Werebear's Nanny_A Paranormal Romance

by T. S. Ryder

  Evie snuggled deeper against her. "Sorry for peeing on the stairs."

  Elaine giggled.

  Lana gave them the last squeeze. "Go upstairs and get ready for your nap. I'll be up shortly."

  Kari gave her a sympathetic look as they trudged upstairs. Her sister embraced her, but she wasn't as comforting as Simon had been. Probably just her imagination, but still.

  "How are you?"

  "Tired. I think I've cleaned up the worst of it. But we need to pack up everything that we don't want to be broken. I . . . researched." She wasn't going to admit that Simon had been there moments before. "And this is something they're just going to have to outgrow. Thank God we have a big backyard. From now on, instead of trying to get them to shift back, we can just send them outside until they burn off their energy."

  Kari looked unconvinced but shrugged. "I hope that works."

  Lana looked at the damage left in the house and nodded. She hoped it would work too.

  ***

  It was the day of her surgery.

  Lana rubbed her arms, trying to dispel the goosebumps. She mentally reviewed what was going to happen. She was going to go to the hospital, get checked in, and then wait in her private room until it was time for the surgery itself. At that point . . . well, it would be in Simon's hands. They had discussed the options extensively and he had agreed that cutting out the tumor was the best course of action.

  Her breasts felt very heavy, like they were rebelling against her choice to have them invaded. She tried to shove aside her nerves. She had given the girls kisses and they had promised to be good for Kari and her husband. She hated leaving them, but the sooner she got her medical problems taken care of, the sooner she could get back to concentrating on them.

  Beside her, Kari gave her a tight smile. "It's going to be okay."

  "I know," Lana said, but her voice was stiff. She was as nervous about seeing Simon again as everything else. They'd had one appointment where everything was set up. That was it. He had been stiff and formal, and she didn't know how he'd react now. It didn't matter what their past was. She needed her doctor to be comforting.

  The hospital was huge and intimidating. Lana's stomach churned so violently that she was afraid she might throw up. Not that there was much in her besides stomach acid. She checked in quickly and was taken to the private room she had reserved. There, she set out the few personal belongings she had brought and changed into the hospital gown provided.

  Kari sat and talked with her for a little longer before Simon came in. He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. Her nerves increased.

  "Miss Flores. Punctual as usual. And you must be Karen."

  "Kari." She gave him an eyeful, a frown crossing her brow.

  Lana winced. With everything that had happened, she had forgotten to tell her sister that her doctor was the guy she'd gone to a hotel with on the night of the benefit ball. They shook hands and Simon explained the procedure for Kari's benefit. After they removed the tumor, he would be injecting shifter tissue into her chest muscles and breast tissue. That would hopefully make a blockade against tumors growing back in the same place.

  "Can I speak with the doctor privately?" she blurted, interrupting Simon mid-sentence.

  Both he and Kari looked surprised, but Kari nodded and slipped out of the room. Lana pulled in a deep breath, meeting his eyes. Simon looked calm and collected, but there was a nervous air to the way he held himself.

  "I feel like I should apologize," she said awkwardly. "I shouldn’t have called you that night, or asked you to stay when . . . " She cleared her throat. "What I mean is, you're right. There need to be boundaries here, and I haven't behaved like a patient should."

  His shoulders relaxed. Simon let out a deep sigh. "I haven't been acting strictly as a doctor, either. If you need to apologize, so do I. From now on, we'll both make sure to keep our distance."

  Lana nodded. "Yeah."

  "Good." He smiled, and Lana's insides flip-flopped. So much for boundaries. She sucked in a deep breath and shoved those thoughts aside. Boundaries meant not acting on such emotions. "Now, do you have any more questions about the surgery?"

  She shook her head.

  "Good. I'll just get my nurse in here to make sure everything is ready. Have you had anything to drink or eat?"

  "No."

  Simon nodded. "Then there are just a few more things that we need to make sure are ready and then we'll get that nasty tumor all taken care of."

