Annie dashed ahead of her, waiting for Jennifer to slide the dead bolt free before they crossed the hall. When Margaret didn’t immediately answer the doorbell, Annie knocked on the door panel. When at last Margaret opened the door, Jennifer understood the delay. Her neighbor’s face was pale, the only color a faint flush over her cheekbones, and her mouth was taut with distress.
“Margaret, my goodness.” She took the older woman’s arm and steadied her, concern heightening when she felt the usually spry body tremble and lean heavily. “Annie, come in and close the door,” she commanded, waiting until the little girl had done so before she guided Margaret to a seat on the sofa. “How long have you…” She was interrupted when the older woman began to cough, a hacking, painful sound in the quiet apartment.
Jennifer laid her palm on Margaret’s forehead. “You feel warm. Have you taken your temperature—do you have a fever?”
“Just a slight one,” Margaret responded, her voice weak and faintly raspy.
“That’s it,” Jennifer said with decision. “You need to see a doctor.”
“No, no,” Margaret protested but with a distinct lack of her usual energy and forcefulness. “I’m sure it’s just a cold and I’ll be fine in a day or two.”
“Maybe.” Jennifer was unconvinced. “I certainly hope you’re right. But in the meantime, let’s have a doctor at the free clinic check you out, just to be sure.” Her gaze met Margaret’s. “I don’t like the sound of that cough, nor the fact that you’re running a temp. If you need an antibiotic, the sooner it’s started, the better.”
Margaret sighed. “Very well.”
Her easy capitulation worried Jennifer even more. Margaret was too compliant and very unlike her usual self. As she helped the older woman dress, even tying her shoes, Jennifer became even more concerned.
“We need to make a quick stop in our apartment so Annie and I can grab a light sweater—and I need my purse,” Jennifer said as she collected Margaret’s apartment keys and purse, locking up behind them.
“Mommy, do I get to wear my pajamas outside?” Annie asked as Jennifer unlocked the door to her own apartment and helped Margaret inside.
“Why don’t you pull on jeans over your jammies,” Jennifer suggested. “Or just change clothes—but hurry, we don’t want to keep the cab waiting.”
“Take the money for the cab out of my wallet,” Margaret told her, eyes closing as she laid her head back against the sofa.
Jennifer would have insisted on paying herself but she knew Margaret would argue and the older woman seemed too weary.
“Of course, Margaret, I’ll do that,” she agreed, catching up a sweater from where it hung on the back of a kitchen chair. It took only a moment to collect her purse from the bedroom and she hurried back into the living room. “Annie,” she called. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, Mommy.” The little girl appeared, dressed in laced-up sneakers, jeans, a T-shirt and pink sweater. She carried her backpack, bulging at the seams.
Jennifer glanced at her watch. “Great, let’s head downstairs. The cab should be here soon.”
Luck was with them, for they’d barely reached the exit to the street when a cab pulled up to the curb, lights bright.
“Thank goodness,” Jennifer murmured. She handed Margaret into the cab, Annie scrambled inside and Jennifer gave the driver the address for the free clinic.
Dusk was falling and streetlights glowed outside the medical offices. Jennifer helped Margaret climb the three shallow steps to the entry as the cab drove away. Annie walked beside them, uncharacteristically quiet. Backpack slung over her shoulder, she grabbed the handle with both hands and with an effort, pushed the heavy door inward, holding it while the two women made their way into the reception area.
The room was nearly empty. Only two other people sat there—a young woman with a crying baby in her arms and an elderly gentleman sucking on an unlit pipe.
Jennifer helped Margaret to a seat on a vinyl-covered sofa against the wall and Annie sat next to her, eyeing the woman and small baby with concerned interest.
“Good evening.” The receptionist smiled when Jennifer walked to the counter. “What can we do for you?”
“My neighbor has a bad cough and a temperature. She needs to see a doctor.” Jennifer looked over her shoulder when Margaret began to cough, the sound grating.
