The Doctor's Pregnant Bride? (3 page)

“And did very well, I’m sure,” Sara Beth said.

He shrugged. Bragging wasn’t part of his makeup.

“I wanted to get away from home after high school graduation, so I went to Stanford. I met Chance there. We were opposites in most ways, but both of us were determined to make a difference. We teamed up at the Breyer Medical Center in San Francisco and made some progress, but we didn’t have the freedom to work in the way we needed. When Paul Armstrong extended the offer to come here, we said yes.” Immediately. No hesitation at all. “How about you?”

“I’m also an only child, and my mother was strict but kind, but I was a jock. Played soccer from age five through high school and loved it. I didn’t have any interest in leaving home, which is why I went to BC, and because of the institute’s scholarship. I’d been working there since I was sixteen, starting as a part-time file clerk. I’ve never worked anywhere else.”

“So you work there because you feel obligated?”

She didn’t say anything for a while, then, “In some
respects that’s true, but I believe in what they do, and it’s a comfortable place for me. Lisa and I have been best friends all our lives, and so I spent a lot of time at the Armstrong home. I know her sister and brothers. Her father was always very kind to me, and my mother loved working for him. In fact, she was his first employee, was even kind of a girl Friday as well as his nurse until they got so big they needed more help.”

She sat up straighter and looked around as he turned onto his parents’ street. “Um, where are we?”

“Mount Vernon Square.”

“As in, Beacon Hill?” she asked, sounding slightly short of horrified.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she said tightly. “And where do you live?”

“Back Bay.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then glanced at her dress. “Are you sure I’m dressed up enough?”

“You look fine.” He almost said
beautiful
, which was the truth, but caught himself in time figuring she wouldn’t believe him.

She went silent. He continued to talk as if nothing had changed, offering more family information, asking more questions of her, getting subdued answers. But when they arrived, he felt prepared to answer the basic questions his parents might put forward.

Ted let himself and Sara Beth into the 150-year-old Victorian house where he’d grown up. Inside, he pressed a hand to the small of her back and urged her toward the sitting room, where he could hear voices. He was appre
ciating the curve of her spine when he felt her stiffen a little. “They don’t eat guests for dinner,” he said close to her ear.

She laughed quietly, shakily.

“They’ve found that guests make for a better dessert,” he added just as they walked through the open door.

Conversation stopped. His gaze swept the room. His mother and father were side by side on a settee.

But they were not alone.

S
ara Beth wanted to jab Ted in the ribs. Hard. Obviously he hadn’t warned his parents he was bringing her, because they quickly glanced at a woman about Ted’s age seated in a high-back chair, wearing a Valentine-red, body-hugging dress. She was blond, curvy and regal-looking, the silver spoon in her mouth invisible but obvious in her demeanor.

“Darling,” his mother said as his father stood and came toward Ted and Sara Beth. “You brought a guest. How lovely.”

Sara Beth gave her credit. She sounded genuinely pleased.

Ted shook hands with his father. “I thought I’d surprise you. This is Sara Beth O’Connell. Sara Beth,
these are my parents, Brant and Penny Bonner, and a family friend, Tricia Trahearn.”

Sara Beth caught a cool, speculative look from Tricia as they shook hands.

“It’s been a long time, Tricia. How are you?” Ted asked, clasping her hand for a moment too long, in Sara Beth’s opinion. Or was
she
doing the holding?

“I’m well, thank you. You’re looking wonderful.”

“I can’t complain.” He let go, then bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Happy anniversary.”

Shock surged through Sara Beth, then annoyance. Oh, yeah, she was going to get him for this. It was bad enough she seemed like a party crasher, but he also hadn’t bothered to tell her it was his parents’ anniversary.

“Thank you, darling,” Penny Bonner said, lifting her glass to her husband. “Thirty-four years. Time does fly.”

The only available seating was a second settee, facing his parents. Ted led Sara Beth there. She thought she was doing an admirable job of keeping her expression neutral, while an internal volcano threatened to spew. She’d accepted his invitation because she’d wanted an adventure, to recapture that piece of herself. Instead she felt like an intruder.

Which was Dr. Ted Bonner’s fault, big-time.

Hadn’t her mother warned her forever about doctors, particularly about doctors, love and romance? Yes, yes, yes. Forever. From as far back as Sara Beth’s memory reached. Doctors lived in a world of their own, her mother had said. It was one of the reasons Sara Beth had kept away from Ted, since she’d been dazzled by an
instant attraction to him. Nothing serious could ever happen between them.

“Glenfiddich on the rocks for you, I imagine, son?” his father said, then looked at Sara Beth. “What would you like?”

To dump a whole bottle of that pricey whiskey over your son’s head.
“White wine would be wonderful, thank you.”

Brant moved to a bar cart, then returned with their drinks. No one spoke. The awkwardness grew by the second. Sara Beth didn’t hazard a glance toward the sexy Tricia Trahearn, but felt the woman’s interest. Or maybe she’d zeroed in on Ted. Either way, she didn’t look anywhere but in their direction.

