The Doctor's Pregnant Bride? (10 page)

Friend
. The word sounded like a death knell on the heels of her realizing she wanted more from him. Friend? What marked the difference for him between friend and girlfriend?

And, really, what made her think she felt more? The heat of the moment, probably. Best sex of her life, too.

Friend
. That probably was a much truer definition.

“Same here,” she said, feeling him tense up as he waited for her to say something in return. “I can’t think of anyone else I could work and play with without problems occurring in at least one of the situations.”

“I’ll be right back.” He rolled out of bed, disappeared into the bathroom.

Sara Beth untangled the sheet to cover herself, was just getting comfortable when he came walking back in
all his naked glory. Yes, he was lean and lanky, but he didn’t lack for muscles, either, and he had long, sturdy legs and a broad chest tapering to narrow hips. All that wonderful masculinity in one gorgeous package, one he knew how to use to bring unmatched pleasure.

He lifted the sheet and climbed in, settling on his side, resting his head on his hand, staring at her for so long she ran a hand over her mouth. “Do I have birthday cake on my face?”

He laughed. “You are a complete surprise, Sara Beth.”

“In a good way?”

“In an exceptional way.” He brushed her hair from her face. “I’ve been watching you for months. No,
admiring
you for months. I’ve listened to Chance praise your professionalism. I’ve seen you being competent yet kind. I know you have a depth of sympathy and empathy that make you a good nurse. When Lisa said you were going to be helping us, I was glad and relieved. Professional, competent, sympathetic and empathetic. That was good enough. But sexy, too? You’re a fascinating woman.”

Fascinating friend, you mean. And you have a date with an old girlfriend tomorrow night
. “There’s more to you than I first thought, too,” she said, sidestepping the issue of Tricia. And parental wishes to procreate—with one of his own kind, Sara Beth was sure.

“So, size does matter?” His grin was wide, his eyes alight with humor.

“That falls into the category of bonus.”

The phone rang. He ignored it, although he also
looked uncomfortable, since it would go to his answering machine, which she would also be able to hear.

“You can pick it up,” she said, feeling sorry for him—until Tricia’s voice came on the line, her nasally voice distinctive.

“Hey, Chip. Just wanted to send you birthday greetings on the actual day. I’m really looking forward to tomorrow. Your mom said you got your place decorated, so maybe I could meet you there and see it before we head out? We have lots of catching up to do—in more ways than one. Ciao.”

Sara Beth pulled the sheet a little higher. Tricia’s voice had a tantalizing edge to it, as if she had in mind an evening of unwrapping a special present of her own for him, too. It tarnished everything that had just happened with Ted.

She tried to keep her voice level. “Chip?”

“After the singing cartoon chipmunk, Theodore.”

“Was that your nickname as a kid?” It sounded like a Boston royalty nickname—Chip, Muffy, Miffy, Trey.

Ted looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Not in general, no.” He cupped her shoulder. “She’s just a friend.”

“Like me.” She couldn’t hold it in any longer. She didn’t want to be just his friend, not if Tricia had the same significance. She started to climb out of bed, but he stopped her.

“You’re more than that,” he said.

“Am I? In what way?”

Confusion crossed his face. “I’m sleeping with you.”

“Friends with benefits?” She hated that term. It
turned sex into something almost meaningless, just satisfying a physical need, nothing else.

“Works for me.”

She’d gotten herself into this situation. He hadn’t said he felt more for her, so she only had herself to blame.

The problem was, she was jealous of Tricia Trahearn. She’d never been jealous before—or had to share before. She didn’t want to start now.

She made herself sound light and unconcerned. “So. Are we going to dinner? I’m starved.” She didn’t really want to sit across a table from him right now, either, but it was a better alternative to giving up more of herself to him without getting enough in return.

He was quiet for several seconds. “You’re upset.”

“I’m hungry.” She got out of bed, uncomfortable at first, then deciding to let him see what he would be missing in the future—because she wasn’t going to sleep with him again. No friends with benefits for her.

She had to dig through bedding to find all her clothes, then she dressed as he watched, feeling her cheeks heat up but ignoring it. She found the tote she’d brought, pulled out her brush and went into the bathroom, shutting the door. She leaned against the vanity, stared into the mirror, seeing splotches of color in her usually pale cheeks. Her lips were a little swollen from being kissed thoroughly and well.

She soaked a washcloth with cold water, pressed it to her face, her eyes stinging.
Idiot
. The word rang and rang in her head as she brushed her hair and fixed her makeup. Somehow she needed to find a way to smile,
not to let him know how it mattered that he only considered her a friend. It wasn’t his fault that her expectations were higher than his ability to meet.

