Triplets for the Texan

by Janice Maynard

  “It’s about time somebody did,” he grumbled.

  “I can’t stay home for weeks and months,” Simone wailed.

  “Actually, you can.” Janine’s bark was worse than her bite, but the other doctor meant business. “Think about it, Simone. You’re more fortunate than most. You own your own business. You have capable employees. Not only that, but you can keep tabs on things via your laptop. Now all we need is someone to play watchdog.”

  Hutch folded his arms across his chest. “That would be me,” he said bluntly. At this point, he didn’t care what Janine thought. Simone was still too damn pale. Her inky hair emphasized her pallor.

  “No way,” Simone said. She still had a bit of spunk left. “You have an important job.”

  “So I’ll take some time off.”

  “You just got back from Africa,” she cried. “You don’t have any time off.”

  “Then I’ll quit my job.” His priorities were crystal clear. A sense of calm fatalism swept through him. He and Simone were bound by invisible threads. Maybe she didn’t want him here, and maybe he shouldn’t be here. But there it was. Some things defied explanation.

  Janine watched both of them with speculation in her gaze. “Do you still want me to be her doctor?”

  Hutch grimaced. “Of course.” Then he looked at Simone. “Right?”

  She glared at him. “Why ask now? It looks like you’re prepared to take charge of my whole life.”

  Her sarcasm didn’t faze him. “Damned straight.”

  Janine put her bag back together and checked Simone’s pulse one more time. She smoothed a hand over Simone’s flushed forehead. “Listen to the man. He may be arrogant, but he knows what he’s doing. I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re not living here on your own.”

  Simone’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. “He can’t move in here.”

  “Oh, yes, I can,” Hutch said.

  Janine grinned and stayed quiet.

  The patient simmered. “What about gossip?” she said. Her gorgeous blue eyes were damp with tears.

  Her vulnerability caught something in his chest and gave it a sharp squeeze. “I don’t give a damn about gossip,” he said. “What we do is our own business. My job is to take care of mothers and babies. For the foreseeable future, you’re at the top of my list.”

  Janine nodded. “Sounds good to me. You have my number, Hutch. If you need me outside office hours, don’t hesitate to call.”

  He kissed her cheek, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Thanks,” he said gruffly.

  Janine motioned toward the hall. Hutch followed her, closing the door most of the way so they wouldn’t be overheard. “Honestly, how is she doing?” he asked.

  “I’m concerned that Simone is still losing weight, by her own admission. Even in cases of hyperemesis, we need to see her belly growing. She’s as tiny as the first day I examined her. Force-feed her if you have to...little bits around the clock. But if those babies are going to have a chance, we need to strengthen their mother.”

  Hutch nodded. “When is her next ultrasound scheduled?”

  “Not for another month. But under the circumstances, I think I’ll bump it up. I want to make sure things are progressing.”

  “And if they’re not?”

  Janine shrugged. “You know the statistics. Don’t alarm her more than necessary. But make her eat.”

  “You can count on it.”

  “I’ll let myself out,” Janine said. “Unless you want me to stay while you run home to pack a bag.”

  “It can wait until tomorrow. I’m sure one of her friends will come over if I call.”

  “I’m guessing she’s been putting on a brave front.”

  He grimaced. “That would be Simone. Never let them see you sweat.”

  “Or in this case, barf.”

  Hutch chuckled. “Thank you for coming.”

  She cocked her head and stared at him. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  Janine had known him a long time. And she knew the history. “Not at all,” he said. “But I don’t really have a choice.”

  Nine

  Simone overheard the last thing Hutch said to Dr. Fetter, and it cut her to the bone. I don’t really have a choice. He was stuck with Simone because of some kind of moral obligation. Saint Hutch.

  She bit her lip to keep from crying when he came back into the room. He still wore his white coat with Dr. Troy Hutchinson neatly embroidered on the chest. “Why are you doing this?” she asked wearily. “We can get Barb.”