“I think we can get her in quickly,” the receptionist assured her. “The doctor is in with a patient now, and the other folks here are waiting for test results to come back so it should only be a few moments. I’ll need you to fill out a form with her personal stats and insurance information.”
The paperwork took only a few moments and once finished, Jennifer joined Margaret on the sofa, Annie tucked between them.
“It shouldn’t be too long, Margaret,” she began. “The receptionist said the doctor was…”
The door to the inner rooms opened and a young man exited, his hand wrapped in thick white bandages. A tall, dark-haired man in a white lab coat followed him.
“Next time, try to be more careful when you’re slicing vegetables,” the doctor said.
“Thanks, Doc, I will.”
Jennifer stared at the doctor, blinking in disbelief. The voice she knew so well, the face she saw in her dreams and the doctor who worked in the halls of the Armstrong Fertility Institute was here.
What was Chance Demetrios doing in the free clinic? It was the last place she’d expected to see him.
“Look, Mommy, it’s Chance.” Annie hopped off the sofa and dashed across the tile floor.
“Hey, Annie.” Chance grinned at her. “What are you doing here?” The smile disappeared and he looked up, scanning the room. His features cleared when his gaze met Jennifer’s and he walked toward her. “Hello, Jennifer.”
“Hi.” She stood. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I work here,” he said simply. “Why are you here—are you and Annie okay?”
“Oh, we’re fine,” she assured him quickly. “It’s Margaret, our neighbor.”
On the sofa, the older woman stirred, opening her eyes and sitting up straighter.
“I see,” Chance said. “You must be Margaret,” he told her, his voice gentle, his eyes assessing. “Why don’t we get you into an exam room?”
He helped her to stand, his big hand cupping her elbow.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You can come with us, Jennifer. You, too, Annie.”
They followed down a short hallway, slowly as Chance let Margaret set the pace. When she was settled on an exam table, he gestured for Jennifer to take a seat on the single, straight-backed wooden chair in the small room.
Annie perched on her mother’s lap, her eyes bright, round as she watched Chance.
“So, what’s going on, Margaret?” he queried, wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her thin upper arm.
“I have a cold,” she told him. “Well, it started as a cold,” she amended. “But late this afternoon, I noticed I was feeling hot and my thermometer confirmed I had a temperature.”
“I see.” Chance noted the blood pressure stats and removed the cuff from her arm. “There’s a lot of flu going around,” he informed her. “Let’s check your temperature. Hmm,” he said a moment later. “It is a little elevated.”
Margaret nodded, clearly weary. “I thought so.”
Jennifer managed to contain her worry until Chance had finished his examination.
“Does she have the flu?” she asked when he began making notes on a chart.
“I’m afraid so,” he told her. “I’d like to have her spend the night in the hospital. We’ll give her fluids and watch her to be sure the she doesn’t get worse.”
“I don’t want to go to the hospital,” Margaret argued, a hint of her normal asperity in her weary voice.
“I know you don’t,” Jennifer assured her gently. “But a single night being cared for is better than having you go home, get worse, and then perhaps face several days in the hospi
tal.”
“True.” Margaret’s response was grudgingly agreeing.
“You’re doing the wise thing,” Chance stated, patting her thin shoulder. “I’ll make arrangements for transporting you to City General. I’ll be right back.”
“I’d much rather go home. I don’t like hospitals,” Margaret grumbled, lying back on the exam table as the door closed on Chance’s back.
“I know,” Jennifer soothed. “And I don’t blame you but I think Dr. Demetrios is right—you’ve made the wise choice.”
“Perhaps,” she said wearily.
Chance returned shortly, his presence seeming to fill the room. “Your ride is here, Mrs. Sullivan.”
“Goodness, that was fast.” Margaret peered owlishly up at him. “Are you a magician?”
“No, ma’am.” He smile flashed, his teeth white in his suntanned face. “An ambulance was in the neighborhood when my receptionist put in a call for transport. I think we just got lucky here.”
“Good,” Margaret murmured. “It’s about time. I could use some luck.”
“I suspect we’d all like a little more luck,” Chance told her.
