may. “What time?” she asked Brad.

“Seven o'clock? I'll pick you up at your place.”

“Do you need the address?”

He gave her a sheepish grin. “I looked it up.”

“Shame on you. I'll see you at seven.”