  He patted her on the shoulder, but it was a distant touch. She knew that it didn't mean anything. She tried to tell herself that it didn't mean anything either way, but she couldn't help but feel just a little disappointed. Simon left the room and Kari came back in. She gave her sister a skewering glance as she sat down.

  "So . . . are you sleeping with him?"

  Lana's face turned bright red. "No. Only once – before I was his patient. Nothing has happened since."

  Kari's face clearly showed she didn't believe it. "Uh-huh. That's why you look so guilty. And wasn't he at that shifter hall place when I picked you up the other day?"

  "He's a shifter," Lana muttered. "What's the big deal? Honestly. So I went with him to a hotel after the party. We met once again and he turned out to be my doctor."

  "And you didn't tell me."

  Lana mustered up her best dirty look. "Considering everything that's going on, I didn't think it was important. I was embarrassed, okay? You know that I've never done anything like that before. I didn't want you to make a big deal out of it. It's been very professional between us otherwise," she added.

  Kari silently plumped the pillow behind her head. "Okay. If you say that's the way it is."

  "It is," Lana said firmly. Her heart sunk as she realized that was the way it had to be. "He's my doctor and nothing more."

  Chapter Eight – Simon

  Why was he so nervous?

  Simon rested his elbows on his desk, his eyes closed and his breathing steady. Lana's trusting expression kept flitting before his eyelids, and it made his stomach churn. The risks of the surgery were low. Everything was ready and this was the best chance for Lana's future. So why wouldn't the butterflies in his stomach leave? He hated that tremors of doubt kept shooting down his spine. Maybe it would be best if somebody else performed the surgery. He could still oversee the procedure. It would be fine to do it that way.

  Unbidden, the scent of his late wife curled into his nostrils. At least, her final scent. That unpleasant, sickly odor. The sight of her lying in bed, shaved bald, tubes and machines hooked up into her, came to his mind. She had suffered; that was clear. The night she left him, she held his hand and told him he had to let her go. He knew what she meant, even if he had tried to deny it to himself.

  "Find another girl," she had whispered. "Someone kind and sweet, who will bring out the best in you."

  A lump rose in his throat. Katie had been human, wholly and completely, and they had discovered her cancer too late. No treatments would work. She slipped away from him a little at a time, and then she was gone. He had decided right then to do everything he could to ensure that cancer would be eliminated in his lifetime.

  Lana was nothing like Katie. Katie was a brunette, tall and robust. Lana was a petite blonde. Katie always spoke her mind, Lana was meek and submissive. So why did he keep thinking of Katie whenever he was around Lana?

  He opened his eyes and raised his hands. They were completely steady. Not a tremor in them. No phantom pains. Maybe he was nervous, but that didn't show. There was no reason for someone else to do this surgery. After all, he was her doctor.

  Clint poked his head through the door. "Miss Flores's room is almost ready. Time for you to start scrubbing in."

  "Right." Simon stood. "Make sure that Miss Flores is ready to go."

  Clint nodded, then stepped in and closed the door. "Simon, I need to apologize."

  There were several things that Simon thought that he might be referring to, but he nodded silently. He
had been acting like an asshole towards his friend, too.

  "I'm sorry that I jumped to conclusions about your relationship with Miss Flores. It was irresponsible of me, and . . . well, I judged the worst of you. So I'm sorry."

  Simon nodded. "I didn't know she was scheduled to come in for an appointment when I slept with her. I didn't take her on because I slept with her. She has two young children. I was already looking for stage one patients anyway. I didn't have personal reasons for accepting her as a patient."

  Clint gave him a tight-lipped smile. "I know that now. You would never operate on someone you're involved with. I was just concerned because you were showing a great deal of interest in her . . . a great deal of care. You don't usually get emotionally attached to your lovers."

  "Please." Simon snorted. "I don't even remember their names. I care far more about my patients than I do about my lovers."

