Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in TexasThe Cowboy's DestinyA Baby for the DoctorThe Bull Rider's Family

by Linda Warren

  The next few days passed quickly. Mamie planned to arrive in Los Angeles on Wednesday for her conference. On Thursday, Rod was going to collect her from her hotel at 4:00 p.m. and bring her to the house so she could enjoy dinner with everyone and meet Anya prior to the sonogram.

  But on Thursday morning, everything changed. A disgruntled Jack caught Anya in the hallway of the hospital.

  “Can we reschedule the ultrasound?” It turned out his mom had to attend a press conference early that evening for her Haitian charity, he explained. “She apologized profusely and swears she can come Friday afternoon.”

  “I’m not sure. It was hard to make arrangements for a weekday evening, let alone a Friday.” Because of Dr. Cavill-Hunter’s overnight shifts in labor and delivery, her office hours didn’t start until 6:00 p.m.

  “Mamie can’t attend in the evening. Her flight’s at 7:30 p.m., and she has to be at the airport an hour and a half early.” As usual, Jack referred to his mother by her first name.

  It struck Anya that Mamie would be missing tonight’s dinner, too, on which Jack had spent a small fortune. He’d bought steaks and was planning on making twice-baked potatoes stuffed with cheese. But that was less important than the sonogram.

  “I don’t suppose my doctor has to be there,” Anya conceded. “And it will be easier to find a tech to work during the day.”

  “Adrienne can review the results with us later.” His gaze locked onto Anya’s.

  “Let me see what I can set up. I’m just sorry she’ll miss your delicious cooking.” Anya hoped he didn’t think she was criticizing his mother.

  Jack shrugged. “Mamie has a tendency to play the drama queen. But it sounds like this is an important press conference. There are major potential donors in the L.A. area.”

  “It’s a worthy cause,” Anya agreed, although she only vaguely recalled the nature of the project—something about providing security for Haitian women living in tent encampments. “We’ll figure out the ultrasound.”

  That proved more difficult than expected. Dr. Tartikoff had scheduled a complex surgery for early Friday afternoon and was relying on Jack to assist. The sometimes crusty head of the fertility program, on learning of the circumstances, promised to free Jack by 3:30 p.m., but that was the best he could do.

  Locating an ultrasound tech presented further problems. Zora had back-to-back assignments and another tech was out with the flu. It would be unfair to bump a patient who’d had her session planned weeks in advance.

  “I’m sorry,” Zora told Anya over lunch. “I’m disappointed I’m going to miss out on meeting the famous Mamie Ryder, too.” Rod had been regaling the dinner table all week with tales of his sister’s colorful exploits around the world.

  “I’ll fill you in,” Anya responded distractedly. Her main concern was that the ultrasound might not take place this week at all. She was trying not to dwell on the implications of meeting Jack’s mother.

  “I’ll do it myself,” Jack said a short time later when she informed him she couldn’t find a tech. She’d spotted him in the busy corridor just outside the cafeteria. “Performing sonograms was part of my training.”

  “Aren’t you a little rusty?” she asked.

  He steered her out of the path of a gurney being pushed by a volunteer. “You mean like performing an operation with a rusty knife?”

  “Ouch!”

  Jack laughed. “I assure you, I’m competent. And it isn’t an invasive procedure, so I can’t very well cause harm.”

  Anya thought of a plus. “Also, you get to show off for your mother.”

  “She is proud of my accomplishments,” he assured her. “Mamie’s seen me operate, via remote camera. She found it fascinating.”

  It was good to hear him speaking well of his mother. In fact, this past week, he’d spoken up during Rod’s tales, adding a few flattering details about Mamie. Squelching an uneasy sense that he and his mother might soon join forces against her, Anya said, “I’ll line up an examining room, then.”

  “Thanks.” Jack traced a finger across her cheek.

  She stepped back, surprised at the tender gesture given in full public view. “Have you forgotten how bad the gossips are around here?”

  “You mean they’ll be shocked that two people having a baby together show signs of affection?” he teased.

