The Doctor's Instant Family

by Mindy Neff

  He heard music and followed the sound to the living room. A fire burned in the fireplace and the lights on the Christmas tree were lit. The scent of pine and smoke mingled with the delicious smell of whatever Maria had in the oven. Kelly was at the upright piano playing a melody he didn’t recognize. She was good. Better than good.

  An overwhelming sense of right washed over him, a feeling he hadn’t experienced since he was a boy. For the first time since he’d bought it, this house felt like a home.

  And it had a lot to do with the woman making beautiful music on his grandmother’s piano.

  He took off his hat, wondered if he should toss it into the room and see if it came sailing back at him.

  She glanced up and noticed him standing there, her fingers faltering over the keyboard only for a second. Aside from that slight hiccup, she continued to play…and held his gaze at the same time.

  “I’m annoyed with you,” she said at last.

  “Yeah, I figured as much.”

  She turned her attention back to the ivories, playing as though it was second nature to her. “I’d forgotten how music soothes me.”

  “And is it working in my favor?”

  A smile flirted with her lips. “I don’t know yet. Do you play?”

  Fairly certain he wasn’t under siege, he moved into the room and sat beside her on the piano bench.

  “Chopsticks. I could probably mangle ‘Jingle Bells.’ The piano was my grandmother’s. I keep it for sentimental reasons.” He watched her slender hands, hands that could sew incredibly fine stitches in a head wound and make beautiful music, too. “Where are the girls?”

  “Upstairs with Maria. I was banished from the room. Maria gives ‘funner’ baths.”

  “We’ll get you up to speed in the fun department.”

  She merely raised a brow. The melody she played so smoothly was working its way under his skin, a hauntingly sensual tune he couldn’t place. He only knew it evoked emotions.

  “I don’t recognize this song.”

  This time, she did smile. “I went through a song-writing phase when I was twelve. This is one of the results. I’m surprised I remember it.”

  Amazing. He wondered what it had been like to compose music at twelve and enter medical school when she was still in her teens. The knowledge in her head must be incredibly vast, far superior to the average person’s, yet she never let on, never talked above anyone.

  “You are one of the most intriguing women I’ve ever known.”

  She glanced at him but didn’t comment. Was this mysterious air deliberate? Or simply the self-assurance of a very strong woman? He imagined it was the latter.

  “Tell me about your family,” he said.

  “You ask a lot of questions.” Her dark-blond hair fell forward as she concentrated on the notes of a new tune she’d segued into.

  “I’m trying to distract you from being mad at me.” He brushed back the lock of hair that was hiding her expression and was pleased to see her smiling. “It’s working, isn’t it.”

  “You’re an impossible man. Despite the fact that I’m not interested in a relationship—with anyone,” she said, her fingers coming down harder on the keys, “it was wrong of you to warn them off.”

  “I apologize.”

  Her hands stilled on the keyboard. The abrupt absence of sound pulsed louder in his ears than the wail of a siren.

  She turned slightly and looked into his eyes, obviously gauging his sincerity and searching for his usual flirting.

  He gazed right back at her steadily. Because he was genuinely sorry. “I had no right to talk about you when you were out of the room.”

  She nodded, and he could see in her eyes that she wasn’t a woman who held a grudge.

  “Thank you. I accept your apology. Just don’t let it happen again.”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “I didn’t ask the dog to make a promise, and you already told me you were never a Boy Scout. Pick another.”

  “Okay. On my honor.”

  “That one I do trust.”

  She said it so easily he was momentarily startled into silence. It was a compliment he hadn’t expected and one that made his ego soar. He wanted to just sit here and bask in her praise, but he was afraid something would break the tenuous truce, the easiness between them. He didn’t often catch her with her guard down.

  “Play something else.” He winked at her. “You said it soothes you. I’d hate to break the spell.”

  “Why? Are you going to make me mad again?”

  “God, I hope not.”

  Kelly put her hands back on the keys, sifted through the files in the music niche of her mind and began to play a Christmas carol. She didn’t consciously think of the notes. They simply flowed.