  “Barb is overbooked as it is. Besides, I know you, Simone. You wouldn’t be comfortable with a stranger in your house.”

  “You’re practically a stranger,” she shot back. “You’ve been gone for almost six years. Neither of us is the same person we used to be.”

  He didn’t let her bait him. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Surely we’ve both grown up by now. I hope I have.”

  When Simone closed her eyes and didn’t answer, he knew she was trying to shut him out. It didn’t matter. Whatever the current relationship between them, he was going to protect her and her babies, God willing.

  Shrugging out of his lab coat, he unbuttoned his blue dress shirt and rolled up the sleeves. The house was hot. Simone could use some fresh air. But the heat and humidity outside would only make her feel worse. He found the thermostat and made the AC click on. Soon, cool air began to blow out of the vents.

  When he returned to the bedroom, Simone still had her eyes closed. He didn’t know if she was resting or pouting. Grinning inwardly, he sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her arm. “What if I fix scrambled eggs and bacon? That used to be your favorite.” On the weekends in the old days, they would often spend most of their time in bed. When they were sated and content, they ended up in the kitchen eating breakfast for dinner.

  Simone opened one eye. “With cinnamon toast?”

  “Whatever you want, brave girl. All you have to do is ask.”

  Finally, he coaxed a smile from her. “That would be lovely,” she whispered.

  “And you’ll stay in bed in the meantime?”

  She nodded. “I will.”

  Fortunately, he found the kitchen stocked with basics. Soon, he had bacon sizzling as he worked on the toast. The eggs turned out fluffy and perfect. He hoped having the comfort food on hand would coax Simone into eating something, at least.

  When he carried the tray to the bedroom, he realized that she had dozed off again. He wondered if she’d had trouble sleeping at night, or if it was her weakness making her drowsy. He set the tray on the bedside table and touched her arm. “Wake up, sleepyhead. Dinner is served.” He guessed she had missed lunch entirely.

  Simone struggled to sit up in bed. “That was fast.”

  Once she was settled, he sat down beside her. “I’m going to feed you,” he said.

  “I’m not a baby.”

  “No, but you’re not a hundred percent. We’ll take this slow. If we need to stop, we will.”

  She was visibly hesitant, but she eyed the plate longingly. “I want to gobble it up,” she said glumly. “But that would be a disaster.”

  “I’m sure your stomach has shrunk. You won’t be able to eat a normal meal yet. We’ll get there gradually over the next few weeks. What do you want first?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Eggs, I think. I need the protein.”

  He offered her a forkful and nodded approvingly when she opened her mouth, chewed and swallowed. “So far, so good?”

  Simone nodded. “You always were a better cook than me.”

  “Doesn’t matter. You have other talents.”

  Her cheeks turned pink. She shot him a look from beneath her lashes, a look that made his blood run hot. “Naughty, naughty, D
r. Hutchinson. Are you trying to raise my blood pressure?”

  “Whatever it takes, honey. Whatever it takes.”

  The gentle flirting reassured him. Simone looked a hell of a lot better now than when he’d first arrived and found her on the floor. He shuddered inwardly at the memory. If he had any say in the matter, she would never get to that point again.

  His patient managed to eat half of the eggs, one piece of bacon and an entire slice of cinnamon toast. It was probably too much, but he didn’t have the heart to refuse her when she was clearly starving.

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “That was wonderful, Hutch. It seems to help when I don’t have to be the one to fix it. Yesterday, I took one look at a raw egg and had to dash to the bathroom.”

  “Understandable. Let me clean up the kitchen, and then I have an idea.”

  The chore didn’t take long, but once again, Simone was asleep when he returned. He decided to let her rest for a little bit. He needed to deal with a few urgent work situations if he was going to stay here semipermanently.