  She chuckled. “You never know.”

  On Friday, despite Anya’s efforts to train her mind away from the upcoming procedure, she became increasingly nervous as 3:30 p.m. approached. She’d lined up a room and made sure ultrasound equipment would be available. And, she reminded herself, she already knew the baby’s gender. So what was the big deal?

  Yet she dropped her purse twice in the nurses’ locker room and arrived at Dr. Cavill-Hunter’s office on the second floor of the medical building before recalling that the sonogram was to take place on the third floor where Jack shared quarters with Dr. Tartikoff.

  It was 3:25 p.m. Afraid she might be keeping him and his mother waiting, Anya took the stairs up a floor rather than wait for the elevator. As she climbed, she noticed how tightly her jeans were fitting, a reminder she’d soon have to buy maternity clothes. By twelve weeks, some women were already ballooning. Anya had made a point of eating moderately, hoping to delay displaying her condition to the world as long as possible.

  She wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer, though. Not that many people weren’t already aware of her situation anyway.

  Anya put her shoulder to the heavy third-floor door. She’d barely wedged it open and was shimmying through when the phone rang in her pocket.

  Another change of plans? She plucked it out.

  Ruth.

  Oh, great timing. Irritably, Anya sent the call to voice mail, but she was so nervous she must’ve tapped the wrong spot. “Anya?” came her sister’s voice. “Hello?”

  If she cut off the call now, Ruth would take offense. And with good reason.

  Anya put the phone to her ear. “I’m here. Listen, this is a bad time.”

  “I’d hoped you’d be off work by now.”

  She was off work, but Anya couldn’t explain to her sister what she was really doing. “Uh, I am. But there’s a meeting.”

  “You haven’t responded about the birthday party.” Barely pausing for breath, Ruth pressed on, “Everyone’s counting on you. Grandma would be heartbroken if you aren’t here. You’re her favorite grandchild.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Including cousins, the third-generation count reached well into the double digits.

  “It’s obvious to everyone but you.” Ruth must have prepared to go on this offensive before she placed the call. “You’ll be arriving a few days early, as we agreed, right?”

  “We didn’t agree.” Tensely, Anya wondered if her voice carried into the nearby offices. “I’m not in a place where I can talk.”

  “Are you coming or not?”

  She nearly responded in the negative. But why should she let Ruth’s bossiness prevent her from honoring her grandmother? She’d learned over the past few weeks that her duck-and-run philosophy could cheat her out of some very happy moments. Instead, she decided to address the real problem. “I’m not running a day care center. People can watch their own children.”

  “Selfish as always!” Her sister’s ragged voice rose to a shrill note. She sounded tired and resentful—and was aiming it all at Anya. “Everyone’s pitching in, although most of the work falls on me, as usual.”

  “You live there,” Anya pointed out. “Besides—”

  “It isn’t my fault you chose to move to California,” Ruth went on. “I’ve got four kids and I’m carrying another.”

  “Somebody else can take up the slack.” Although Ruth might be the oldest of the cousins, that shouldn’t obligate her to run every family gathering.

  “That’s what I’m trying to do,” her sister snapped. “I’m delegating. And your job is supervising the children.”

  “I appreciate how hard you�
��re working.” Guiltily, Anya conceded that she hadn’t given her sister enough credit for bringing everyone together. “It isn’t fair for everyone to assume you’ll organize the whole party. But parents can make their own babysitting arrangements. I wouldn’t expect someone else to take care of my child, if I had one.”

  “But you don’t. You’re too busy living it up, being single and hanging out at the beach.” Now, where had Ruth picked up that idea? “You’re letting everyone down—as always.”

  Anya badly wanted out of this conversation. Not to mention that her watch was edging past 3:30 p.m. “We each make our own choices.”

  “If that’s how you feel, just stay home!” The call went dead.

  Ruth had hung up on her? Despite the temptation to call back, Anya turned off her phone. Discussion tabled until whenever. But she was glad she’d stood up for herself.

