There were any number of men in Royal who would have been happy to provide sperm the old-fashioned way. What reason had been compelling enough to send Simone down this path?
He prayed unashamedly for her three babies. If she lost any or all of them, it would destroy him. Even more harrowing was the prospect of losing Simone. Women still died in childbirth occasionally. It was rare, but it happened. She wasn’t his to lose, but he was the one in her court for the moment.
Finally, at eleven, he decided he was tired enough to go to sleep, no matter the provocation. He moved through the house checking locks and turning off the lights. By now, he knew his way around the master bedroom. He brushed his teeth with the toothbrush from last time. Leaning his hands on the counter, he gave himself a pep talk.
“Don’t be stupid, Hutch. She doesn’t need any added stress, and you don’t need the drama. She broke up with you the last time. Now she’s in an even worse place to have a relationship with you. Get over it. Move on.”
It was a good speech. Maybe even a great one. Despite that, when he stood beside the bed and studied the small lump under the covers, he rubbed his chest, trying to ease the ache there.
He’d always assumed he’d have a family one day, though not like this. Even if Simone had any residual feelings for him, he would have to wonder if she needed a father for her babies more than she needed a lover. It was a sobering thought.
Thankfully, he did sleep. And on his own side of the bed.
Once, toward dawn, he roused when Simone got up to go to the bathroom. He could see the outline of her nude body. “You okay?” he asked groggily.
“Yes.”
She wasn’t gone long. When she climbed back in bed, he could hear her breathing. “Hutch?” she said.
“Hmm?”
“Will you hold me?”
He inhaled sharply. “I don’t think I can do that.”
“Why not?”
Was she deliberately being obtuse, or did the woman truly not understand how badly he wanted her? “You’re naked. I’m naked. Things will happen.”
She chuckled. “Is that so terrible?”
Desperately, his better nature fought the good fight. “You’re not one hundred percent.”
“Then make love to what’s left of me, please. And this time don’t let go.”
* * *
Simone knew she was being unfair. What was the penalty for tempting a saint? Eternal damnation? She had already tasted the depths of hell. When Hutch left for Sudan, she’d come close to falling apart completely. Only sheer force of will had enabled her to get out of bed and get dressed every day.
Eventually, the pain dulled. Work and friends and hobbies filled the hours. After a year, she dated again. Casually. Always, she wondered what would happen when Hutch came home. And then he didn’t come home.
After the first three years, she had faced the bitter truth. By sending him off to fulfill his destiny, she had destroyed her chance at happiness with him. Even now, she was under no illusions. They had sexual attraction going for them, no question. But she was pregnant with another man’s babies.
Lots of couples adopted children. This was different. Even if he could forgive her for the huge mistake she had made, surely he would want to father his own son or daughter.
What if she got pregnant again and it was as bad as this time? The thought of facing another nine months of misery was too wretched to contemplate. And four children? Simone didn’t even know how to mother one or two or three, much less four.
The only thing left was hot sex with no strings attached. Even that would come to an end when she got embarrassingly huge.
With tears stinging her eyes, she met him in the middle of the mattress. “I’m not a very nice person,” she whispered. “I should leave you alone.”
He ran a hand down her flank, raising gooseflesh everywhere he touched. “I’m a big boy,” he said. “I can handle it.”
Ten
She reached for him in the dark, finding his erection and wrapping her hand around it. Hutch shuddered. She stroked him firmly, remembering instinctively what he liked. In the space of a hushed breath, the years melted away and the two of them were the same young, wildly infatuated couple they had once been.
Her body wasn’t cooperating. She felt weak and barely able to move. Still, she wanted Hutch desperately. With the empathy that marked everything he did, he held her close and winnowed his fingers though her hair. “You’re not up to this, Simone. Admit it.”
His body was warm and hard and masculine against hers. The light fuzz of hair on his broad chest tickled her breasts and reminded her that he was a man in his prime. The stark contrast of tough male to soft female sent a shiver of delight down her spine. Having him wrap his muscular arms around her in a firm hug made her feel secure and cherished. He was right. She didn’t have the energy for sex. Yet everything she knew told her to bind Hutch any way she could. She didn’t want to lose him again. And she didn’t want only his tender care. She wanted his love.
Dear God. The truth left her breathless. She still loved Troy Hutchinson. Illogically. Inescapably. Which meant she was destined for even greater heartbreak than before. The yawning hole in her chest was terrifying. She couldn’t survive a second time. Especially not with babies in the mix.
As she lay there trembling, her change in mood must have alerted Hutch that something was wrong. He eased her onto her back and reclined on one elbow. Placing his hand, palm flat, on her stomach, he sighed. “Talk to me, honey. I’m not a mind reader.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten pregnant.” She wanted to tell him the truth. She wanted to tell him why. But she was afraid he would look at her in disgust and disappointment.
“Your timing could have been better, that’s true. But there’s nothing wrong with wanting to become a mother.”
