The Nurse's Pregnancy Miracle

by Ann Mcintosh

  “Then Ms. Lattimore refused to contribute to the bake sale, because she felt slighted, and I had to give her a firm talking-to.” Momma gave a huff of annoyance. “Told her that’s no way for a grown lady and a parishioner to behave. In the end she made a dozen of her pecan pies, after saying she’d never do a thing for the church again if Janie Carruthers was running the charity committee.”

  Nychelle’s lips twitched, then spread into a smile as she settled into the chair across the desk from him. If it were anyone else David would have hesitated to allow them to be privy to his conversation, but for some reason he didn’t mind Nychelle hearing his mother ramble on.

  “You’re a born peacemaker, Momma. Should have been a police officer.”

  “Go on with you.”

  Her laughter trickled through the office, and David smiled to hear it.

  “You’re so silly, Davie.”

  Nychelle covered her mouth with one hand, but not before a little burst of laughter escaped.

  “Someone there with you, Davie?”

  The gleam of laughter in Nychelle’s eyes increased at hearing his nickname again, and David sent her a mock glare as he replied, “One of the nurse practitioners, Nurse Cory, just came in, Momma.”

  “Oh, you’re busy. I should let you go.”

  “Wait, Momma.” He’d almost forgotten to mention one of the reasons he’d called. “Have you and Poppa given any more thought about coming down for a visit? I have the spare room all ready for you.”

  He knew what she was going to say before she said it, just from the few moments of silence before she replied.

  “You know what your poppa is like, Davie. Always working...never wanting to take a break. Besides—Florida?”

  She said it as though it were outer space, rather than just a couple states away. Not that strange, since the farthest his parents had traveled before they’d reluctantly flown to Maryland for his graduation from medical school was to Charleston, about an hour away from their home. The reluctance in her voice was clear, when she said, “I don’t know...”

  “Well, think about it, okay? Now that Jessa is out of school I’m sure she and Little Bub could help Mary-Liz for a little while at the shop.” He well knew his sister could probably manage their dad’s business by herself, but her kids would probably be glad to earn some pocket money over the summer.

  “I’ll ask him, Davie.”

  Skepticism was rife in her voice, and he knew her agreeing to ask his father again was the best he could hope for.

  “Now, I’ll let you get back to work.”

  “Okay, Momma. Love—”

  But, with a click, she was gone before he could finish. Shaking his head, David reached over to disconnect the speaker, cutting off the buzz of the dial tone.

  “Ah. Your mom belongs to the Dr. Monique Girvan school of telephone conversations.” Nychelle was still smiling, but the laughter had faded from her eyes. “As soon as she’s finished talking she hangs up.”

  Leaning back, he asked, “Dr. Monique Girvan?” Why was that name so familiar?

  “My mother.”

  “Ah...” He still wasn’t sure where he’d heard the name before, but gave Nychelle a half smile. “I’d suggest it’s a mom thing, but I think my mom was just a little flustered to think I was supposed to be working. What I do for a living is a bit of a mystery to her. Her experience of doctors is limited to what she’s seen on TV and the old family practitioner in our little town, who’s always rushing around, busier than a one-armed coat hanger.”

  “Busier than...?” Nychelle started to giggle. “Where did you get an expression like that?”

  Her laughter was contagious and, inexplicably light-hearted, he chuckled before replying. “My roommate in college was from Canada, and he used that expression all the time. I like it.”

  He moved an invitation he’d left on his desk from side to side, wanting something to do with his hands. The sudden urge to put them on Nychelle Cory—trace the sweet, smooth lines of her cheeks and neck, rub his thumb across the soft pillow of her lower lip—was shocking, and he quickly squelched it.

  “I can see why.” She was still giggling a little. Then she added, “Davie,” in a credible facsimile of his mother’s accent, and they both dissolved into full-blown laughter.

  Strangely, he didn’t feel the least abashed at her teasing, although he knew himself to be touchy about his poor, Low Country roots. Even stranger was how their shared laughter lightened the darkness still swirling in his soul, pushing it and his lingering grief back just a bit more.

  “South Carolina?” she asked, after she could talk again. “I’ve been trying to figure your accent out, but it really only became pronounced when I heard you talking to your mom.”

  “I’ve moved around a lot in the last twelve years, and lost most of my accent. It seems to come back when I’m talking to my family.”

  “Mine does too. I’ve lived in the States since I was ten, but if you hear me on the phone with my cousin Aliya you’d think I just got off the plane from Jamaica.”

  She reached up to tuck an errant strand of hair back into her bun, causing her blouse to tighten across her breasts, and David forced his gaze away from the alluring sight. What on earth was wrong with him, ogling her every chance he got? Hopefully she hadn’t noticed what he was doing.

  As she straightened in her chair, her gaze fell to the invitation he was still shifting from hand to hand across the surface of his desk. “Is that an invitation to the FMA charity gala?”

  Surprised by the change in the conversation, David glanced down at the card before replying, “Yes. Will you be there?”