  After half an hour of answering emails and texts, he was done, for the moment. Like Simone, part of his responsibilities could be dealt with remotely. His patient list was very small so far. Most of what he had been doing in these first few weeks was consulting on cases. Since he had access to the electronic records in his department, some things could go forward unchanged.

  When he entered her bedroom this time, she was awake. Her color was better, and her eyes were brighter. “More dinner?” he asked.

  “No. But so far, so good with what I ate.”

  “Excellent. I know you’re exhausted, but what if we take one short stroll around the backyard? The exercise will do you good, and it will help you sleep more deeply. I’ll be right beside you.”

  “Okay.” She climbed out of bed on her own, waving him off when he tried to take her arm. “If this is going to work, you can’t treat me like an invalid. I can go to the bathroom by myself.”

  He didn’t like it, but he had to tread carefully with Simone. Her fierce independence was going to be at odds with his need to cosset her.

  When they made it outdoors, the heat of the day had abated. The air was fresh and sweet. Simone’s backyard was a rainbow of color, flowers blooming everywhere.

  He put an arm around her waist. “Lean on me,” he said. “And tell me if you need to stop.”

  They didn’t speak as they made a lazy circuit of the premises. Simone’s legs were shaky...that was easy to tell. But she powered on. By the time they made it back to the starting point, she was leaning on him heavily, and her breathing was rapid. He scooped her up in his arms and climbed the shallow steps.

  “Good girl,” he said softly. “I’m proud of you. Food and exercise. You’ll make it yet.”

  “My hero,” she smirked.

  His lips twitching in amusement, he managed the knob and bumped the door open with his hip. “Do you want to go ahead and take a shower now? Or do you need to rest first?”

  Simone looked up at him with big eyes. “Are you offering to join me, Doctor?”

  “Do you need medical assistance?”

  “I’m sure I do.”

  The little brat was taunting him, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to make love to her tonight. She knew the power she had over him, and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

  He deposited her on the bed and inspected the bathroom. If he put the tiny vanity stool in the shower, Simone wouldn’t have to stand the whole time. “Okay,” he said. “Let’s do this.”

  She raised up on one elbow. “Don’t you still keep a change of clothes in the car?”

  Actually, he did, but he’d forgotten. Finding Simone semiconscious had thrown him off his game. “Why do you ask?”

  “Well, if you’re going to help me shower, you’ll get soaked. You should go get what you need before we start.”

  “True.”

  She watched him intently.

  “What are you thinking, Simone?” he asked. “I don’t like that look.”

  “You know it makes sense for you to be naked, too.”

  Immediately and urgently, he was hard...painfully so. He schooled his expression not to reveal his physical turmoil. “I can take off my wet clothes when we’re done. Stay put. I’ll be back.”

  Outside, he put his hands on top of the car and banged his head softly against the metal door frame. He and Simone were playing a dangerous game of chicken, and he was losing. Grabbing the gym bag that held a clean pair of jeans, a knit shirt and underwear, he told himself he could be a gentleman.

  Despite her propensity for suggestive repartee, Simone was in a fragile state. Even if she wanted to make love to him, she was in no condition to do so. He would help her with the shower and tuck her into bed. Period.

  Their first argument was over who would undress her. She stood at the bathroom counter, eyes blazing. “I can take off my own clothes, Hutch.”

  “If you get dizzy and fall, you’ll hit something hard and smash your skull. You don’t want that to happen, do you?”

  “What I want is for you to treat me like an adult. Take off your own clothes, big boy.” No man with an ounce of testosterone could resist such an all-out dare. He wasn’t a teenager. He could control himself.

  They stripped down side by side. Hutch tried not to look in the mirror. It was bad enough seeing Simone in the flesh. He didn’t need to be surrounded with multiple images.

  When he saw her completely naked for the first time, he cursed. The one and only time they had made love since he came home from Sudan, the room had been mostly dark. Now, in the bright light from the bathroom fixture, he took note of each feminine detail.