She wasn’t a match for him, anyway, their places in the world too vastly different from each other.

He was waiting in the living room, standing at his window, watching the lights. He turned. He’d dressed in his more typical dark slacks and white shirt, but also a muted tie. He still hadn’t gotten his hair cut, and it curled over his collar. Tall, dark and gorgeous indeed.

He walked toward her, stopped a foot away, close enough to touch but not doing so. His eyes were filled with concern. She smiled. He really was a good person, which was why she’d fallen for him. But she couldn’t make him feel the same as she did, no matter how much she wished it.

“I’m sorry,” she said, needing the discomfort between them to end. “I was being prickly for no good reason. It all happened so suddenly, you know? I needed a few minutes to figure it out.”

“You regret what happened?”

“No.”

He hesitated. “Are you still hungry?”

She wasn’t sure how to take that. Hungry for food or him? “Yes,” she said, since both possibilities were true. Let him figure it out.

“Do you have all your stuff?”

She pointed toward the elevator, where her tote bag sat.

“Okay, then.”

She didn’t know what they would talk about over
dinner, but they managed to spend the next couple of hours doing just that, talking, finding ease with each other again. Then when they arrived at her house, he didn’t argue with her when she said she didn’t need him to walk her to her door.

He kissed her cheek before she got out of the car. “Thank you.”

She didn’t want clarification of what for. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

“Yeah.”

“Good night, Ted.”

“Good night.”

As soon as she made it into her apartment, she turned on lights. Lots of lights. She had no intention of wallowing. She only hated admitting her mother was right. Now she would have to see Ted every day at work, knowing how it felt having him make love to her. Knowing her emotions were wrapped up in him, but not his in her.

She would recover. Time was her friend. Distance, too. They would stop working together directly soon.

But deep down she knew the memory of this night would stay close to her heart.

T
he next night, Ted watched Tricia wander around his loft, offering her opinion about every piece, recommending changes here and there. He hadn’t let her meet him here, but picked her up and drove her to dinner at a restaurant she’d chosen, one where they’d run into several old friends. She’d paid for the meal, her birthday present, she’d said.

Some things just felt wrong to him, and having a woman pay for his meal was one of them, no matter how successful she was.

This felt wrong, too, having Tricia here in his space. Sara Beth’s space. Sara Beth was the one to recommend the casual seating by the front window, a place he was drawn to more and more, where he
could enjoy the view as he relaxed, morning or evening. Yet Tricia thought there should be a larger table, and seating for four, that the scale was somehow off.

Maybe it was. He had no idea about such things. But he liked the coziness of the two chairs, and a table small enough to hold only a couple of small plates and mugs. Tricia hadn’t thought much of the throw laid across the bottom of his bed, declaring the faux fur passé.

Perhaps she was also right about that, but it felt luxurious under his fingers. Sara Beth had noticed how he had fingered it at the store and said he just had to have it. So now he did, and he didn’t care whether it was passé or not. He had plans for it in front of the fireplace with a certain sexy girl-next-door type head nurse.

His bedroom walls were painted a deep, rich brown now, too, which felt strong and masculine to him, something else Tricia questioned the wisdom of.

“Aren’t you going to offer me a nightcap?” she asked. She wore a dress as low cut as Sara Beth’s the night before, except Tricia’s was look-at-me purple.

“What’s your pleasure? Coffee? Brandy? Wine?”

“Brandy, thanks.” She eased onto a bar stool as Ted went behind the kitchen counter. “I had a good time tonight.”

“Me, too,” he said, meaning it. They’d taken a trip down memory lane. He’d forgotten some events, wanted to forget others, and could never forget some, as well. As the top two brainiacs in their high school, they’d shared a unique bond.

He passed her a small snifter, poured one for himself, but leaned against the kitchen counter rather than suggesting they sit in the living room.

She raised her glass to his, touched it briefly. “To old friends.”

“I’ll drink to that.” They both took sips, looking at each other over the rims.

She cupped her glass with both hands. “Speaking of old friends, what do you hear from Rourke Devlin?”

Ted shrugged. “Rourke’s got the world on a string. From humble beginnings to self-made billionaire. He always had the drive and talent to pull it off, although I never would’ve guessed he would succeed to the degree he has.”

“He lives in New York, still?”

“A huge Park Avenue penthouse with views of Central Park and the Manhattan skyline.”