  “You’re really good.”

  “Thank you. Once I learn something, I rarely forget it.”

  “You must have run your folks ragged.”

  “Mmm. That’s probably why I was an only child. I guess I was a handful.” It felt good to play the piano again. It had been years since she’d taken time for it.

  “You’re close to your parents?”

  “Very. Dad gave up a medical practice and became the CEO of his own computer firm. He’s still a workaholic and swears he’ll never retire. You’ll meet him because he’ll be out here for Christmas. I told you my mom’s gone. I miss her.” She still caught herself wanting to pick up the phone to share something exciting with her mother, only to remember she couldn’t.

  It was the same with Candy. Even though Candy was very much alive, she was no longer the best friend Kelly had believed she could count on. There were moments when she forgot, was halfway to the phone before she remembered. And remembering hurt all over again. She’d had so few chances to build friendships. The one she’d managed had turned out to be false.

  She felt Chance’s hand sweep over her back, a gentle touch that soothed, and her thoughts shifted back to her childhood.

  “Sometimes I think my parents didn’t know quite what to do with me. My curiosity was insatiable. I wanted to learn and absorb as much as possible, as fast as possible. It was like an obsession, you know?”

  “Mmm, not really. I was a hell-raiser and would just as soon have skipped school. Luckily, learning came easy for me and my grades were mostly As. But it wasn’t an obsession.”

  She glanced at him. He did have the look of a bad boy about him. He had, in fact, an innate gentleness he probably wasn’t even aware of.

  He had his elbow propped on the piano, his head resting on his palm, his gaze steady on hers. She couldn’t recall ever being the absolute sole center of a man’s attention before. It made her nervous.

  She stopped playing, took her hands off the keys and put them in her lap. The cut on his head was healing nicely, she noted. She’d need to remove the stitches in a couple of days. “I bet you were the kind of kid who brought home every wounded animal and nursed it back to health.”

  “Yeah.” He smiled. “It was tough on my image.”

  Kelly chuckled. “I didn’t run into many stray animals in the city.” The fire warming her back and the smell of the tamales Maria was making for supper lulled her into a realm of serenity she wasn’t used to feeling.

  “I was plagued with this constant sense of anxiety, like a scream was right there at the back of my throat, and if I didn’t keep going, faster and faster, if I stopped to take a breath, the scream would rip loose. We had quite a family argument when I wanted to skip high school and go right into college.”

  He straightened and his thigh pressed more firmly against hers. “Did you ever outrun the scream?”

  “Yes. Age and accomplishments tamed the restlessness.”

  He lifted one of her hands from her lap, brushed his thumb over her knuckles, then brought it to his lips and pressed an incredibly soft kiss there, his gaze holding hers.

  She drew in a breath, held it. A different kind of scream was building now. A sexual one. “What was that for
?”

  He shook his head. “You never really were a kid, were you.”

  “Of course I was.”

  “Were you? Do you have little-girl memories of tea parties with your teddie bears or playing jacks or jumping rope?”

  No, she didn’t. She raised a brow. “You know about these things?”

  “Heck, yes, I have two sisters. I’ve attended my share of tea parties.”

  She’d told herself she could resist his charm, had every intention of doing so. But when he looked at her with those blue eyes filled with an intoxicating mixture of mischief and sensuality, she felt as though she was drowning.

  Without thought, without will, she leaned toward him, mesmerized, drawn by a power she simply couldn’t fight.

  “Mommy! Mommy! We had bubbles in the bathtub!”

  She jerked back to her senses. Jessica and Kimmy charged into the room, their hair caught up in pigtails, their robes flapping behind them like Zorro’s and Batman’s capes.

  Chance turned and caught Kimmy up in his arms as Jessica scrambled onto Kelly’s lap. Scout skidded on the rug and nearly slid under the tree.

  “Bubbles?” Kelly looked up at Maria. The woman stood beaming in the doorway, the front of her shirt and the knees of her pants wet.

