Triplets for the Texan

by Janice Maynard

  “Decaf coffee?” he asked hopefully.

  “That, too.”

  “I’m in.”

  She unlocked the front door and tossed her keys on a table in the foyer. Hutch set the box on a chair and looked around with interest. “I like your house,” he said. “It looks like you.”

  Simone made her way to the kitchen, painfully aware that he followed closely at her heels. “How so?” She opened the refrigerator to cool her hot face and to hide for a moment. Her heart raced at a crazy tempo.

  “Modern. Stylish. Simple. Sophisticated.”

  Wow. Was that really how he saw her? While she put the coffee on to brew, Hutch perched on a stool at the bar. “Thank you,” she muttered. Was he thinking about all the money she had spent while he was caring for sick babies in terrible poverty? Was his compliment actually a veiled criticism?

  Maybe she was reading too much into a casual comment.

  “Where will you live now that you’re back?” she asked. “Somewhere near the hospital?”

  “Actually,” he said with a weary grin, “I’m going to be your neighbor. I’ll be closing on the brick colonial down the road soon.”

  “Oh.” She knew the house well. It was less than half a mile from her place. Was that a coincidence?

  Hutch shrugged. “I’m too old for bachelor digs. I wanted to put down roots.”

  “No more Doctors Without Borders?”

  “I don’t think so. It’s a young man’s game. I gave it more than five years of my life. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done, but it was time to come home.”

  “I’m sure your parents are delighted.” Hutch’s mother and father were both lawyers. They had raised their son to believe he could be or do anything he wanted. Hutch had excelled all the way through school, despite the occasional run-ins with bullies.

  “They were over the moon when they heard.”

  “Must be nice. My mom and dad drop by only when they want to lecture me about something. Of course, you probably remember that.” Her parents had been none too thrilled about their only daughter dating someone they hadn’t handpicked for her. Neither Hutch nor Simone had let the veiled disapproval dissuade them.

  Remembering the passionate affair and its inevitable end was something Simone managed to avoid. Mostly. But with Hutch in her kitchen, the memories came crashing back.

  The two of them had met at a party at the Cattleman’s Club. Simone had been barely twenty-two and ready to fall in love. The town had thought she was promiscuous—still did—but that was a facade she hid behind. If people wanted to look down their noses at her, she wasn’t going to stop them.

  Being introduced to Troy Hutchinson by a mutual acquaintance had been kismet. The moment she laid eyes on him, she knew he was the one. Though he was ridiculously handsome, it was his quiet, steady intelligence that drew her in. Hutch was no callow boy looking for an easy lay.

  He had talked to her, listened to her opinions. Danced with her. Laughed at her jokes. And in a secluded corner outside the club, he had kissed her. Even now she could remember everything about that magical moment. The way he smelled of lime and starched cotton. The sensation of feeling small and protected, though she was more than capable of taking care of herself. He was taller than she was and extremely fit, which made sense, of course, for someone who had devoted himself to the pursuit of medicine.

  “Simone? Hello in there...”

  Suddenly he was standing in front of her, his smile quizzical. “You’ve been stirring that cup of coffee for a long time.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. Did he know what she was thinking? Could he read her mind?

  “Here,” she said. “I fixed it the way you like it. Strong enough to peel paint and enough sugar to give you cavities.”

  He took the cup and sipped slowly, his eyes closing in bliss. “Now this is good coffee. Might even compete with the real stuff in Africa.”

  “I’m sure not everything was great. As I recall, you were a meat-and-potatoes guy, too. Not much prime beef where you were, I’d say.”

  “You’re right, of course. I lost twenty pounds after I arrived in Sudan and never quite gained it back.”

  “Let’s take our drinks into the den.” She grabbed a package of cookies out of the cabinet and led the way. Hutch chose a wing-backed chair near the dormant fireplace. Simone claimed one end of the sofa.

  He sat back with a sigh, balancing his cup on his flat abdomen. “You’ve done well for yourself, Simone. I’m proud of you. Everyone in town sings your praises—well, your ad agency’s praises,” he clarified.

  “That might be a stretch, but thanks. Hard work and a dollop of luck.”

  “I always knew you’d make your mark in Royal.”

  She frowned. Her ambition had been partly the cause of their breakup, but not from her perspective. She hadn’t wanted to stand in the way of Hutch’s dreams. When he’d offered to wait on Africa until her agency was established, she had insisted he should go. Hutch read that as a rejection. He thought she cared more about her business and money than about him. Stupid man.

  Still, that was a long time ago.

  For several long minutes they drank their coffee in silence. She was tired and queasy and sad. Seeing Hutch again was a painful reminder of how many times in her life she had made mistakes.

  Would she ever learn?

  At last, the silence became unbearable. She set her cup on a side table. “I think you should go now,” she said. “I don’t feel very well. I’d like to rest. And if I’m being honest, I’d rather not have people see your car in front of my house.”

  Three

  Hutch grimaced. Her words stung, even though they gave him an easy out.

  He had told himself he was indifferent to Simone now, but in his gut he knew the truth. The first moment he laid eyes on her in that exam room a week ago, he’d felt the same dizzying punch of desire he’d always experienced when he was with her.