Sara Beth also wondered how irritated his mother was. Not only would she have to add another place at the table, there would be an odd number instead of even.

Ted’s mother ended the silence. “Tricia is visiting her parents for a month,” Penny said.

Penny was short for Penelope, Sara Beth recalled from Ted’s conversation in the car. His parents were old Boston.
Very
old Boston, as in James-Bonner-arrived-in-America-on-the-ship-
Truelove
-in-1623 old Boston. Penelope and Brantley were family names from a long and duly documented genealogy through the centuries. Ted was officially Theodore, so named after ancestors from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. “It could’ve been worse,” he’d told her as he’d parked the car. “Several were named Percival.”

“How are your parents?” Ted asked Tricia, swirling his drink then taking a sip.

“Disappointed in me, as always.”

“Why’s that?”

She recrossed her legs and bounced her foot. “I haven’t married and procreated yet.” She offered a small toast. “I’m sure you’ve heard the refrain.”

Sara Beth didn’t appreciate Tricia’s lack of subtlety, nor the way she seemed so familiar with Ted.

Ted smiled, returning the gesture with his glass. “Tricia is a judge,” he said to Sara Beth. “Youngest on the bench at the moment.”

Of course she is
. Probably everyone he knew held positions of power and influence. Sara Beth was proud of where she came from and what she’d accomplished, but this was a whole new world to her.

“
Appointed
judge. Not here, but in Vermont,” Tricia said. “We’ll see what happens come election time.”

“It’ll be a landslide,” Penny said with assurance. “And for the record, we don’t pester Ted about marrying and procreating, as you so bluntly put it, do we, darling?”

“I suppose one would have to define the word
pester
, Mother,” Ted responded, but with a smile. His father laughed.

“So, where did you and Sara Beth meet?” Penny asked.

“She’s the head nurse at the Armstrong Fertility Institute.”

“You work together?”

“Not together, exactly. I’m research. She’s medicine,” Ted said.

Sara Beth was fine with the fact he was fudging the truth a little. They weren’t a couple, after all, and they wouldn’t officially be working together until tomorrow morning.

“Do you help deliver babies?” Tricia asked.

“We don’t do deliveries at the institute. We use the hospital next door. A lot of specialized staff and equipment is necessary, since we often have multiple births. I do, however, attend some of the births. Some of our patients find it comforting to have a familiar face present,” Sara Beth explained.

“You enjoy your work?” Penny asked.

“I—Yes, I do. I’ve known since I was a child that it was what I wanted. I’m sure the decision was influenced by my mother, who was head nurse at the institute since Dr. Armstrong started it. She retired recently.”

“And your father?” Penny asked.

Sara Beth wondered if Ted knew her background. In the car she’d only mentioned her mother, and he hadn’t questioned her about her father. “My father has never been part of my life.”
But maybe he will be. Maybe I’ll find him, after all. The vault could hold the answers
….

She realized how quiet the room had gotten. No one knew what to say. “My mother and I are very close, though. How did you two meet?” she asked, diverting the conversation to his parents.

Brant laid his hand over Penny’s. Love and affection radiated from her face, and it made Sara Beth hunger for someone to look at her that way. She’d been in a position to observe a lot of couples through the years, couples who were usually under a lot of stress, either
trying to get pregnant or waiting out a complicated pregnancy, so they didn’t always glow. Still, it was wonderful to see a husband and wife so obviously in love after so many years.

“Our mothers were in Junior League together,” Penny said. “Brant and I hated each other on sight.”

“We were four years old,” Brant said. “She was annoying.”

“And he annoyed.”

“When did it change?” Sara Beth asked.

“On my sixteenth birthday,” Penny said. “His parents made him come to my party.”

“I did my duty and asked her to dance, a fast dance where we wouldn’t touch, but the song ended right away and a slow one started. I felt stuck.”

“That was all it took,” Penny said, her smile warm as their gazes met. “The moment we touched—”

“Pow.” He stroked her hair. “I stole a kiss later, and that was it for me.”

“Same here.”

Sara Beth glanced at Ted. He was looking into the distance, probably devising some chemical formula in his head—or maybe planning when he would see Tricia again. Or maybe he’d just heard the story too many times for it to have impact. To Sara Beth it was incredibly romantic.

By the time the party moved into the dining room, another place setting had been added. They were served an incredible meal by a small, wiry, white-haired man named Louis, who looked to be in his
eighties and who winked at Sara Beth when she’d momentarily been overwhelmed by the situation. She relaxed then and enjoyed the seared salmon with ginger-lime sauce, roasted asparagus and brown rice with scallions. Dessert was carrot cake, an anniversary tradition because it had been Brant and Penny’s groom’s cake.

Conversation happened around her. Questions asked and answered, memories shared. “Remember when?” became Tricia’s catchphrase, grating in Sara Beth’s ears after the third time. And since Sara Beth didn’t know enough about Ted, nor did she have a history with him, she couldn’t counter anything Tricia said with a memory of her own. Ted didn’t seem to notice, just nodded and kept eating.