  She let herself into the waiting room. Several women looked up from their magazines. At the receptionist station, she spotted nurse Ned Norwalk.

  “Come on in.” He indicated the interior door.

  A patient frowned in her direction. Because Anya had changed out of her uniform, the woman might have assumed she was jumping the line to see the doctor.

  Must be my day to tick people off.

  Anya hurried to the designated room. Inside, she found Jack alone with the portable ultrasound equipment plugged in and ready for action.

  His white coat was much more flattering than operating scrubs, and no ugly cap covered his thick dark hair. Half his patients probably had crushes on him, Anya reflected. Well, so had she, until...

  Actually, she still did. But that was irrelevant.

  “I’d have been here sooner, but my sister called at the worst possible moment.” She kicked off her shoes.

  “I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Would you like me to leave the room while you change?”

  That seemed silly, Anya thought as she picked up the hospital gown set out for her. “Just turn your back.”

  “As my lady wishes.”

  After he swung to face the door, she shed her clothes and put on the gown. “Where’s your mom?”

  “Rod called. They’ll be here any minute.”

  That raised another potential problem. “About your uncle...”

  Jack squared his shoulders. “You’d rather he wasn’t here.”

  “Right.”

  “I don’t like the way he treats you either. You don’t want him here, so he won’t be.”

  Anya tied the gown in front, a fruitless task because it gaped open. Who had designed these things, a Peeping Tom?

  “Ready.” She sat on the edge of the examining table.

  Jack came alongside her. From this position, he towered over her, yet the gentleness of his expression soothed her. Stretching out, Anya quivered at the realization that he was about to touch her bare abdomen and run his hands over her.

  As a doctor. But also as a father.

  “We should start. My mother has a tight timetable.” He picked up the scanning paddle, which reminded Anya of a computer mouse. “I’m out of practice, so it may take me a while to find the right angle.”

  She leaned back, her head slightly elevated by the table. “You can take pictures, too, right?”

  “Yes! Don’t let me forget. First baby pictures.” Gently, Jack spread gel on her stomach. “It’s a little chilly. Sorry.”

  Anya scarcely noticed. She was too keenly aware of his large hand stroking the gel across her abdomen. “No problem.”

  “At this point, the tech would normally explain that the paddle emits very high frequency sound waves, above the range of human hearing,” he said. “That’s where we get the word sound in ultrasound.”

  “And they bounce off structures inside me to produce an image,” she finished. Sonography was used in many types of medical diagnosis, as Anya was well aware.

  “Structures,” he repeated as he laid the paddle on her tummy. “Otherwise known as the baby.” His intake of breath belied his clinical tone.

  On the monitor, gray tones shifted and seethed. For all Anya could tell, the darker shapes might be her kidneys or her bladder—oops, better not think about that, with the device pressing down right there.

  Then she saw, unmistakably, a tiny backbone visible through the fetus’s nearly translucent skin. The paddle moved, and into view came a beating heart, the rhythm faster than an adult’s. As Jack adjusted the paddle, she discerned the shape of a curled baby, from its head to its rump, arms and legs moving.

  “She’s wiggling,” she said, astonished even though she should have expected this. “A lot. I can’t feel her yet.”

  “That’s because she’s only about two inches long. She has plenty of room for gymnastics.” On the equipment, Jack flipped a switch and the rushing, thumping sound of a heartbeat engulfed the room.

  A glow filled Anya, a miraculous sense of the person inside her—those fingers and toes already formed. Tiny eyes stared about almost as if the baby could see her parents.

  Jack drew in a ragged breath. “This is unbelievable. I’ve watched a lot of ultrasounds and delivered a lot of babies. But this is different. It’s our daughter.”

  Pulling her gaze from the screen, Anya noticed tears misting his eyes. He became blurry until she blinked and cleared her own tears.

  She’d been fighting this connection for months, and now it nearly overwhelmed her. When the baby twitched, Anya could have sworn she made out a tiny nose shaped like her own.