“Has he been seeing anyone since his divorce?”

“I would guess the answer to that would be
plenty
. But we haven’t discussed it. Why? Are you interested?”

“Maybe. My first choice seems to be taken.”

Ted didn’t respond immediately. “How do you know that?”

“You didn’t touch me once tonight. I never caught you looking south of my face, either.”

Given the fact he was a healthy male, he’d looked. He just hadn’t wanted to take it further than that.

“What do your parents think of her?” she added into his silence, swirling her brandy slowly.

“It’s not something I seek their opinion about.”

“They’ve always had plans for you, you know. The only son, the golden boy.”

“Did they say something to you?”

“About Sara Beth?” Tricia asked. “Not specifically. Just a general remark about how important roots are.”

“I hear an echo from years gone by.”

She laughed. “They mean well.”

“No doubt. Shall I take you home?”

She made a point of looking at her watch, letting him know it was early still, only nine-thirty, then set her empty glass next to his barely touched one and picked up her evening bag. “I’d hoped for a different end to the evening.”

“We had our day, Tricia.”

“Yes, I suppose we did. So, how about sharing Rourke’s phone number?”

He laughed as he walked her to the elevator. “He’s not an Eagle Scout anymore.”

“Meaning?”

“A man can’t rise to the position he has without being…” The elevator door opened. He held it, letting her precede him.

“Ruthless?”

“That’s part of it.” He punched the garage button, giving
ruthless
a thought. “I just know he’d probably jeopardize your chances of rising to the Supreme Court.”

“I’m not looking for matrimony, Chip. Just a little action. I have to be a lot more careful when I’m in my own town.”

The elevator bounced to a stop. “Tell you what. I’ll let him know you’re interested.”

“Never mind. I’m not sure my ego can take rejection from both of you.”

He dropped her off at her parents’ house a few minutes later. Without conscious thought he aimed his car toward Cambridge, making a deal with himself as he went. If he found a parking space within a block, he would call Sara Beth and ask if he could come up. If not, he would go back home. Leave it in the hands of fate.

As he neared her house he started looking, inching down the street, then beyond by one block, the parameters he’d set. No spaces anywhere.

He gripped the steering wheel. Okay. That was it, then. He made a right turn, then another, another, then one more, when he should’ve turned left, finding himself on the same route, and still no parking. He glanced at the dashboard clock. A little after ten. Too late to call, anyway.

Once again he made a right turn, another, one more.
Turn left. Go home
….

He turned right. A car pulled away from the curb in front of him. Fate, just a little delayed.

Ted nosed his car into the space and sat. And sat. He wasn’t close enough to see if her lights were still on, but that alone wouldn’t mean she didn’t have company, either.

Or that she would welcome him. Things had ended on an iffy note last night.

At ten-fifteen Ted got out of his car and started walking. Her living room lights were out. He’d stalled too long.

Yet he kept on walking, not hesitating a step. He
rang the bell to her unit, waited what seemed like forever until the front door opened.

“Ted?”

She wore flannel pajamas with fire engines printed on the fabric, along with the words
hot stuff, sizzle
and
smokin
’. And teddy-bear slippers.

“Are you okay?” she asked, hugging herself against the cold.

“May I come in?”

“Why?”

“I’d like to clear the air.”

She studied his face for what seemed like an hour then stepped back so that he could come inside. He signaled her to lead the way up the stairs. She smelled of toothpaste and soap.

“How was your date?” she asked as they crossed the threshold, her voice taut.

“On a scale of one to ten? A five.” She didn’t ask him to sit, which said a lot to him. “Are you wondering what I’d rate our date last night?” he asked.

“No.”

He smiled. “Eleven.”

“That’s nice.”

He would’ve laughed at how casually she said it, except she might not take what he had to say next seriously. “We left things up in the air last night, Sara Beth, and I wanted to be sure we’re on the same page, so there’s no confusion, no awkwardness at work tomorrow.”

“About what?”

“We talked about being friends with benefits.”

Her jaw clenched. “
You
talked about it.”

“Yes, I realized later that you hadn’t weighed in on it at all.”

“Because I’m not interested.”

“In the friends part, or the benefits part?”

She crossed her arms. “The combination.”

He pondered that. “So, we could be friends. Or we could be lovers. Those are the choices?”

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

Because he couldn’t resist, he swirled a lock of her soft hair with his finger, then tucked it behind her ear. “How did you mean it, Sara Beth?”

