by Linda Warren
“Why can’t I take it personally?”
“It might go to your head,” she whispered in his ear and rubbed her soft core against him.
“And that’s a problem?” He could scarcely breathe as she reawakened his senses.
“The other nurses already fall at your feet.”
“Who cares about them?” he answered, struggling to concentrate on what he was saying. But it was a lost cause because the rest of him had become supercharged.
“That was fast,” Anya murmured.
“Let’s not waste it.” He lifted her until she slid onto him again. Then Jack rolled Anya onto the sheets. When her legs wrapped around him, he lost himself in her. The sensation of belonging was so intense, it filled him again and again, just as his body filled hers.
His climax came like the roll of a heated ocean, wave after wave beneath a fiery, liquid sky. No horizon, no limits, only a glorious shared blaze.
In an aftermath like a summer sunset, Jack held Anya among the tangled sheets. “I love you.” He let the words linger for only a second before he said, “Did I mention that I love you?”
“Twice.”
“As many times as we made love,” he teased.
She nuzzled him without speaking. She hadn’t responded that she loved him, too, but then, Anya wasn’t the type to blurt something like that out on impulse.
While she was thinking it over, Jack decided to go for broke. “Marry me,” he said.
* * *
GROWING UP, Anya had instinctively censored her own wishes and interests, her mind echoing with her father’s imagined disapproval. So her dream—and increasingly urgent need—had become to truly be herself, independent and free of intrusive criticism and judgment.
Now, her love for Jack nearly smothered that need. Oh, how she yearned to shout “Yes!” and transform into the bride doll atop the wedding cake. To lie beside him every night, to share the precious moments as their baby grew, to talk earnestly and to sit silently, always and forever.
A fine fantasy. Reality had a nasty way of intruding, though.
And now she had to choose: take what her heart wanted or insist on what her soul demanded. How could she give Jack up, especially now that he’d trusted her with his future? After the emotional desertion Jack had suffered from his mother, after the betrayal he’d seen devastate his uncle, he was still willing to reach out to her.
“Anya?” Jack propped himself on one elbow. Half covered by a sheet, the man was spectacular. Rather than the bulked-up build of a jock, he had a solid, well-muscled strength coupled with the delicate skills of a surgeon.
She had to stop thinking such things. Or did she?
“I love you, too.” Anya took a shaky breath.
A relieved smile curved his mouth. “Was that so difficult?”
“Huh.”
“I guess that’s a yes.” His forefinger tapped the tip of her nose. “Now say yes to the other part.”
Marry me. “I can’t,” she said miserably.
His muscles stiffened. “Can’t or won’t?”
“Marriage is too big a step.” Did they have to go that far, involving the rest of the world in their private business? Maybe they could meet in the middle. “I have an alternate proposal.”
Skepticism warred with hope in his expression. “Shoot.”
“Let’s live together.” That wasn’t the same, Anya knew, but she forged on. “Plenty of people do.” And if they weren’t married, he’d have no right to assume he owned her. Not that Jack acted bossy now, but marriage changed people. A nurse she’d worked with in Denver had been deliriously happy after her honeymoon, only to be stunned at how demanding her bridegroom soon became about her cooking, her spending habits and her occasional girls’ nights out.
“Live together for how long?” Jack asked warily.
She hadn’t considered that. “To raise the baby.”
“Twenty years?” His tone was dubious.
“That sounds about right.”
“What if we decide to have a second child?”
Anya clapped her hands against the sides of her head. “Honestly, Jack!”
“It wasn’t a joke. You’re refusing to commit to me or to a family,” he accused.
“I refuse to be boxed into a role,” she countered. “Taken for granted. Assigned to childcare for the duration.”
Sitting up against the headboard, Jack blew out a frustrated breath, then folded his arms. Was he angry? She couldn’t tell.