  “Yeah. And Scout sneezed in the water and got it all over the place and on Maria, too.”

  “I can see.” She sent an apologetic look toward the housekeeper, who was fast becoming a surrogate grandmother to the girls. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “Oh, a little water is nothing. The tamales will be ready to come out of the oven in ten more minutes. Everything else is in the refrigerator. I will see you both in the morning.”

  “Bye, Maria!” Jessica shouted, obviously filled with more energy than she knew what to do with. She bounced on Kelly’s lap and pressed a couple of keys on the piano. “Play ‘Jingle Bells,’ Mommy.”

  Kelly looked at Chance. Kimmy’s pigtails were caught high on her head like puppy ears, brushing the underside of his chin. “Didn’t you say that was one of your specialties?”

  He grinned at her. “I said I mangle it. You play and we’ll sing. Kimmy can hum, though I doubt we’ll be able to hear her over Jess’s voice.” He shot a look at the dog. “Scout, you keep quiet. He can’t carry a tune,” he said in a stage whisper to the girls.

  Jessica giggled. Kimmy peeked around him at the dog as though assuring herself there were no hurt feelings, then glanced up at Chance with a smile so sweet Kelly held her breath, certain words were about to follow.

  Chance, too, seemed frozen in suspense.

  Then Kimmy laid her cheek against his chest and the moment was lost.

  Kelly wanted to weep.

  And when Chance cupped a hand gently over her baby daughter’s cheek and dropped an absent kiss to the top of her little head, Kelly knew she was a goner.

  “Play, woman,” he said. “We’ve got five minutes before we have to rescue the tamales.”

  Kelly plucked out the opening notes of “Jingle Bells,” and tried like mad to rein in her emotions.

  Nothing got to a woman faster than a man who openly adored her kids.

  Chapter Seven

  Since Chance didn’t keep regular office hours, Kelly’s work schedule was pretty much part-time and she was home the next day by early afternoon. Maria usually stayed for the rest of the day and prepared dinner, but she’d left early today.

  Kelly went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, wondering if she should fix dinner for the four of them or just for herself and the girls. After all, she was a boarder in Chance’s house, not living with him. It wasn’t up to her to make sure he ate.

  Oh, she didn’t know what to do, and she disliked uncertainty. It left her wide open for the restlessness to set in, the anxiety that pushed her to stay busy every moment.

  She’d been doing better lately, taking more time for herself and the kids. But the screams sneaked up on her sometimes. She’d told Chance she’d outrun them. But she hadn’t. Not completely.

  The back door opened and Chance came in, bringing the cold air and the fresh scent of winter with him.

  Kelly slammed the refrigerator door like a thief caught raiding the pantry.

  “Hi. Uh, I was just thinking about dinner. Maria left early. I really should go to the market, bring in more groceries. We never set any guidelines or rules about the division of supplies and—”

  “Kelly?”

  “What?”

  “It’s Thursday.”

  She frowned, wondered if she’d missed something. “So?”

  “So, Thursday nights are dinner at Brewer’s.”

  “They are?”

  “It’s tradition.”

  “Oh. Of course. Well, you go on ahead and I’ll just fix supper for me and the kids.”

  He laughed. “Oh, no, you don’t. I took plenty of flack on Thanksgiving when you bowed out. I’m not sitting through Thursday dinner with half the town glaring at me.”

  “But we’re not a couple. Why would they expect us to come together?”

  He took his hat off, tossed it on the counter and walked toward her. Kelly had an urge to back up. He looked like a man with something on his mind. And that something might well be her.

  When her back hit the counter, she was forced to stop, trapped with nowhere else to go. “Chance—”

  “It’s a little late to worry about folks thinking we’re a couple. They’ll think what they want regardless of the facts. But you’re not sending me off to face that pack of meddlers alone.”

  He sounded so horrified, she laughed, even though she suspected he was putting on an act. “Really, Chance—”

  “Don’t make me have to resort to blackmail.”

