by Cate Beauman
He sat down, taking her chin in his hand. “You look sad.”
She shrugged. “I can’t help someone who doesn’t want it.”
“No you can’t.”
Faith tucked herself and rolled to her stomach.
Reagan’s eyes widened as Shane’s did. “Did you see that? Has she done that before?”
“Not for me.”
Reagan beamed, picking up the baby. “Faithy, you just rolled. Yes you did.”
Shane laughed, sliding closer, his arm brushing hers as he grinned at the baby. “Who’s our big girl?”
Faith smiled at him, cooing.
He kissed her little hands. “Are you my big girl?”
“What’s goin’ on in here?” Jenny came to the door.
“Faith rolled,” Reagan said. “It was probably an accident. It’s a little early for her to be doing that, but we’ll celebrate anyway.”
Jenny smiled sadly.
Reagan settled Faith in her lap. “What’s wrong?”
She jerked her shoulders. “I guess I’m just lookin’ at the three of you sittin’ there on the bed, and I’m seein’ a perfect little family. Sometimes I find myself thinkin’ you two should be her mommy and daddy.”
Shane stood. “But we’re not.” He took Faith from Reagan. “She’s got a great mom right here.” He handed the baby to Jenny. “Faith loves her mom.”
Faith clutched at Jenny’s index finger she offered. “I guess she does.”
Reagan stood. “Of course she does, sweetie. You’re an excellent mother. I’m very proud of you.” She hugged the teenager.
Jenny hugged her back. “I find myself wishin’ you were my momma. Your children are gonna be mighty lucky to have you the way me and Faith are.”
Her smile dimmed with Jenny’s unintentionally hurtful words. “Thank you. I think I might go help myself to the meal Shane saved.”
“I’m gonna give Faith her bottle and put her down to bed. Oh.” She stopped and turned. “I was helpin’ Shane put the food order together for the next couple of weeks. Do you want anything special?”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“Shane was gonna ask the new guy that’s comin’ what he’ll be wantin’.”
She looked at Shane, then Jenny, as they were all reminded again that Shane was running out of time here in The Gap. She sent him a smile despite the newly familiar sinking sensation in her stomach every time the subject came up. "It looks like you and I will have to start taking turns in the kitchen.”
Jenny wrinkled her nose. “I’ll cook.”
She chuckled. “Maybe Chase cooks.”
She and Jenny both looked at Shane.
He shook his head. “I have no idea. I’ll e-mail him tonight and see what he wants and ask him about his kitchen abilities. I can’t imagine they’re any worse than yours.” He bumped Reagan’s arm with his elbow.
She smiled again, but she didn’t want to think of another man living in the cabin. “So harsh.”
“Sometimes the truth hurts.” He winked as he delivered another insult.
“Well then, by all means, let me sample some of your excellent cuisine, Mr. Harper.”
“Definitely. Come on.” He held out his arm and she hooked hers through his, walking with him down the hall to the kitchen.
Chapter Nineteen
Reagan walked through the front door into the dark, toeing off her shoes in the blue glow of the TV.
Shane and Jenny looked over their shoulders from their seats on the couch while the action flick played. “Hey.” He hit pause. “Welcome home, stranger.”
She sighed, glad to be finished for the night. “Thanks. Don’t stop your movie on my account. I have some stuff to do. Go ahead and enjoy.” She started down the hall as gunfire sprayed through the speakers in the living room once again.
“Hey.” Shane followed, looking relaxed and comfortable in black sweatpants and one of his white Ethan Cooke Security t-shirts. “Why don’t you change your clothes and come take a load off?”
She couldn’t wait to get out of her jeans and sweater and pull on a pair of her own sweatpants. “Mmm, maybe in a few minutes. I want to wrap up a couple of things first.”
He snagged her by the elbow. “Doc, it’s eight thirty and you’re just getting home.”
“I came home for dinner, which was really good by the way.” She pulled the hair tie from her hair, letting her long locks fall free.