“I am willing to make a commitment.” Anya sat up, too. “Only not the formal, public kind. I love you, Jack. I’ll never love anybody else.” She was growing teary again, darn it. “But you’re a powerful guy, the lord of the operating room. You might get full of yourself. Don’t argue. You’ll start taking for granted that you’re my boss at home, too. And I can’t bear that.”
He studied her. “Marriage scares you.”
“You could say that.” She bit her lip before adding, “Does it have to be all or nothing?”
“You know my family history.”
Yes, she did. And he knew hers. “Marriage is no guarantee of permanence.”
“Hmm.” The cryptic response was maddening. Like the cryptic responses I usually make.
“I’ll communicate better, I promise,” she volunteered.
He still didn’t answer. Anya leaned back. He’d allowed her to think things over, and she had to do the same.
* * *
A BEAUTIFUL ANYA strolling down the aisle in a white dress, the moment when he slid the ring onto her finger, the celebration with their friends and family—all recorded to enjoy when they were old. Such things mattered. Most of all, Jack craved the vow to always be there for each other. How could he accept anything less?
Glancing at her sweet little face—knowing how stubborn she could be, but also how funny and warm—his heart squeezed. He loved her. She loved him, too. Anya had said so straight out, and she never babbled easy words.
It all boiled down to trust, Jack reflected. And whether this was a risk worth taking.
Would she stick with him? If they faced serious medical issues or a financial crisis, would the absence of marriage vows make a difference? He suspected it might. But he understood, too, what a wedding represented to Anya.
They each had to trust the other. In the meantime, they both had to give a little, too. “Okay,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“On one condition.”
Now her arms folded, making them a matched set. “What’s that?”
“Relationships hit rough patches—it’s inevitable,” Jack pointed out. “I have to be sure you won’t run for the hills when that happens.”
“I promise,” she said.
“Prove it.”
She looked startled. “How?”
“Face up to your family.” As her jaw dropped, he added, “I’ll go with you, if you want.”
She averted her gaze. “It’s next weekend.”
“So?” He’d clear his schedule. If any of his patients couldn’t wait, Zack Sargent owed him a favor, and he suspected Owen Tartikoff would fill in, too, when he heard the reason.
“They’ll all be there—my parents, my siblings, my cousins,” Anya said. “We should wait for a better occasion.”
“Not good enough.” He hated to push her. If she balked, they’d be back to square one. But their confused instincts—his to mistrust, hers to duck tough issues—were the greatest enemy to their future. “You’re stronger than you think, Anya, but you have to believe that, or every time we argue, I’ll wonder if I’m going to come home to an empty house.”
“I wouldn’t do that!”
“Are you sure?”
She swallowed. “Jack...”
He touched her hair, wondering what he’d do if she refused. “Hmm?”
She appeared to be thinking hard. “I’m not ready to answer you.”
“As you mentioned, the gathering’s next weekend, and I’
ll have to cancel appointments,” he reminded her.
“Give me twenty-four hours,” she said.
They were both getting a lot of practice at compromising, Jack mused. “Done.”
Her smile flashed, lighting up the room. Then she snuggled closer, and he was grateful for this truce, however long it lasted.
* * *
ANYA HAD LEFT by the time Rod came home. Jack refrained from mentioning her visit, although his uncle couldn’t miss the smell of his cooking and probably picked up other clues. The man was like a bloodhound.
Jack had no tolerance for his uncle’s prodding. His nerves were strung taut because his future was being decided inside Anya’s unpredictable brain.
Rod stuck a chunk of French bread into the toaster oven. “I’ve missed having leftovers.”
“I thought you ate dinner.” Jack loitered in the kitchen doorway.
“I grabbed a quick burger.” His uncle finger combed his hair.
“At the airport?”
“Nearby,” Rod explained. “Mamie didn’t want me to park, so I dropped her and her luggage at the curb. I presume she got off okay.”
“I’m sure she’s fine. She’s a seasoned traveler.” Jack never worried about his mother.
Rod laced his fingers on the table. “I owe you an apology.”
“For inviting her?”