“Remember the time we sailed to Providence?” Tricia asked Ted as Louis cleared the dessert plates. “We capsized,” she said to Sara Beth. “He saved my life. My hero.”

“You know, I’ve think we’ve bored Sara Beth with history for long enough,” Ted said. He set his hand on the back of Sara Beth’s chair, gave her what seemed like a tender look, almost bringing tears to her eyes, even though she knew he was only putting on a show for his parents.

She stopped being mad at him.

“We should be going,” he said.

“Me, too,” Tricia said, patting her lips with her napkin.

Their farewells were brief. “I’m sorry you didn’t know ahead of time that I was coming,” Sara Beth said to Ted’s parents.

“Please don’t concern yourself,” Penny said. “We were thrilled he brought you. Truly, Sara Beth, your presence was a lovely gift.”

Ted and Sara Beth left the house with Tricia, after Ted helped the woman into her coat. Sara Beth had figured out they must have dated in high school, and had seen each other at some point since, but none of Tricia’s remember-whens seemed recent.

“Maybe if we both get after him,” Tricia said, looking over her shoulder at Sara Beth, “Ted will finally furnish his loft. Penny says it reminds her of a college student. Do you agree?”

Sara Beth debated whether to admit she hadn’t seen his place. “He works a lot.” She felt Ted’s hand cup her shoulder and squeeze.

“I heard. Penny wanted me to volunteer to take on the job of decorating for him. I have a knack for that sort of thing.”

“I’ll get around to it,” Ted said.

“You’ve apparently been saying that for months.”

“And I’ve meant it for months. When things lighten up at work, I’ll take care of it.”

“I already promised to help him,” Sara Beth said, fed up with how the woman kept pushing.

To his credit, Ted didn’t blink an eye at the lie. He just lowered his arm to Sara Beth’s waist. His hand felt hot through her coat, which was an impossibility, she knew. Still…

“Really?” Tricia’s brows arched. She looked Sara Beth over again, as if examining her for some kind of
decorator gene—and coming up empty. “Why didn’t you just say so, Ted?”

“He’s a man,” Sara Beth explained. “He doesn’t like to admit he can’t do something, you know?” She felt him laugh beside her and felt warm despite the cold night.

“Well, here we are,” Tricia said, stopping next to a silver BMW. “Maybe we could have lunch?” she asked Ted. “Catch up. For old time’s sake. Just friends, you realize,” she said to Sara Beth.

For old time’s sake? Right. For
now
. Her interest in Ted was as obvious as the cut of her neckline—low and open for invitation.

“I don’t have much free time,” Ted said, squeezing Sara Beth’s waist a little tighter.

She leaned into him and smiled at Tricia.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Tricia said. “Mother and Father would love to see you, too.”

“We’ll see.”

“Ted and I met when we were children, too,” she said to Sara Beth. “Just like his parents.”

“Without the same results,” Sara Beth said, fed up.

“Good night, Tricia,” Ted said in a tone meant to shut down the conversation.

He maneuvered Sara Beth past her and headed for his car, his arm still around her waist, even though he no longer needed to put on a show. He’d touched her earlier, twice. First, he’d accidentally touched her breast, catching her off guard—and himself, she could tell. Then later, at his parents’ house, he’d rested his hand
lightly against her lower back. It had startled her, because it was deliberate. But looking back now, maybe that wasn’t all. Maybe it was the touch itself, which had revved her up.

“Thanks for the save,” Ted said as they drove off a minute later. “And for realizing I needed saving.”

“You
were
looking a little desperate.” She smiled. “I’m kidding. What is your home like?”

“It’s the top floor of a converted warehouse with a rooftop garden. That I never use.”

She sighed. “If I had a garden, I’d rarely be indoors.”

“There’s no garden in the backyard of your house?”

“There is, but I’m just the renter. It’s owned by a horticulture researcher at Harvard. I’m not allowed to touch his garden. Everything’s an experiment.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“Three years.”

“I was envying your sofa earlier. Reminded me I should order one myself.”

“So your loft does looks like a college student’s?”

“It’s…minimalist.”

She smiled at that.

“I don’t even know what’s kept me from getting it decorated. I could order furniture online, so it’s not like I’d have to spend time going from store to store. I just haven’t done it. Chance gets after me, too.”

She hesitated a long time before she said, “I take it you don’t entertain much.” How personal was she allowed to get?

“I never entertain. I should be reciprocating invita
tions. My mother drilled that particular etiquette into my head. Until I furnish the place, I can’t.”

“What’s your style?”

“It would still be minimalist, but also comfortable. I have art—paintings and other pieces that I’ve collected or been given. They’re piled in a corner. I suppose it makes sense to decorate around them.” He pulled up in front of her house. “Do you see parking anywhere?”

“You don’t need to bother.” She gathered her coat around her and opened the door. “I’ll be fine.”

He looked at her directly. “You’ve met my mother.”

She laughed. “Well, she’s not here to see your breach of etiquette. Really, Ted, you could end up driving around for fifteen minutes. I don’t need to be walked to the door.” This wasn’t a real date, anyway, she reminded herself.