Except that Simone had taken something so sacred and wonderful and used it for her own ends. “Are you still in love with Bethany?” She blurted it out, her pain and confusion erasing all sense of boundaries.
Hutch went still. He removed his hand. “Bethany has nothing to do with you and me,” he said, the words flat.
“You didn’t answer my question, Hutch.” Why was she torturing herself? “Do you still love her?”
She heard him curse beneath his breath. His reaction was so out of character it shocked her.
“I will always love Bethany,” he said. “She was selfless and pure in her devotion to the hurt and needy. She gave her life doing the things she considered essential for the good of humanity. She made me a better doctor...a better man. So, yes, Simone. I love Bethany. But she’s gone, and I’m still here. If that’s a problem, tell me now.”
Her throat was so tight she could barely breathe, much less speak. Why had she wanted so badly to know the truth? Now she would never be able to forget what he’d said.
She touched his arm. “I’m sorry. You’re right. She has nothing to do with us.” Moving carefully, she climbed on top of him and buried her face in the curve of his neck. He was still hard and ready.
Hutch didn’t need any further invitation. He lifted her hips and joined their bodies with a firm thrust. She cried out, the small sound muffled against his shoulder. He made love to her with such tenderness she wanted to weep. He was a doctor, yes. So he had taken an oath to do no harm. But this was more than that. He was coaxing her into trusting him, one heartbeat at a time.
What he couldn’t know was that she would trust him with her life...and the lives of her babies. That wasn’t the issue at all. The problem was the way she had let herself get twisted in knots over her grandfather’s will and her feelings of not being able to measure up to her family’s expectations.
It was too late now.
Hutch was hot, his taut body damp. He held her hips in a grip that might
bruise, though she didn’t think he realized it. “Are you okay?” He ground out the words between clenched teeth.
She cupped his cheek with her hand, feeling the stubble on his face and chin. “I’m glad you came home, Hutch. I missed you.” It wasn’t an answer to his question. She wasn’t okay...not at all. How could she tell him that she had been missing a part of herself for five long years?
At twenty-two, twenty-three, she hadn’t understood how rare it was to find someone like Hutch. It shamed her to realize that if the situation arose now, she would beg him not to leave. In her youthful naïveté, she had assumed one of two things—either Hutch would come home after two and a half years and they would pick up where they left off, or she would eventually find someone else to love.
Neither scenario had been the case.
He rolled suddenly, taking her with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and twined her arms around his neck. Hutch was wild now, his thrusts uncontrolled, his passion barely in check.
“Simone... Ah, hell...” He came with a groan that sounded more like pain than pleasure.
She wasn’t even close. As much as she craved his touch, she was unable to summon the energy to climax. It was enough to know he wanted her.
In the aftermath, he moved them onto their sides and held her gently, stroking her hair and feathering kisses over her eyelids and cheekbones.
“I remembered this,” he said quietly. “In Sudan. When things got bad. Sometimes we lost babies who should have lived. Mothers, too. It ate me up inside. When I couldn’t sleep at night, I would imagine you in bed with me. It helped. It anchored me.”
“But you didn’t come home the first time.” She heard the note of accusation in her own voice. “That sounded angry,” she added quickly. “And I wasn’t. I’m not.” What she had been was devastated.
He sighed, his breath stirring the hair at her temple. “I was going to,” he said. “I had every intention of coming back to Royal when my first tour was over. But...”
“But what?”
“You and I had ended things on a difficult note. I wasn’t sure there was any reason to come home. And the need in West Darfur was overwhelming. You were so damn young when we broke up. It occurred to me that I was probably someone to experiment with...someone unsuitable you could toss in your parents’ faces to prove you were a grown woman.”
Simone flinched, incredibly hurt. “It wasn’t that. It was never that, Hutch. I adored you.”
“But not enough to beg me to stay.”
“That’s not fair.”
“I knew you were ambitious. I knew you wanted to be successful. You had life in the palm of your hand. It’s not surprising that my life and yours didn’t mesh.”
“I was trying to do the right thing,” she said bitterly. “For once in my life, I was being unselfish.” And look where it got me...
He sighed. “Why don’t we agree to let the past stay in the past? Neither of us handled the relationship well.”
“And now?”
“What do you mean?” His question held a tinge of wariness.
“Are we handling this well?”
“How the hell should I know? I’m an obstetrician, not a shrink.”
Simone was shocked when he rolled away from her and left the bed. “Where are you going? It’s still dark out.”
“I need to clear my head,” he said gruffly. “Go back to sleep.”
* * *
Hutch didn’t wait to see if she obeyed his command. Her scent was on his skin. The sound of her voice echoed in his head. His heart pounded as adrenaline surged through his veins. He either wanted to run or to fight or to climb back into his lover’s bed and stake a claim.
It was easy to pretend that Simone was the same woman he’d left behind. Easy, for now. When her pregnancy began to show, all bets were off. Every time he looked at her, he would be reminded that she had made a choice to be a single mom. It still made no sense. Simone was the quintessential career woman. Not only that, she was far too young to worry about her biological clock.