He gave an embarrassed nod. “I figured this would be a watershed moment for my sister. Instead, she kept chattering about how great you looked, how nice Anya is and the marvels of modern technology. The woman saw her first grandchild in action and she didn’t have a word to say about it. Oh, except for asking what I thought about naming her Lenore.”
Jack chuckled. “What did you say?”
“I said that’s your and Anya’s decision.” Rod regarded him with a puzzled frown. “You don’t seem upset.”
“About what?” Mamie was the last thing on Jack’s mind.
“She owes you something,” his uncle said. “An apology for dumping you on our parents like a pet poodle. Now that it’s her turn to be a grandmother, she ought to act like one.”
“And you even missed the best part,” Jack replied. “She told Anya she scarcely remembers being pregnant with me, that my father was much more excited about it than she was.”
Rod smacked his forehead. “Jack, I’m sorry.”
“Since you’re the only relative I can rely on, I forgive you.”
A groan greeted this response. “You couldn’t rely on me this time. I let you down. I overestimated my sister.”
Jack shrugged. “Just because a person becomes a biological parent doesn’t mean she has nurturing instincts.” He recalled Anya’s insight. “Just as some people are tone deaf or color blind, others can’t handle intimacy.”
The toaster bell rang. Rod plucked out the hot bread. “That’s borderline profound. Is this Anya’s influence?”
“Yes.”
“I underestimated your girlfriend. On average, I came out even.” His uncle spread butter thickly. “Mind fetching that jar of preserves you hide in the lettuce bin?”
“I didn’t think you ever opened the lettuce bin.”
“Only when I’m searching for where you hide the preserves,” Rod said.
Yielding to the inevitable, Jack went to oblige.
* * *
WHEN ANYA GOT home, she found her housemates in the den, sharing a bottle of sparkling apple juice. If they noticed her tangled hair—she’d misplaced the brush she usually kept in her purse—they had the tact not to comment.
“Big day!” Melissa announced. “I don’t suppose Jack said anything to you about it.”
Said anything about what? So much had happened that Anya couldn’t sort through it all. “Jack doesn’t discuss his patients with me, if that’s what you mean.”
“Melissa was implanted,” Karen said. “With three embryos.”
“Congratulations.” Anya remembered the earlier dinner-table discussion. “Isn’t Zack Sargent your doctor?”
“Stricken with a sudden illness.” Lucky angled back the recliner, which he was hogging, as usual. “Stomach flu, I hear.”
Was there any gossip too minor to escape his radar? Anya wondered.
“I’m on pins and needles!” Ordinarily the calmest member of the household, Melissa fidgeted on the sofa. “I have to wait another week before I can take a pregnancy test.”
“I’m thinking positive. We’ll have a house full of babies.” Karen grinned at the prospect.
Not if I move in with Jack. Anya hadn’t considered how that would affect her housemates or Rod. She certainly didn’t intend to share a small apartment with him. Well, she’d deal with those issues later.
“It’s very unlikely the embryos will all attach,” Melissa reminded Karen.
“I’m sure at least one will,” her friend said. “And there’ll be two infants, anyway.”
“I thought Anya was giving hers up,” Lucky said.
“I didn’t mean...” Karen halted guiltily. She must have found out about Zora, and hadn’t meant to let it slip.
“Who else is pregnant?” Lucky demanded, and immediately answered his own question. “There’s only two possibilities, and if it were you, you’d be crowing from the rooftop.”
Sitting at the table apart from the others, Zora stared moodily into her glass of juice. “Just shut up about it.”
“Who’s the dad?” He broke off as the other women glared at him. “Yeah, I know, none of my business. Oh, please tell me it wasn’t break-up sex.”
Melissa steered the conversation away from Zora. “I’d be due in December,” she said. “Anya, you mentioned September, and, Zora—”
“November,” Zora muttered.
“If it’s a multiple birth, mine are likely to come early,” Melissa said. “In any event, it would be nice to set up a nursery. Lucky, you might have to move out.” She chuckled.