“And left again right after dish duty. You’re working too much.” He leaned his shoulder against the wall and put his hands in his pockets.
“The bi-annual inventory isn’t going to do itself.”
“I told you I would help.”
“And I appreciate it, but I should be finished up tomorrow.” Both he and Jenny had offered her a hand more than once, but counting cotton swabs and chux pads for the director’s spreadsheets kept her busy. “Tell you what—give me half an hour and I’ll be down.”
“The movie will be over by then. How about we plan on dinner and a movie tomorrow? Me and Jenny are going to try our hand at that pizza recipe Sophie sent me the other day.”
Homemade pizza and a movie with her two favorite people. She beamed. “That sounds great. I could make cookies or something for dessert.”
He tossed her a pained look. “How about you pick the flick and leave the rest to us.”
She chuckled. “Fine.”
He smiled. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Goodnight.” She watched him walk down the hall, sliding an appreciative glance over his spectacular backside, then turned and went into her room, changing out of her work clothes into her comfy pajamas after another long, tedious day. Sitting at her desk, she opened her laptop, glancing at Henry’s x-ray, which she’d been looking at earlier in the afternoon, and flipped to her e-mail, sighing her disappointment when there was nothing new in her inbox.
It had been a week since she and Doctor Yancey spoke. She realized he was on his honeymoon, but Henry was running out of time. She thought of her disastrous impromptu meeting with the Dooleys and Henry’s increasingly poor health. Over the last several days she’d struggled with the helpless frustration of waiting for a concurring second opinion if she had any chance of standing up to Doctor Jacobson on Henry and Daisy’s behalf.
Standing, she spotted Doctor Schlibenburg’s number peaking from the pages of her handwritten notes, hesitated, then picked up the phone. Doctor Yancey was helping her with her patients, but she wanted Doctor Schlibenburg’s unpublished article. Clearly he had something important to say. Maybe if they spoke on the phone a few times, he would see he could trust her. Dialing, she waited through several rings.
“Hello?”
She frowned when a woman answered. “Hello, is Dr. Schlibenburg there?”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“This is Reagan Rosner. I’m hoping I might be able to speak with him.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible.”
“Oh, okay.” She rubbed at the tension settling in the back of her neck with yet another setback. “Would you please pass on a message? I wanted to thank him for meeting with me—”
“Ms. Rosner, this is Doctor Schlibenburg’s daughter. My father passed away.”
Her hand fell to her side. “What?”
“My father died last week.”
“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you,” she said, her voice wavering. “How did you know my father?”
“He was consulting with me on one of my patient’s diagnosis. I’m a physician with The Appalachia Project in Black Bear Gap.”
“My father didn’t practice anymore.” She sniffled.
“It was a professional favor.” She pressed her fingers to her temple, struggling with disbelief. “I’m really so sorry,” she said again. “I can only express my sincerest condolences. Your father was a very nice man.” She shrugged helplessly, unsure of what else to say.
“Thank you.
”
“If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”
“That’s very kind. Goodbye, Doctor Rosner.”
“Bye.” She hung up and sat down on her bed, pressing a hand to her stomach. Doctor Schlibenburg was dead. How could that be? Had he been in some sort of accident or succumbed to a fall? Surely it wasn’t his health. His mental state had been questionable, but he’d seemed in good physical condition when they met. But now he was gone. Her blood ran hot then cold with the unexpected tragedy. Shaken, she walked to the bathroom, pulled off her clothes, and stepped in a steamy shower, hoping to get warm.
~~~~
Shane lay in bed reading the reports Ethan had sent him, briefing him on his next assignment. In a week he would be on his way back to California, then off to Madrid for two weeks before he returned to his regular duties in Los Angeles again.
His door opened a crack. “Shane?”
“Yeah?” He sat up. “Come on in.”
Reagan walked in wrapped in her robe, her hair dripping, her face pale as she leaned back against the door, closing it with the weight of her body.