Voices sounded in the hall outside and Chance pulled open the exam-room door. “The patient is in here,” he called. “The EMTs are going to need room so let’s step outside, Jennifer, Annie.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow morning, Margaret,” Jennifer promised, bending to brush a quick kiss against the older woman’s pale cheek.
“Me, too, Margaret.” Annie carefully followed her mother’s example with a brief kiss. “We love you, Margaret.”
A smile lifted the corners of Margaret’s mouth. “I love you, too, sweetie.”
Her eyes drifted closed as Annie stepped back. Jennifer took her hand, following Chance into the hallway to make room for the two ambulance attendants and their gurney. The pair quickly and efficiently transferred Margaret to the stretcher, tucking a blanket around her small frame and strapping her securely.
“See you tomorrow, Margaret,” Annie repeated as the two men wheeled her down the hallway to the exit and their waiting ambulance. Her fingers clutched Jennifer’s and when the back door closed, she turned her worried face up to her mother’s. “She’s going to be okay, isn’t she, Mommy?”
“Chance says she will be and he’s a very good doctor, honey,” Jennifer reassured her, smoothing her palm over the silky mop of curls in unconscious comfort.
Annie’s blue gaze switched to Chance, questioning.
He dropped to his heels in front of her. “Your friend is going to be just fine, Annie. The nurses at the hospital will keep watch over her tonight and she’ll get medicine so that she can come home in the morning. Okay?”
“Okay.” Annie’s cupid mouth tilted in a brief smile and Chance’s big hand cupped her small chin for a moment.
Then he stood, his gaze soothing as he met Jennifer’s.
“I’ll pick you up around ten tomorrow morning and you two can come to the hospital with me. I have to do rounds to check on several patients and you can visit with Margaret until I’m finished. Then I’ll give you all a ride home.”
“Thank you,” she said simply. She might have declined, given her determination to be independent, but it would be much better for Margaret if Chance chauffeured them home in his comfortable car.
“I’d take you and Annie home tonight but my shift doesn’t end for several hours. I had my receptionist call a cab—it’s waiting outside,” he told her. His gaze flicked assessingly over Annie’s face. “I know you could take the bus but humor me. It’s late and Annie looks like she’s about to fall asleep on her feet.”
Jennifer knew Annie was tired. The weight of her small body leaned against her side and the hour was way past her usual bedtime.
“All right.”
Relief spread over his features and he smiled at her with such warmth that her knees went weak.
“Thanks,” he murmured as he walked them down the hallway, through the reception area and out to the waiting cab. “I’ll feel better knowing the cab will take you straight home.”
“Good night, Chance.” Annie’s farewell was interrupted by a jaw-cracking yawn as she slid onto the worn leather seat.
“Good night, and thank you, Chance,” Jennifer said.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he promised.
For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her, but then he closed the door. He leaned in the open window of the cab’s passenger front seat.
“Take good care of my girls,” he indicated, handing the driver folded bills.
“You bet,” the driver replied, taking the currency.
Chance stepped back and the cab pulled away from the curb.
His girls? Jennifer wasn’t sure how she felt about the possessive note in Chance’s voice. But affection for the big man and his obvious concern for her, Annie and Margaret curled warmly through her body. It had been a long time since anyone made her feel so cared for and she liked it, maybe too much, she thought soberly.
Was she coming to depend too much on Chance’s place in her life? And if she was, how painful would it be when he moved on, as surely he would?
She pushed the thoughts aside, determined not to spoil the happiness she felt with Chance today by worrying about the future.
The following morning, as promised, Chance collected Jennifer and Annie and took them to the hospital with him. They dashed through the rain from the car to the double-doored entrance, their jackets quickly growing damp from the spring storm. He left them on Margaret’s floor, promising to collect them in an hour or so.
Fortunately, Margaret was feeling much better and by the time they returned to their apartment building to settle the elderly woman into her own bed, it was well past noon.
“Are you sure Margaret is okay by herself?” Annie asked, her little face worried. “Maybe she should come stay with us till she’s all better.”