  She’d never understood how women could swear that once they held their baby, they almost immediately forgot the anguish of childbearing. Now, though, she teetered on the edge of forgetting the pain, not of childbearing but of child-rearing.

  Endless piles of diapers, uncounted bottles to warm, cries in the night driving sleep to oblivion as each baby woke up her sisters. But Anya wasn’t carrying triplets as her mother had. This was a single small girl.

  Jack swallowed. “Look at her. She’s really there, Anya. Our daughter.”

  Your daughter. She meant to say that aloud, but the words caught in her throat.

  She’s my daughter, too.

  The door flew open. Startled, Anya realized she’d forgotten they were expecting company.

  With a swish of fabric, a flood of exotic perfume and a flash of color, a dark-haired woman swept into the room. Tall and slim, she had spiky short hair and sharp eyes. Brilliant blocks of red, yellow and green marked her long halter dress.

  As Jack switched off the Doppler sound of the baby’s heartbeat, Anya stared at the apparition who’d just joined them.

  “I’m here! We can start now.” Her gleaming smile encompassed them both in the greeting.

  Mamie Ryder had arrived.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jack’s first response, to his astonishment, was irritation. Did his mother have to arrive now?

  This was his and Anya’s private moment, their first meeting with their daughter. He’d seen Anya’s resistance melting and her heart opening. Couldn’t Mamie have given them a few more minutes?

  Grudgingly, he bit down on his reaction. “Mamie,” he greeted her—even when he was small, she’d preferred he use her name because “Mommy” made her feel old. “I’d give you a hug, but...” He lifted the paddle.

  “Don’t let me interrupt,” she sang out. “Sorry I’m late. We hit a ridiculous amount of traffic.”

  “Not that much,” Rod observed, entering behind her, his fedora slightly askew as if he’d run from the parking garage. “We were late leaving the hotel.”

  “All that packing.” Mamie smiled at Anya. “This must be the new mommy. Hi. I’m Mamie.”

  “Nice to meet you.” True to form, Anya wasted no words.

  When her attention flicked to Rod, Jack recalled his promise. He zeroed in on his uncle. “Thanks for driving and for waiting outside.”

  Rod’s mouth opened and promptly shut. “It is a bit crowded in here. I’ll be out
there playing with my phone.”

  That had been easy. Perhaps chauffeuring Mamie had proved trying. Jack spared no sympathy for his uncle, considering that it had been Rod’s idea to invite her.

  All the same, he appreciated that his mother had made the trip to Southern California.

  Despite being in her early fifties, she struck him as ageless. Only twenty-one when he was born, she’d been a youthful mom, full of energy and vitality. In absentia, Mamie might inspire disappointment or even resentment, but in person, she was a force of nature.

  Jack indicated the screen. “There she is. Our little girl.”

  Setting down her shopping bag, Mamie advanced toward the monitor. “My goodness.” She frowned. “Are you sure it’s a girl?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Then what’s that?” She indicated something poking from between the baby’s legs.

  “It’s the umbilical cord.” He moved the paddle to show a better angle.

  “Oh. I see!” She searched for another comment. “Have you picked a name?”

  “No.” Jack doubted that Junior-ette qualified.

  “My mother’s name was Lenore,” Mamie reminded him. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “It is.” Jack became aware of Anya taking in this scene with a puzzled expression. He, too, was wondering when his mother would show the sense of wonder he and Anya had felt when they first glimpsed their child.

  She will. Give her time.

  “What was your pregnancy like?” Anya asked. “With Jack, I mean.”

  “In what respect?”

  Anya rephrased the question. “Was it complicated? Or did it go smoothly?”

  Mamie blinked. “I’m afraid I’ve forgotten. Honestly, my late husband was much more excited than I was.”

  Jolted, Jack stood there numbly. Did his mother have any idea what she’d just revealed?

  “Well, you did a good job.” Anya deserved credit for filling the pause before it could lengthen uncomfortably.

  “Oh, I’m very proud of my son.” Mamie’s smile lacked warmth, as if she were reciting a line she’d rehearsed.