  Panic swept through him like a sickening deluge. He couldn’t do that again. Not after what had happened in Sudan. It was better that Simone knew the score.

  She lost patience with his lack of verbal response. “If you have something to say, say it. I’ve had a long, stressful day, and I want to take a bath and get into bed.”

  I’d like to join you... His subconscious was honest and uncomfortable.

  The dark shadows beneath her beautiful eyes reminded him she was in a fragile state, both mentally and physically.

  The fact that he wanted so badly to hold her told him he had to protect himself.

  He stood and paced, his hands jammed in his pockets. “I understand why you want me to move my car. Now that I’m back in town and we’re both still single, the gossip mill will undoubtedly have us hooking up any day now. People may even say your triplets are mine.”

  Simone swallowed visibly. “Gossip isn’t reality.”

  “Maybe not. But I have to be up front with you. I’m not willing to get involved in a relationship.”

  She was pale and silent, her sapphire-eyed stare judging him. “I don’t recall asking you to. But to clarify, is your distaste for romance because of our past?”

  “Not entirely. I fell in love with a fellow doctor while I was in Sudan. Her name was Bethany.”

  For a split second, he could swear he saw anguish in Simone’s eyes. But if it was there, she recovered quickly.

  “You said was? Past tense?”

  He nodded jerkily. “She died two years ago. Cut her foot on a rock. Doctors make the worst patients, you know. She didn’t tell any of us how serious it was. Ended up with sepsis. I couldn’t save her.” Even now the memory sickened him.

  Simone leaned forward. “I am so sorry, Hutch.”

  Her sympathy should have soothed him. Instead, it made him feel guil
ty. “I’ll always be fond of you, Simone...and I’ll care about you. But I need you to know that’s all it will be.”

  She blinked. “I see.”

  “I suppose you think I’m assuming a hell of a lot to think you would even be interested after all this time.”

  “Not at all. You’re a gorgeous man. With a kind heart. I’m sure I won’t be the only woman in Royal who appreciates your sterling qualities.”

  “Aw, hell. You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe a little.” She smiled gently. “Six months ago your virtue might have been in danger. But now I have three babies to consider. Their welfare has to come before anything else in my life.”

  “Even romance?”

  “Especially romance.”

  “Then I guess we’ve cleared the air.”

  “I guess we have.”

  “I should go,” he said. But he didn’t move.

  Simone stood up, swaying a bit before she steadied herself with a hand on the back of the chair. “Yes, you should.”

  Squaring his shoulders, he nodded. The urge to kiss her was overpowering.

  She kept a hand on the chair, either because she felt faint or because she intended to use it as a shield. Either way, it didn’t matter. He wanted to taste her more than he wanted his next breath.

  He put his hands on her shoulders, noting the tension there. She wasn’t wearing shoes, so the difference in their heights was magnified. Winnowing his fingers through her hair, he sighed. “I should have come home a year ago. Then maybe I could have talked you out of this single-mom idea.”

  “Not your business, Doc.”

  It was as easy as falling into a dream. He had loved Bethany, deeply and truly. And grieved her passing. But this thing with Simone was something else. Did he dare explore the possibilities?

  Slowly, he moved his lips over hers, waiting for the protest that never came. She tasted of coffee and wonderful familiarity. But not comfort. Never comfort. There was too much heat. Too much yearning. When she went up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, he groaned. Five years. Almost six. Gone in a flash.

  He ran his hands over her back and landed on her bottom. She was thinner, but every bit as soft and appealing as she had ever been. Before he left for Sudan, when they were alone together, Simone had been unguarded...innocent. A far cry from the woman who tilted her chin and dared the world to disrespect her.

  Every beat of his heart was magnified. He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear...nipped her earlobe with his teeth. Simone did nothing to stop him. In fact, she didn’t even try to hide the fact that she wanted him. Temptation sank its teeth into his gut and didn’t let go. He was hard as a pike. The sofa was close by. Damn. How could he still want her so badly? No. This had to stop. Now.

  Dragging in great gulps of air, he broke free of the embrace, stumbled backward and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Does it make you happy to know I still want you?” he snarled. He felt like a fool.

  Simone’s expression was gaunt and defeated. “Not happy at all, Hutch. But message received. You have nothing to fear from me. I’d appreciate it if you would let yourself out.”

  * * *

  She waited until she heard the front door slam before bursting into tears. Sliding down the wall and curling up in a knot of misery on the hallway floor, she cried ugly, wretched sobs that left her throat raw and her chest hollow.

  She knew her hormones were all over the map, but it was more than that. Hutch might as well still be in Africa. The gulf between them was so deep and so wide, it was doubtful they could ever even manage to be friends. Yet the same incendiary attraction that had drawn them to each other in the beginning still existed.

  The sensation of being wrapped in his strong arms...of feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek...of knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him brought back such crazy joy. Never in her life had she felt as happy or free as she had when she and Hutch were a couple.