“She wants to rest in her own bed, honey,” Jennifer told her. “But we’re just across the hall so we can run in and out often to make sure she’s all right and has everything she needs.”
“Like lunch?” Annie climbed onto a kitchen chair and leaned on her elbows. “I’m hungry. I bet Margaret is, too.”
“She had an early lunch at the hospital, remember?” Jennifer recalled. “But we didn’t so I’m not surprised you’re hungry. What would you like for lunch?”
“How about Chinese?” Chance put in. “I noticed there’s a take-out place on the corner.”
“Yeah! I love Chinese food,” Annie instantly crowed with approval.
Chance leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest, and cocked an eyebrow at Jennifer. “How about you? Do you love Chinese food?”
“Yes, but you’ll soon learn that Annie claims she loves all kinds of ethnic food, whether she’s actually tasted it or not,” Jennifer said dryly.
“Good, that simplifies matters,” he told her. “Do you have a take-out menu for the restaurant?”
Jennifer pointed past his shoulder. “There’s one on the fridge.”
A half hour later, they sat around the table, a dozen boxes of food opened and plates in front of them.
“I like this stuff,” Annie proclaimed. “What is it?”
Chance leaned over to inspect the bite of food on her fork. “That’s almond chicken,” he informed her.
“It’s yummy.”
He grinned at Jennifer. “She likes it.”
“I guess we can add it to the short list of ethnic food she’s actually tried,” Jennifer decided.
“I want to use chopsticks, too,” Annie said.
“A fork is lots easier to eat with,” her mother insisted.
“Chance uses chopsticks.”
“True.” He glanced at Jennifer for permission, waiting until she nodded before he tore the wrapping off a pair of plastic chopsticks from the restaurant and handed them to Annie. She held them awkwardly, stabbing a piece of chicken but dropping it before it r
eached her mouth. “Not that way,” Chance instructed. “Here, I’ll show you.”
He stood, rounding the table to lean over her, moving her little fingers to properly grip the two sticks, then helping her pick up a bite.
Jennifer clapped when the small piece of chicken disappeared into Annie’s mouth and her eyes lit with success.
“Look, Mommy,” she said, her mouth full of chicken. “I can use chopsticks.”
“Yes, you certainly can.” Jennifer exchanged a mutually amused look with Chance.
Outside, the rain came down, pattering against the windowpanes and watering the spring flowers and budding trees. Inside, the three of them finished lunch, neatened the kitchen and then settled around the coffee table for a game of Clue. Jennifer switched on the CD player and the raspy voice of Louis Armstrong sang the lyrics of a 1940s blues tune. She lowered the volume until the music was a pleasant background, adding to the apartment’s cozy, comfortable air.
Chance rolled the dice and moved his playing piece on the board.
“Oh, no,” Annie groaned dramatically. “You’re in the library and with Miss Scarlet!”
Chance laughed. “I haven’t played this game since I was a kid but I seem to remember that when a fellow player doesn’t want me landing in a room, it probably means she knows something about who killed who.”
Annie gave him an impish look. “Maybe, maybe not.” She tossed her head, her ponytail of red-gold hair gleaming in the lamplight. “I’ll never tell.”
Jennifer leaned sideways to whisper loudly. “I should warn you—Annie almost always wins this game.”
“Aha. Now you’ve challenged me,” he told them. “This is serious. I have to win to prove guys can play this game well, too.” He gave the two females a fierce frown and they laughed, identical blue eyes sparkling with merriment.
Damn, he realized with sudden insight. I’m having fun, playing a board game with a kid and her mom. Nothing could be further from the polished, sexually willing debutantes and black-tie events that had often been the focus of his past social life. Was it possible his conviction that he wasn’t wired for family life was only because he’d never met the right woman? The thought was startling—and he shoved it to the back of his mind, to be considered later. Maybe much later. At the moment, he was enjoying himself too much to ponder weightier subjects.
Cinderella and the Playboy / The Texan's Happily-Ever-After Page 11