  "You don't usually get involved in their personal lives, either."

  "Well, I don't care that much." For the first time in a long time, the statement disgusted him. A frown fell over his face and he swallowed hard. "Clint . . . I think that you and I need to go out for drinks sometime. We need to have a serious talk – not about work. And no leaving you with the bill while I go chase skirts. I promise."

  "Wow," Clint said, an impish grin creating dimples in the corners of his mouth. "That's the first adult thing I've heard you say in, oh . . . twenty years."

  "Are you trying to get fired?"

  Clint laughed. Simon grinned. It was good to have playful banter back with his best friend. Too often they were stiff and formal, talking about work or arguing about Simon's lifestyle. Having his friend back was a huge burden off his shoulders. And maybe there was something to what Clint had been telling him all this time. Maybe he needed to stop drowning his grief in sex with women he'd never see again or weren't available for a serious relationship. He could actually take responsibility for his life.

  "Maybe you can come over for dinner tomorrow," Clint offered. "Belle and the kids would be thrilled to see you."

  "Not afraid I'll seduce Belle?"

  Clint rolled his eyes. "Jealousy isn't a color I wear."

  "Well, we'll see. If not tomorrow, sometime this week." Simon turned back to his desk. "There are just a couple more things I have to do, then I'll come up and scrub in."

  Clint nodded and left, and Simon turned to his computer. A notification for a new email popped up in the corner. Opening it, he saw that it was the files he had requested for Lana. The files about who the anonymous donor who had fathered her children was. He checked the clock. There was time to take a quick look at it.

  He opened the document of paper files scanned into PDF format. It looked pretty standard at first until he got to the signature. Once his eyes landed on it, he froze. It was his signature. Blinking, he zoomed in. Yeah, that was definitely his signature. He looked over the information again. It was him. It was all him.

  He'd donated to the sperm bank while he was in university to pay off bills. He'd continued doing it until all his student debts were paid off – five years ago. His palms began to sweat and his hands trembled.

  He always knew that there was the possibility that he had children out there. But to know for certain that he did have two children – twin three-year-old girls – and knowing their mother . . . It made his head spin. His stomach clenched, and he unplugged the computer. His heart pounded as he ignored all the greetings he received as he fled the hospital. Driving his car helped him to distract his mind, but after he nearly drove through a red light, he realized that this wasn't the best state of mind to be driving in.

  His phone started to ring. Simon took a deep breath, found a place to park, and answered. It was Clint, sounding equal parts annoyed and worried.

  "Simon, where are you? Miss Flores is being prepared for surgery. Someone saw you running out of the hospital. What is it?"

  How could he tell Clint about this after the talk they had just had? His hands went cold. He had children with a woman he had slept with. He was always so careful not to get his lovers pregnant, but Lana had had his children.

  Before we met, he tried to tell himself, but it didn’t help. He'd have to tell Clint something, though . . .

  "Cancel the surgery," he said, voice hoarse. "Something unexpected has come up."

  "Are you okay?"

  Simon almost laughed at the question, but it would only make more questions pop up. He inhaled deeply, trying to calm himself, and forced his voice to be steady. "Yeah. I'm okay." He was going to have to tell Clint sometime, but not now. "We'll talk later. Over drinks."

  Pure vodka. It was the only thing that could actually make a shifter drunk.

  After he hung up, he leaned his head against the steering wheel, wondering what to do. Did Lana want to know who her anonymous donor was? Or did she just want to know medical facts? Now that he knew that they shared children together, did he dare still be her doctor? Or should he step back and let somebody else take over? They'd already gone so far for her to start over . . . Maybe he could get someone else to do the surgery and take over her care . . . Or was he going to be too emotionally involved now?

  Katie had wanted children.

  Simon had, too, but he thought it was too early. They needed to be more financially stable. He needed to get through med school. It wasn't the right time. They had just been married. If he had known he'd lose her to cancer in two years . . . Maybe he would have changed his mind. Maybe he would have agreed to have children because Katie wanted them so badly. Or maybe he wouldn't have. Pregnancy hormones would have made the cancer worse.