“I like both aspects. I just don’t like the label, friends with benefits. It implies a freedom to have
other
friends with benefits. When I’m with someone, I’m exclusive.”

“I didn’t sleep with Tricia.” He ran his finger around her ear, heard her breath catch. Encouraged, he rubbed the lobe with his fingers.

“Did she offer?” Sara Beth asked. When he didn’t reply, she said, “She did. I knew it.”

“What difference does it make? We didn’t.”

She pushed his hand away. “Why not? She’s so right for you. You have all that history. You fit into each other’s lives.”

There were so many reasons, ones that were becoming clearer to him by the minute as she stood there in her pajamas and teddy-bear slippers looking once again like the girl next door. He knew when the pajamas were off, she was a fantasy come to life.

“She doesn’t make me laugh, Sara Beth,” he said. “I don’t make her laugh.”

Her big brown eyes opened wide. “That’s important to you?”

“Isn’t it to you?”

“Well, yes, but—”

“And I don’t watch her walk away, wanting to put my hands on her.”

“You do that? Watch me like that? Want me like that?” Her voice had gone softer, and a little breathless.

“For months. And since you started working in the same room? It’s been hell.”

“I never would’ve guessed.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t catch me eyeing you with lust a hundred times, even in your scrubs. I want you, Sara Beth. Only you.” He reached for her. “Come to bed with me.”

“The couch is closer,” she said, diving for him. At first he tried to slow her down, then he caught up and took over, undressing both of them in a rush of unbuttoning, unzipping, tugging and tossing. His memories of last night were shoved aside, replaced by this incredibly passionate, sexy, demanding version of the endlessly complex Sara Beth.

He took the few steps to her sofa, pulling her down with him, letting her straddle him, lifting her hair over her shoulders so that he could see all of her.

“You’re all I’ve thought about all day long,” she said, kissing him.

“Same for me.” Every minute. Relived every mo
ment of the night before, the urge to have her again all consuming.

“Good. I wanted you to be as tortured as I was,” she said against his mouth.

“Wish granted.”

He filled his hands with her breasts, savored their taste and texture until she dropped her head onto his shoulder.

“Hurry. Please hurry,” she said, demand and need melding in her voice.

He found home with her as she sank onto him, then arched back, holding that pose, agony and ecstasy on her face, driving him over the brink, as well. She made glorious sounds, moved in a rhythm he helped establish and maintain, and exploded with a climax that came fast and loud. His followed, held, lingered…then eased, but slowly, the sensation lasting, fulfilling.

She fell against him, panting, her face pressed to his shoulder. “That was phenomenal,” she said, breathing hard.

“Yeah.”

A few seconds later she went rigid.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, sure that something was.

She sat up, her skin gone pale, her eyes deep and dark. “No pocket protector.”

He swallowed. “What’s the timing like?”

“I have to look on my calendar. Because I’m not on the pill, it’s not regular. In fact, it’s very irregular.”

She started to move off him. He cupped her arms, keeping her there. “The chances are slim.”

“I know.”

He was a doctor. He felt he had to bring up a possibility. “There’s the morning-after pill….”

She shook her head, adamantly. “I can’t. Is that what you want?”

He held her hands tightly. “I have spent my career trying to find ways to help people have children. No, it’s not what I want. We’ll cross that bridge if we come to it, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“In the meantime, we’ll make sure we use condoms. No sense tempting fate.”

Fate. He’d left it to fate earlier as to whether or not he would see her tonight. And fate had seemed to put them in a situation where they hadn’t been careful. He was always careful. He was pretty sure she was, too.

She finger-combed his hair, then locked her hands behind his neck. “Would you like to stay the night?” she asked, not looking completely sure of herself, or his answer.

“Do you have pocket protectors?”

She smiled, slow and sexy. “I’m pretty sure I do,” she said. “If not, we can get creative.”

“What do you say we get creative, with or without?” He kissed her, was relieved when she relaxed into him. “How big is your bed?” he asked.

“We’ll both fit, provided I sleep on top of you.”

Her sense of humor had returned—or had it? “Are you serious?”

She laughed. “It’s queen size. I realize you’re a king-
size man—in more ways than one—but I think we’ll fit okay.” She wiggled her brows suggestively.

“Let’s go give it a try.”

“Eat my dust, Teddy Bear.”

He caught up with her at her bedroom door and scooped her into his arms. They landed on the bed together.

“That was a quick recovery,” she said, her eyes sparkling.

“I aim to please.”

“Yeah? Show me.”

He brushed his lips against hers. “It’ll be my pleasure.”