He pushed his covers back and stood. “What’s wrong?”
“Doctor Schlibenburg’s dead.”
Of all the things he’d been expecting her to say, that wasn’t one of them. “What?”
“He’s dead.”
“How? What happened?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know exactly. His daughter answered his phone when I called tonight. She was understandably upset. I didn’t want to ask. She said he passed away last week.”
“Did he seem sick when you met him?”
“No. He was a little strange and very keyed up, but he didn’t appear ill. Perhaps he fell, or maybe he had a heart attack.” She swiped at her wet hair, breathing in a shaky breath as she walked to where he stood. “Regardless, it’s a terrible tragedy, and I’m a horrible person.”
He frowned at the sudden change in their conversation. “No you’re not. Why would you say that?”
“A man’s dead—someone’s father—and all I can think about is how I won’t be able to convince him to help me.”
He took her hand. “Come sit down and talk to me.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about Henry or black lung, graffiti or Doctor Schlibenburg.” She let loose another shaky breath as a tear fell. “I don’t want to think at all.”
“Okay.”
Staring into his eyes, she stepped closer, crowding his space, walking him back to the bed.
He gripped her arms, stopping when his legs connected with the mattress. “Reagan, what are you doing?”
She slid her hands beneath his t-shirt, trailing her palms up his stomach and chest. “I don’t want to talk.” She stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. “I’m so sick of thinking,” she said on a whisper.
He gave into lust over reason, following her lead, opening his mouth to the teasing darts of her tongue. “Reagan.” He eased back as another tear slid down her cheeks. “Stop. Reagan.”
She shook her head and shoved him, knocking him off balance, sending him backwards.
“Shit.”
She crawled on top of him, straddling him at the waist. “Don’t you want me, Shane?” She tugged up his shirt, torturing him with hungry, open-mouthed kisses along his stomach and pecs. Her breath heated his skin as she went to work on his neck.
He closed his eyes, gripping her shoulders. “Christ, yes I want you. You know I do, but you’re upset.”
“So make me forget.” She nipped at his jaw, holding his gaze, combing her fingers through his hair.
“I uh—” He pulled at her robe and dropped his hands in defense. “I don’t think this is a good idea,” he tried again breathlessly.
She sat up abruptly, tracing the ridges of his six-pack. “I know what I’m doing. I know what I want: I want you.”
He stared into her hot blue eyes as she bit her bottom lip, daring him to send her away. Rearing up to sitting, he touched his lips to hers.
“I need you,” she whispered, cupping his face. “I need you.”
He pushed the hair back from her temple. “I’m right here.” Their mouths collided, and he yanked at the tie on her robe, sliding the cotton from her shoulders, down her arms, staring at her magnificent breasts and tiny waist. “God, you’re gorgeous.”
She pulled at the hem of his shirt, freeing him from his top.
He ran his hands up her smooth thighs and hips and clutched at her ass, capturing her mouth. “If this isn’t working for you, Doc, tell me now.”
“Take me.”
Groaning, he devoured her, feasting on her sweet flavor, staring into her eyes, letting his fingers wander over the soft skin of her arms and waist while he nipped at her jaw and neck, pausing to meet her gaze again before moving to her collarbone, then her breasts, bathing the soft, sensitive peaks with moist kisses.
She moaned, gripping his shoulders, grinding herself against his erection through the barrier of his sweatpants with each sinuous rock of her hips.
“God, Reagan,” he murmured, taking her hand, kissing her palm, her wrist.
“Shane.” She went after his neck, then his ear, tugging with her teeth. She played with the hem of his pants, helping him awkwardly from his remaining clothes. “Take me faster.”
She was destroying him with her demands. He captured her mouth again as she gripped him in her hand. “I don’t have any condoms,” he realized in horror.
“It’s okay,” she murmured against his mouth, rising up, taking him in.