  What he said was true. If he had come home six months ago, she would never have embarked on this path of insanity. She’d been angry at her dead grandfather and determined to prove she was worthy of carrying on the family name. It had never been about the money, but more about legitimacy, a sense of belonging.

  Now it was too late for second thoughts. The babies were a reality.

  Stumbling to her bathroom, she washed her face and sprawled on the bed. She was hungry again, but it was a weird hunger. Beneath the pangs of an empty stomach rolled a sensation of nausea in the offing.

  Finally, at midnight, she dragged herself out of bed and went to the kitchen in search of a snack. Milk seemed like a bad idea. Ditto for cheese or yogurt. Craving something salty, she found half a bag of stale, plain potato chips. She gobbled two handfuls and washed them down with ginger ale.

  Her hunger appeased, she went back to bed only to jump up twenty minutes later and rush for the bathroom. She threw up violently, so hard that her ribs ached. Even rinsing out her mouth made her stomach heave.

  Groaning, she found a damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. The notion that she might have to endure weeks of this misery pointed out once again how foolish she had been. I’m sorry, she said silently to the three lives she carried.

  No matter what sacrifices it demanded, she would make sure this was a healthy pregnancy.

  The following morning was no better. Dry cereal and water came right back up as soon as they went down. Her hands began to cramp, signaling possible dehydration. Doggedly, she sipped from a water bottle and forced herself to put on the same dress pants from the day before but with a different top. She couldn’t simply stay home because she felt bad. She had a business to run...a business that would soon support three tiny infants.

  Driving was doable, but only because she never pushed the speedometer over thirty miles an hour. When she reached her office, the receptionist, Candace, gave her a wide-eyed stare. Simone didn’t engage. She made a beeline for her private suite, closed the door and put her head on the desk. The sharp corner of a business card poked her stomach through her pocket.

  She pulled the rectangle out and laid it on the desk. Hutch. Dr. Hutch. Saint Hutch. It would be a cold day in hell before she called him for anything.

  With nothing more than dogged determination and the inherent stubbornness that got her into trouble more often than not, she made it through an entire workday. The campaign for Luna Fine Furnishings, a subsidiary of Cecelia’s company, To the Moon, was coming along nicely. Phase one had already been rolled out. In two weeks, an intensive social media blitz would back up the initial print ads and billboards.

  The noon lunch hour came and went. Simone didn’t even attempt to eat. At five o’clock, she closed her laptop, packed up her things and took a deep breath before heading out to her car. Once there, she had to spend another chunk of time convincing herself she could make the drive home. She was shaky, light-headed and so very sick.

  She must have dozed when she got home, because suddenly it was seven o’clock. Naomi would bring her food if she called, but then Simone would have to explain what was going on. Even if it was time to share her secret with her friends, she’d rather do it with both women present.

  Carryout pizza sounded revolting. Canvassing the pantry in her kitchen was an exercise in futility. She knew how to cook but seldom spared the time. Most days she had lunch with clients and grabbed a salad for dinner.

  In the end, the only available choice was peanut butter. That was protein—right? Even her crackers were stale. But smeared with peanut butter, they were edible. At first, Simone thought she had landed on a miracle. The peanut butter was comfort food, its smell and taste appealing.

  Sadly, no matter the enjoyment going down, everything she consumed came back up in a matter of minutes.

  The night passed slowly.
She alternated between lying on top of the covers covered in a cold sweat and hunching over the toilet. No matter how slowly she sipped water, it wouldn’t stay down. Nor would anything else.

  Once she almost fell, so dizzy the room spun around her. Finally, at 4:00 a.m., she collapsed into an exhausted slumber.

  When her alarm went off, she muttered an incredulous protest. How did working mothers do this?

  Dragging herself into the shower, she held on to the towel bar as she washed her hair. Blow-drying it took everything she had. At last she was dressed and ready to go. By now the thought of trying to eat was beyond her. Maybe she’d be able to attempt some lunch.

  The ride to work was a blur. This time she barely noticed the receptionist’s look of consternation. Simone’s mouth was dry and fuzzy. How could she risk taking a drink when she might have to rush for the bathroom? No one in Royal knew she was pregnant. Well, aside from Hutch and Dr. Fetter. It was far too early to let that cat out of the bag.

  As she sat in a stupor at her desk, the buzzer on her phone sounded. “Line two, Ms. Parker. It’s your accountant.”

  Later, Simone couldn’t remember the exact details of that conversation. For all she knew, she might have agreed to transfer her personal and business funds to illegal offshore accounts.

  Thankfully, her two full-time employees—including her exceptional right hand, Tess—were out of town at a conference. The receptionist was fairly new and wouldn’t have the temerity to invade her office uninvited.

  So the hours passed.

  At one, Simone knew she had to eat something. Her headache had reached monumental proportions. Maybe she would send Candace out to get chicken noodle soup. Not only would that guarantee Simone a few minutes of privacy to test her stomach with a sip of water, but the soup might actually be good for her.

  She stood up on trembling legs. Rarely did she ask an employee to carry out a personal errand, but she was literally incapable of walking down the block. Carefully, she opened her door. “Candace, can you come in here?”