  Curiosity swept him as he realized he knew nothing about Nychelle Cory other than the fact she was intelligent, beautiful and a wonderful nurse. Was she married? He didn’t think so. But he’d avoided asking too many questions about his colleagues and the staff, preferring them to volunteer whatever information they wanted him to have.

  “Couldn’t miss it.” Her lips twisted briefly. “My life wouldn’t be worth living if I did.”

  She must have seen the confusion in his eyes, because she waggled an index finger toward the invitation.

  “My mother is chairperson this year. She’d have my guts for garters if I didn’t turn up.”

  “Ah...”

  Now he remembered where he’d heard Dr. Girvan’s name before. Dr. H had advised him not to miss the gala, and had given him a rundown on some of the people he’d meet there. Dr. Girvan—Head of Psychiatry at the prestigious Brevard University Medical School—had definitely come up as a force to be reckoned with both in the medical and the wider communities.

  “I’ve been dreading it a little, to be honest,” he said, giving the card a flick of his finger. “I haven’t been in Florida long enough to get to know many people and, frankly, any event where I have to wear a tuxedo is almost guaranteed to make me break out in hives.”

  Nychelle’s laugh told him she didn’t believe him for a moment. “I bet you’ll fit right in. And there’ll be a number of doctors from the clinic there, including Dr. H, so you’ll know some people.”

  “Including you.”

  She dropped her gaze for a moment and he wondered what she was thinking. Then she looked up again, and he still had no idea what was going on in her head. It was as though she’d intentionally wiped her face clean of all expression.

  “Including me.”

  “Do you have a date?”

  As the impulsive words left his mouth David felt himself go still, waiting for her response.

  “Um...no. I don’t.” She was rubbing her left wrist with her right hand, and then abruptly stopped, both hands going still in her lap.

  Why was that a relief? He didn’t want to know, really—was still wondering in the back of his mind exactly what the heck he was doing. Of all the people to ask t
o accompany him anywhere, Nychelle Cory was the worst possible choice.

  Yet, as though from a distance, he heard himself ask, “Would you go with me?”

  * * *

  Surprise had her blinking at David as he continued, “I’d appreciate not having to walk into the gala by myself.”

  The one question that immediately reverberated in her head was, Why?

  Why was he asking her to go with him when he could have his pick of women? Was it because he’d found out her mother was chairing the prestigious function? Perhaps he had even heard of her father who, as head of a world-renowned cardiac institute, also wielded considerable clout in the medical world? She knew what it felt like to have someone use her in an attempt to advance their medical career, and it was a situation she’d promised herself never to get into again.

  Not wanting him to see how conflicted she was, Nychelle looked back down at the invitation, avoiding his gaze. How easy it was to remember Nick sucking up to her parents. She’d thought it was because he wanted to make a good impression. It was only later she’d realized he was only with her to get close to them—especially her father—hoping to worm his way into a position at the institute. There was no way she could trust David not to try something similar.

  And, even without the fact she didn’t want to be used that way again, going with David to the gala would be stupid. There was something about him that drew her, excited her, and in her heart she knew staying away from him was definitely the best course of action. Being coolly professional over the last few days had been difficult enough, and just today, in the face of his obvious unhappiness, she’d so easily lost that clinical distance. Spending the evening with him seemed like pushing her luck too far.

  No, she couldn’t take the chance on any of it, so she replied in as expressionless a tone as she could manage. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea. It might lead to gossip here at the clinic.”

  David seemed to consider that for a moment, and when the silence had lasted longer than she’d expected, she finally looked up.

  Meeting her gaze, he shook his head and held up one finger. “First, we’re colleagues. Colleagues go to functions together all the time. It’ll be more like carpooling.” Another finger went up to emphasize his next point. “Second, I’d be happy to tell anyone who asks that you’re doing me a good turn since I don’t know that many people here yet.” One last finger. “Third, if anyone comes to me trying to stir up trouble I’ll tear a strip off them.” Dropping his hand, he concluded, “I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

  Damn him, those eyes made her just melt. About to press her palm to an overwarm cheek, she arrested the motion and lowered her hand back to her lap.

  Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Perhaps seeing him currying favor with her parents would put an end to this silly attraction she felt. While her mother would take any deference as her due, her father, for all his status, seemed to thrive on being fawned on. Nychelle couldn’t think of anything worse than watching David Warmington stroke their egos. It would immediately make him persona non grata in her book.

  Tightening her lips, she gave in to the determined look in his eyes and nodded. It seemed wise, though, to qualify what they were doing. Make sure he knew it wasn’t a date.

  “Okay. Since you put it that way, I’ll go with you. I don’t like going to these functions solo either, so really you’re doing me as much of a favor as I’m doing you.”

  “Great.”

  The corners of his lips twitched in one of his abbreviated smiles and Nychelle had to look away. Every time he did that she—ridiculously—just wanted to kiss him. Going with him seemed a worse and worse idea with each passing minute.

  “Let me have your address and I’ll pick you up,” he added.

  Without looking back up at him, she reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a pad. “I have to be there in time for the reception, so pick me up by six at the latest.” She quickly scribbled down her address. “Do you know South Fort Lauderdale at all, or do you need directions?”