  She crossed her arms over her breasts. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can see every one of your ribs, damn it. I can’t believe how much weight you’ve lost.”

  “It’s a new technique. I call it the triplet diet.”

  Even now, she was a smart-ass. “That’s not funny.” He couldn’t decide if he wanted to spank her or kiss her.

  Ignoring the urge to do either, he stepped past her to turn on the water and adjust the faucet. When he was satisfied the temperature was just right, he put the small stool in the large granite shower stall and took Simone’s arm. “In you go.”

  She sat down with a small sigh. Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against his hip. “Thank you, Hutch,” she whispered. “For everything.”

  Tenderness came, overwhelming him and muting his physical need for her. “You’re very welcome. Close your eyes and let me take care of you.”

  He started with shampoo, lathering Simone’s long, dark tresses and rinsing with the handheld sprayer. Afterward, he grabbed the bottle of shower gel and soaped up a washcloth. Moving it over her shoulders and back, he made himself recite multiplication tables in his head to keep from going insane.

  Her breasts were full and firm. When he soaped them lazily, the rosy nipples perked up. Eventually, he had washed everything he could reach. “Do you think you can stand for a minute?” he asked gruffly.

  She nodded but didn’t move.

  “Do you want to do the rest yourself?”

  Simone looked up at him with drowsy eyes. Her pupils were dilated; only a ring of deep azure remained. Her eyelashes were spiky and wet. “You’re doing fine. Don’t stop now.” She put her hands on his forearms and drew herself upright.

  Now her nose reached the center of his chest. He wanted to lift her and slide her down onto his rigid sex. He wanted to take her up against the wall of the shower and pound into her until the gnawing ache in his gut found release.

  Instead, he did the honorable thing. He knelt and washed her feet and calves and thighs. Then, standing, with Simone embracing him, he rubbed between her legs.

 
Her breath caught audibly. “I want you,” she whispered.

  Hell. He shut his eyes and gritted his teeth. “We can’t, sweet girl. Not today.”

  Their bodies were wet and slick and primed for action. But Simone was weak as a baby kitten. She fussed halfheartedly when he shut off the water and urged her out of the shower. As he dried her with a big fluffy towel, she murmured something he didn’t quite catch. Afterward, he set her on the counter and grabbed another towel for himself.

  Simone’s back was to the mirror, her hair a tangled mess of black silk at her shoulders. “I’ll have to dry your hair,” he said. “It’s too wet for you to get straight into bed.”

  He found a large-tooth comb and a hair dryer in one of the drawers. Simone seemed to be half asleep sitting up. Though he was clumsy at best, he managed to dry her hair until it was tangle-free.

  She leaned into him. “You should do this for a living,” she muttered, yawning.

  “Only for you, kiddo.” He picked her up and carried her to the bed. “Pajamas?”

  Her smile was wicked. “Not tonight.”

  With shaking hands, he covered her all the way to the chin. “Go to sleep, Simone. I have some work to do, but I’ll be in later. I’ll take the other side of the bed.”

  “Will you be here when I wake up?” Her eyes had darkened, and for a moment, the impertinent facade slipped and he saw loneliness.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said firmly.

  He pulled on the clean boxers and pants without the shirt. The house had cooled down some, but not enough. Or maybe he was the one who was overheated.

  Firing up his laptop and dealing with a backlog of email occupied him for an hour. Simone had an exercise bike in the guest room, so he did ten miles there. After that, he prowled, trying to convince himself he could lie in that bed with Simone and not go stark, raving mad.

  During the course of the evening he had managed to get his erection under control for brief periods of time. Still, every moment he allowed his attention to wander, his libido took over, telling him how damn good it would feel to be intimate with Simone again.

  His head was messed up, no doubt about it. First, there was the ghost of Bethany. The guilt he felt about her death might be illogical, but it lingered. Then there was Simone’s unorthodox pregnancy. She was hiding something.