  Now he had children. Two of them – daughters of a beautiful young woman almost half his age. He hadn't thought about the age gap before, since it was just a one-time thing, and then she was his patient. But she was so young. What had he been thinking?

  And yet, there was something. The idea of being a part of his children's lives; getting closer to their mother. His heart warmed, and a tightness filled him as he thought of sleeping with Lana in his arms every night. No more running around from woman to woman, holding them at arm's length.

  Would she even want that?

  A heavy sigh echoed from his throat as he started the car again. This had to be dealt with, but it wasn't just his decision to make. He headed back to the hospital, stomach knotting. When he arrived again, he went straight to Lana's room.

  Chapter Nine – Lana

  The surgery was canceled. She was already heading up to the operating room and Kari had gone home when Lana got the news. When she was being wheeled out of the elevator (because, for some reason, they didn't want her walking, even though she had no reason to be weak – yet), Clint came out of nowhere and told her that the surgery had been canceled. She was sent back to her room and waited for answers that weren't forthcoming.

  Had something happened? Was there an emergency, something that required the room, equipment, and staff that would have been dedicated to her procedure? Where was Simon to explain why she couldn't have her surgery now? Had he been in an accident? She had heard nothing about the surgery being rescheduled; all of a sudden, just canceled.

  Had something happened to him?

  Lana fought to keep herself calm. There had to be a logical explanation. Someone would tell her what was happening soon. She paced in the room, trying every five minutes to call Kari to tell her what happened. She didn’t answer.

  "I'm fine," she said in her voicemail after what felt like the hundredth try. "It's just the surgery – it’s on hold. I'm sure everything is okay, though. Just wanted to let you know."

  She hung up. It wasn't surprising, Kari’s lack of response. Kari didn't usually carry her cell phone with her everywhere, and she had probably taken the kids to the park or something. Knowing that didn't help Lana feel any better, though. Not when she was so alone with this great big question mark hanging over her. She wrung her hands, fighting the alternating urges to cry or run out to the nurses and dema
nd to know what was going on.

  Almost half an hour later, there was a knock on the door. Lana answered it to see Simon on the other side. Her questions died in her throat when she saw how grim-faced he was. She shrunk back, certain he had horrible news for her.

  Maybe the cancer was more advanced than they thought. Maybe surgery wouldn't do any good.

  "Can I come in?" he asked softly.

  Words choked her, so Lana just nodded mutely. She twisted her hands as he stepped in and closed the door behind himself.

  "Lana, I―"

  Her heart hammered and a bitter taste filled her mouth. "What's wrong?"

  Simon sighed and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. He looked torn, an expression she wasn't used to seeing on him. Usually, he was so decisive and calm. He rarely showed any indication that his unflappable attitude could be ruffled. And yet, it was clear something was agitating him. From his hair standing on end to the intermittent tremors running through his hands, everything about him screamed that something had shaken him.

  "Tell me what's going on," she demanded, her voice pitching in fear. "What happened?"

  "I found out who your girls' father is."

  It took a moment for Lana to fully absorb what he was saying. There was no horrible accident. No unexpected results in her latest tests. Her fear gave way to unexpected anger. Her hands tightened into small fists at her sides and she shook her head.

  "I don't want to know that. It's completely irrelevant."

  "Lana—"

  "Why did you cancel my surgery over that?"

  He flinched.

  "It's not important who their father is. All I wanted was a medical history so I would know what to look out for in my girls. I don't want to know who he is." She put her fists on her hips and her mouth drew into a thin white line. "This is certainly not worth canceling my surgery over."

  "I understand that you're upset—"

  "Upset? I was worried sick! I thought something terrible had happened! I thought the cancer was worse or that you had been hurt. I've been here worrying myself to death over – what? Information that I don't even want to know?"