  “I’ll use my GPS. I’m sure I’ll find it. But give me your phone number too, just in case.”

  Jotting down her home and cell phone numbers, she realized her heart rate was through the roof, as though from a shot of epinephrine. She tore the sheet off the pad and took a deep breath.

  Then, reaching out to give him the paper, she forced her mind back to work and said, “I’m just following up on Mr. Comstock—letting you know he left here telling everyone what a brilliant doctor you are and promising to do his best...”

  Yet, despite her carrying on a perfectly professional conversation regarding their mutual patient, one thought was paramount in her mind.

  I’m going to have to get a new dress!

  CHAPTER SIX

  SEATED IN THE passenger seat of David’s sedan, waiting for him to come around and open the door for her, Nychelle tried not to fidget with her hair or smooth down her dress.

  Her wildly expensive, extravagant dress.

  The kind of dress she usually never, ever bought but in this case hadn’t been able to resist.

  Nothing at any of the shops she usually patronized—most of which sold designer garments at reduced prices—had seemed appropriate. Finally she’d given in and gone to a boutique Aliya had once taken her to, where price sticker shock had almost caused her to have a heart attack. Right in the middle of the store, displayed in pride of place, she’d found the dress and, despite wanting to cry when she heard the price, she’d known it was perfect. After all, she was going to the gala with a man who just might be the best-looking one there. The last thing she wanted was to feel frumpy in comparison—especially in front of her parents.

  Made of luxurious silk, with an intricate side-pleated, strapless bodice that fit her like a glove, and from which flowed a swirling, clingy skirt, the dress was two shades lighter than David’s eyes. Looking at herself in the mirror, she’d felt beautiful, even sophisticated, and the appreciation in David’s gaze when she’d opened her front door to him had been the icing on the cake. Having a gorgeous man solemnly tell you how beautiful you looked was an ego-booster, although she sternly cautioned herself not to take it to heart.

  Now, as he swung the car door open and held out his hand, she steeled herself for the night ahead.

  “Have I told you how lovely you look?” he asked, keeping hold of her hand although she was already out of the car.

  “This makes three times.” Slanting him a look, she reminded herself they weren’t on a date one more time, and wriggled her fingers to try to make him let them go.

  Instead of releasing her hand, David simply slid it up into the crook of his elbow, holding it there.

  “Only three?” The corner of his mouth quirked, as he started leading her into the hotel. “I’m lagging behind...need to up my game. It should be at least a dozen times by now.”

  She had never thought she’d laugh while about to be subjected to her family in a formal professional setting, but somehow David managed it with his dry delivery.

  “So, what am I in for tonight?”

  They were crossing the lobby toward the banquet hall as he leaned in close to ask the question, his breath warm against her cheek.

  “Will the food be good, or will I need to take you to a burger joint afterward?”

  That made her giggle again, and it wasn’t until they were right at the door that she realized her stomach wasn’t tied in knots the way it usually was before one of these events.

  “Nychelle—glad you could make it on time.” Her mother gave her a perfunctory hug and the obligatory air-kiss near one cheek, before adding, “And you took time to find something suitable to wear.”

  “Yes, Mom.”

  Ugh. That lukewarm reception knocked a lot of the wind out of her sails, leaving Nychelle caught somewhere between annoyance
and disappointment. And, even though she wanted to see David’s demeanor as she introduced him, she was too embarrassed by her mother’s greeting to look at his face.

  “Mom, I don’t think you’ve met Dr. David Warmington? David, this is my mother, Dr. Monique Girvan.”

  The look of quickly disguised shock on her mother’s face when she realized Nychelle had a date should have made Nychelle want to laugh, but it only served to make her feel that much worse.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Warmington.” Back to her usual urbane self, her mom gave David one of her piercing, interrogatory looks. “Dr. Hamatty has mentioned you. So nice of you to come—and to give Nychelle a ride.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, Dr. Girvan. On all fronts.”

  Nychelle thought there was a hint of coolness in his greeting and glanced up. Although he was smiling, the expression didn’t reach his eyes.

  “Your daughter was kind enough to agree to accompany me, and my appreciation for that knows no bounds.”

  Then they were moving forward, and Nychelle was greeting the next person in the receiving line, and whatever her mother said in reply to David was lost in the murmur of voices.

  Once they’d cleared the line Nychelle glanced around, still stung by her mother’s attitude, looking everywhere but at David.

  “They’ve really outdone themselves with the decor this year. Those arrangements of calla lilies and orchids are amazing.” She was babbling, and she knew it, but somehow couldn’t stop. “Did you get a chance to check out the items up for auction? They should have sent you a list with the invitation. There are some gorgeous paintings, and a sculpture I absolutely covet...”

  Warm fingers closed around her wrist, stemming the flow of words spilling from her mouth, and when she glanced up David’s intent expression made her breath hitch. Then he was leaning close, his cheek almost resting against hers, and the scent of expensive cologne and heated male caused a cascade of goose bumps over her arms and back.