“First positive thing I’ve heard all day.” Zora barely cracked a smile, though. Something must have upset her, beyond the revelation about her pregnancy.
“I think I’ll go upstairs.” Anya didn’t have to fake a yawn. “Zora, you look tired, too.”
Her friend mirrored her yawn. “Yeah, I’ll go up, too.”
On the second floor, Anya said, “My room.”
But Zora turned away. “I need to sleep.”
“It’s way too early.” Anya caught her arm. “Come on. Don’t keep whatever it is bottled up inside.”
A sigh. “I suppose not.”
In Anya’s room, they settled on the window seat. Through the glass, she noted the darkening sky over the estuary, with stars appearing between the deep-blue-on-blue clouds. During her two months in this house, she’d grown to love this view.
“Did you tell Andrew about the baby?” Anya prodded.
“No.” Zora stared blearily at her hands. “I never got the chance. He...” She broke off.
“What did he do?”
“He got married in Las Vegas last weekend,” she choked out. “Betsy told me today. She waited till the end of the day because she knew how upset I’d be.”
“Did you mention that she’s going to be a grandmother?” Anya asked.
Zora shook her head.
“You are going to tell him about the baby, right?” Before her friend could answer, Anya added, “It’s not like Betsy won’t notice you’re pregnant.”
“Her first loyalty is to her son, not me,” Zora said miserably. “Oh, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. What about your day?” Gray eyes bored into hers. “What happened at the ultrasound? Did you meet Jack’s mother? And what were you doing for the past few hours?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Start anywhere.”
Anya sketched the day’s events. In retrospect, Mamie had been rather funny, except for her unhappy effect on Jack. As for the salmon dinner, she hoped he’d fix it again for her, soon. And the rest...she was still figuring that out. “If we move in together, hi
s cooking will be a big plus.” Along with a lot of other things.
“You guys are together.” Zora swallowed. “I should be glad for you. I am glad for you.”
“I’ll still be here for you.” Anya clasped her friend’s hands. “And I haven’t agreed to go to Colorado. Seriously, this whole business is kind of crazy. I’m not a mom. Just because my body betrayed me...”
“Are you out of your mind?” Zora’s thin face became more animated than it had been all evening. “You must be the stupidest person I ever met.”
Anya dropped her hands and scooted back a few inches, which was all the space she had. “Thanks a lot.”
“Shut up and listen.” Zora drew herself up. Even sitting down, she was taller than Zora. “That man’s in love with you. And you adore him, although the idea scares you half to death.”
“All the way to death.” Quickly Anya corrected, “It isn’t love that scares me. It’s marriage.”
“It’s relationships, with or without a license,” her friend insisted. “If I had a guy like Jack begging to marry me, I’d jump at the chance.”
“There are strings attached,” Anya said. “If I go to Colorado, it’ll be like Christmas all over again. My whole family trying to reorganize my life, laying guilt trips on me.”
“And if you don’t go?” Zora pressed.
Anya’s gaze fell on the end table, where an empty space reminded her of the African violet that had once lived there. “I can’t keep a plant alive.... I’m afraid I’ll be like his mother, with all the wrong instincts.” Now that she’d opened up, more truths spilled out. “Sometimes I hated my little sisters. I’d never have harmed them, but the weight of the responsibility was horrible. Every day, diapers and more diapers. Waking up all night, hearing their cries, and never being sure what was wrong or if I could help—I just wanted to run as far and as fast as I could.”
“What your parents did was unfair.” Zora seemed to have gained strength as she listened. “You shouldn’t have had to shoulder so much of their responsibilities. But, Anya, you’re only having one baby, not three. Plus most mothers get cranky with their kids once in a while. And you’ll have Jack to help.”
“I wish he wasn’t insisting I go to my grandmother’s birthday party. They plan to stick me with supervising the kids without even asking me if that’s okay.” She’d hardly have a free minute to spend with her grandma or anyone else.