  “And just what do you have to blackmail me with?”

  “Two little girls. Want me to call them now so we can take a vote?”

  “You’re a heartless man.”

  “Ah, no, Hollywood. I’ve got plenty of heart.” His gaze was like a caress. Then he winked. “It’s courage I’m lacking. You can’t send me off to face everybody on my own. They’ve unofficially put me in charge of seeing to it that you and the girls join all the festivities.”

  She sighed. “What should I wear?”

  He stared at her as though she’d asked him whether the snow was going to melt in the next five minutes. Well, darn it, she didn’t know what people in Montana wore to Thursday-night dinner.

  “You’re fine just as you are.” His gaze traveled over her with a masculine appreciation that was impossible to miss. “Nice tight jeans, flirty little sweater.”

  She tugged at the hem of her sweater. It was cropped, designed to only reach the waistband of her jeans. At the moment she felt as though it was a bikini top—and totally inappropriate for a Montana winter.

  Chance grinned. “It’s no wonder you’re always cold. You’re not wearing enough clothes. Not that I’ve got anything against a lack of clothes, mind you.”

  “Chance?”

  “Hmm?” His eyes were still checking out the front of her sweater and jeans, obviously waiting for her to shift and expose part of her middle.

  “You better quit while you’re ahead.”

  “Mmm. Progress. I like being ahead. I’ll go get the girls. You put on some boots. There’ll probably be dancing.”

  “Wait,” she said to his retreating back. “You never said anything about dancing.”

  “Girls!” he hollered, ignoring her. “Grab your coats. We’re going to town for dinner. Burgers and milk shakes.”

  Her jaw dropped and she put her hands on her hips. “Now you’ve done it. Do you cheat at cards, too?” She refused to be swayed by that sexy dimple in his cheek.

  “You said I was ahead.”

  “You just lost all your points.”

  He laughed. “I like you, Kelly Anderson.”

  “Yeah, well the jury’s still out on you.”

  BREWER’S SALOON was lively and festive, filled with to
wnsfolk and decorations. Garlands hung in loops from the bar with shiny red balls hooked onto them, the pictures on the walls were wrapped in bright paper to look like presents, and a ten-foot tree stood in the corner with gifts already beneath it.

  As they walked past the door to hang up their jackets, an irreverent moose belted out “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” and went right on singing, its furry mouth flapping. Chance figured they’d be pretty sick of the song before the night was over, since the crazy thing was motion-activated and there was a lot of motion in here.

  He took Jessica and Kimberly’s coats, but kept his eye on Kelly. He could tell she was nervous and he wanted to put his arm around her and assure her everything would be fine. He suspected that would offend her sense of independence, though, and send her into her ruffled-feathers mode.

  He had an idea being a child prodigy had set her apart from people—she’d have been too old for kids her age and too young for the peers on her intellectual level. Tough life.

  He helped her off with her coat, noted that she’d added a T-shirt under the flirty sweater.

  “Aw, you put another shirt on.”

  “I didn’t want my belly button to get frostbite.”

  “I’d have kept it warm for you.”

  She gave him a look of warning, which he had no intention of heeding. He figured it was best not to tell her that just yet.

  “Shall we go into the back room and be sociable?”

  She shrugged. “You lead, we’ll follow.”

  He slung an arm around her shoulders. “My sisters told me never, ever to take off across a room and leave a lady to follow behind.”

  “Yes, well, I appreciate their forward thinking and all, but we don’t want to give the wrong impression and encourage Ozzie and his friends. Are you sure they’re actually trying to matchmake?”

  He laughed. “Let me give you a few examples.” With his arm still casually around her shoulders and his head close to hers, he pointed.

  “See Wyatt and Hannah Malone over there? Hannah was Wyatt’s mail-order bride, except he didn’t advertise for her. The geezers did.” He nodded to the left. “Ethan and Dora Callahan? The old guys arranged for Dora to show up at a bachelor auction. Ethan was on the auction block. She bought a date for his daughter—who he didn’t know he had.”