“Reagan,” he groaned, clutching at her hips as she sunk him deeper into her hot, wet fire.
Gasping, she hooked her arms around his neck. “It’s okay.”
Seduced beyond reason, he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her as close as they could get, arrowing himself deeper, moving to the rhythm she set.
“Oh, God. Oh, God,” she shuddered out, stiffening, tipping her head as she bowed back, calling out quietly.
He lay back against the pillows, gripping her hips, pumping frantically, watching her eyes widen with stunned pleasure as she tensed again, calling his name.
Before she could recover, he tugged her down, chest to chest, and rolled, pinning her beneath him. He wanted her under him when he finished them both off.
“Shane. Shane,” she whimpered against his lips as her eyes held his.
He pushed her hands to her sides, clasping their fingers, and tortured them both with long, slow thrusts, drawing out the ending.
Her breathing grew unsteady for the third time and her fingers squeezed around his as he kissed her, feeling himself build as she did.
He waited for the pulsing rhythm of her climax to entice him over and exploded on a loud groan, pushing himself deeper, filling her. He puffed hot torrents of air against her damp neck, lying still as her fingers went lax against his. Easing back, he looked into her eyes. “This was an amazing and unexpected end to the evening. How you doing down there?”
She smiled. “Great. Very relaxed.”
“I aim to please.”
She wiggled her brows. “I appreciate it.”
He chuckled before his smile faded. “I take it you’re on birth control.”
“Something like that.”
His shoulders tensed with her non-answer. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“It means you don’t have to worry. I’m disease free. So are you. Jenny and I studied your blood workups—”
“Reagan, are we covered here or not?”
“We’re covered, ace.” She tapped his cheek with her hand. “I can’t get pregnant, so go ahead and take it easy.”
Her statement was an unexpected blow. “You can’t have kids? Are you sure?”
“Pretty positive. Over the past couple of years I’ve had several ovarian cysts and some pretty damaging scaring.”
He slid his fingers along her temple, sad for her,
seeing the way she was with Faith. “I’m sorry.”
“I mourned pretty hard after the specialist told me. I guess I still am, but I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that I won’t be making babies.”
“When did you find out?”
“About two months before I came here. The man I was seeing fairly seriously couldn’t handle it, so he broke things off.”
Her hiatus now made perfect sense. “Good for me; stupid of him.”
She smiled.
“He didn’t deserve you, Reagan.”
She shrugged. “Most men want a family—or at least eventually.”
“There’s more than one way to make a family.”
She smiled again, tracing his ear.
He didn’t know what else to say, so he kissed her instead, deeply, tenderly, wanting to vanish the sadness that had crept into her eyes. “So what should we do now?”
She moved her hands to stroke the back of his neck. “I should have you pull out so I can put my robe back on and go to my room.”
He shook his head. Reagan had come to scratch an itch, but she wasn’t going to walk away so easily. “I want to lay with you for a while.”
“I’m restless.”
“And tired.” He touched his fingers to the dark circles marring her pretty skin. He pulled himself free of her and tugged her against him. “Lay here with me for a couple of minutes.”
She yawned. “For a few minutes.” She relaxed in the crook of his shoulder.
He stroked his hand down her arm for several minutes, watching her slowly drift off to sleep. He twisted off the lamp and snuggled closer, closing his eyes, looking forward to laying here with Reagan the way he’d wanted to for weeks.
Chapter Twenty
Reagan opened her eyes and looked at Shane still sleeping as the sun peeked in around the edges of the curtains, wincing as she glanced at the clock. She never intended to stay with him through the night. Heck, she’d never planned to walk into his room and rip off his clothes, but she had, and now she would have to deal with the consequences of her reckless behavior.
Her gaze trailed over his messy hair, beautiful face, and equally spectacular body, half covered by the sheets. She studied his sexy tattoo encircling his bicep, ignoring the kick of her pulse rate, fisting her hand on her stomach as she yearned to touch him.