He let himself out of the house quietly and prowled the backyard. At this hour, the air was cool and sweet. Janine Fetter was no gossip, but sooner or later, word would filter around town. Simone Parker was pregnant. And Troy Hutchinson was living in her house.
Did he care? That was the million-dollar question. People would make assumptions about Simone’s pregnancy. It was only natural. Undoubtedly, some folks around Royal would believe he had returned from Africa so that he and Simone could pick up where they left off.
If anybody did the math, they would know he wasn’t the father of her triplets. But was anybody going to be following their situation that closely?
For one brief moment, he considered offering Simone a version of what they’d had in the past. Not his heart. That wasn’t up for grabs. Something else instead. She was going to need help. He liked having regular sex with someone he cared about.
There were worse reasons to hook up.
Still, there was no rush. He was here to make sure she took care of herself. In the meantime, he could decide if they were actually compatible. Simone liked to jump in the deep end without pondering the consequences. He was a planner, a cautious man who preferred to calculate the risks.
Maybe it would work. Maybe it wouldn’t. He had time to decide.
* * *
After that first night, their time together fell into a routine of sorts. The mornings were hardest for Simone. He was a decent cook, so he tempted her with light fare, anything he thought she would enjoy and be able to keep down.
Gradually, her color improved and she became stronger—strong enough to want to go back to work.
They argued ten times a day, it seemed. Him pointing out that she had a long way to go in this pregnancy, Simone insisting he was a worrywart. In the end, they compromised.
He’d been sleeping under her roof for seven nights when Simone revealed the real reason she was desperate to get back to work. While Hutch made grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for both of them, Simone sat at the kitchen counter with her laptop and fretted.
“I’m in charge of this upcoming charity event,” she said, waving her hands. “It was my idea. I can’t let the preparations slide anymore or we’ll never be ready.”
He listened with half an ear, wondering if the rough weather that buffeted the windows would turn into a tornado watch. He’d been in Sudan when a killer storm leveled big chunks of Royal a few years ago. People were still antsy whenever the skies turned dark.
Simone tossed a paper wad at him. “Pay attention, Hutch. I’m trying to explain.”
He shrugged with an unrepentant grin. Now that Simone was feeling slightly better, she talked his ear off. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Go ahead. I’m listening. What’s it called again?”
“Nothing yet,” she grumbled. “That’s part of the problem. The invitations need to go out by Monday, and I have everything ready but the name.”
Royal’s hardworking charity organization, Homes and Hearts, was slated to be the beneficiary of Simone’s latest PR idea. When she fell ill recently, she’d been in the midst of planning a grand masquerade ball to raise money to build more houses for the homeless.
Instead of hosting at the Cattleman’s Club, Simone and Cecelia had cooked up the idea of christening the grand ballroom at Deacon Chase’s new five-star resort, The Bellamy. He and Shane Delgado had been inspired by the Biltmore House in Asheville, North Carolina, though their architectural baby here in Royal was hipper and more modern. Sitting amid fifty-plus acres of lush gardens, The Bellamy was lavish and expensive.
Simone had declared it the perfect location.
“How about Masks for Mortar?” he said. “Has a ring to it, don’t you think?”
Simone squealed and jumped off the s
tool, rounding the island to hug him enthusiastically. “That’s perfect, Hutch. Let me insert that line in the file, and I’ll get it off to the printer.”
“Don’t you need somebody else’s approval? I don’t want to be responsible if the idea bombs.” He was only half kidding.
“It’s exactly right,” she insisted.
While she futzed with her email, he shoved a plate under her nose. “Here’s your lunch, Simone.”
She nodded absently. “Put it right there. I’ll try a few bites.”
Leaning over the counter, he closed her laptop. “Eat now. Doctor’s orders.”
He wasn’t going to budge on this one. It pleased him to see her so happy, but she could easily get into trouble again if she didn’t make sure to nibble when her stomach was actually cooperating.
She made a face at him. “Dictator.”
“Shrew.” He grinned. Gradually, they were becoming less cautious with each other. It was a good sign, but he was pretty sure the détente was only temporary.
For one thing, Simone never talked about the babies. She let Hutch check her blood pressure twice a day, and she ate as much as she was able to. Other than that, there was no outward indication that anything was going on beneath the surface.
One afternoon a week or so later, she seemed moodier than usual.
He tugged the end of her ponytail. “What’s bugging you?”
“I’m almost three months along. When will I feel them move?”
Suddenly, he realized she was still fretting about the pregnancy. “Well...” He hesitated, trying to speak the truth without offering false promises. “Every day that passes brings you one day closer to a successful outcome. In a normal pregnancy, you’d likely start to notice the baby moving at five months.”
“But with triplets?”
“Could be sooner. Could be later.”
“And for that sound medical judgment you went to med school...”
Triplets for the Texan Page 10