Lunchtime Chronicles: Jolly Rancher

by London, S.

  Not so fast, Logan thought, gliding his tongue into her mouth. He had every intention of making this a great morning. Slowly he trailed kisses down her neck, deliberately moistening the skin.

  “Logan,” she hummed. “The time.”

  Flashing a smile, Logan grabbed the delicate shoulder straps, slipping his fingers beneath, he pulled the material lower until Ava’s breasts came into full view. A jolt of energy short-circuited his brain and super-charged his groin. He groaned in anticipation. This kind of pain promised a back-arching pleasure.

  “I know,” he whispered. “I can be creative with five minutes, sweetheart.”

  MEET AVA

  Ava wanted a simple, but elegant wedding.

  Period.

  End of discussion.

  Instead, she’d returned home to a three-ring circus of catered events ala Maribelle Masters. The initial gratitude she felt at her mother and future mother-in-law working together to plan the announcement party, rehearsal dinner, and the wedding reception during her six-month deployment had vanished. Logan’s excitement about their upcoming nuptials was infectious, but her confidence that this made-for-television mini-series would happen without a hiccup, not so much.

  Was she over-reacting? No one else had a complaint...really. Her mother wanted to host the rehearsal dinner, but Maribelle had reserved the Tower Club. Oh, and the sticking point...the venue had been announced in the newspaper before either of them could object.

  Was she being ungrateful? Maybe.

  A world celebration had never been her goal. The Prince Harry and Meghan approach held little appeal.

  She just wanted Logan.

  All the attention the Shell Cove Courier focused on them unsettled her. In their four years together, she and Logan had weathered the microscopic critique of both families, her transition into the Navy, and his rise in notoriety. She was proud of her man’s accomplishments. Logan was a brilliant surgeon and medical researcher. But the society page publicity surrounding their wedding resembled the giant soap bubbles she enjoyed as a little girl—magical, easily damaged, and utterly destroyed with a modicum of pressure.

  Not that she would ever say this to him...to them. While she’d been away serving her country, everyone had rallied to make her wedding day special. Which brought her back to the current dilemma. The Walters family and the Masters clan, an oil and Perrier water mix-up, an ever-expanding social distancing experience, had formed a fragile truce. Ava’s rejection of the activities surrounding the big day might sever the fluid bond. She wanted everyone to celebrate their marriage. Probably naïve. But weddings should unite, not tear families apart. Not that she expected a “kumbaya moment,” but she could endure another four months, right?

  She should accept that every detail of her wedding didn’t actually have to reflect her preferences.

  Everything would work out fine. Better than fine.

  So why did calm elude her? The last time she’d felt this churning in her belly, Logan had asked her to dance for the very first time.

  At her welcome to the Shell Cove Medical Center (SCMC) Pediatric unit nursing staff, Ava had recognized her vulnerability to his charm. He’d worn his arrogant confidence like a signet ring, imprinting his stamp on her...everywhere.

  She’d been enamored by his brilliance.

  His body.

  His bold approach.

  On a lesser man it would be pretentious, but with Logan it added to his sex appeal. Of course, precision cut reddish blond locks and the beard scruff covering his angular jaw helped. With his thick lashes, piercing emerald eyes, and six foot two inches of bronzed muscle, Logan’s physical attributes had driven her to distraction. The sense of power he exuded bordered on lethal. And now, he was going to be her husband. Who could’ve imagined emotionally blunted Ava Elaine would grab the attention of Shell Cove’s favorite pediatric surgeon and most eligible bachelor?

  Falling head over military boots for Logan had broadened her perspective. He credited the Navy for the new command on her life. In truth, his love had lifted her above the previous doubts she’d held about her own abilities. After suffering Marcus’s verbal and physical abuse, Ava had filtered every decision through her abuser’s hypercritical lens. She lived her life shrouded in fear. Fear of repeating the same mistake. Logan’s unconditional support and confidence in her success had made it possible for her to leave the safety of her family and Shell Cove to join the military and live out her dream career. She hadn’t been kidding when she’d called him her hero. Logan was her love of a lifetime.

  Dropping into her comfy office chair, she smiled at the bouquet of flowers on her desk. A colorful array of lemon scented bee balms and lavender delphiniums surrounded by a bluish-purple rainbow of windflowers.

  She plucked the business card sized envelope from the arrangement and read the cursive script aloud, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Her heart filled with love for the man she’d chosen to be her husband. Tears sprang to her eyes, and she chided herself for being too emotional.

  Leaning over, she buried her nose in the perennial blooms, careful not to scatter pollen on the three military ribbons above her left breast pocket. She was most proud of the green and orange Navy-Marine Corps Achievement Medal earned during deployment. Inhaling the crisp smell of outdoor blooms, she whispered, “I love me some, Logan Masters.”

  She logged onto the computer before stowing her purse in the right lower desk drawer. The first email was from Logan. Of course.

  Dr. Magic Hands here. Interview went great. In a creative mood. Call me.

  Visualizing his cocky grin, Ava laughed aloud. A flood of pride and happiness washed away her concerns, revealing a clear picture of her future. Logan was perfect for her. Was she paying too high a price dealing with his family and the wedding changes?

  She swallowed the disappointment. To have forever with Logan...definitely worth the momentary discomfort. Suddenly, a gurgle erupted from Ava’s belly, and saliva pooled in her mouth.

  “Oh no,” she covered her mouth with one hand. “Not today, Satan.” That was a Granny Lou quote. Her grandmother had a ton of pithy one-liners.

  Worsening stomach problems had led her to schedule a primary appointment with routine labs before climbing the stairs to her fourth-floor office. The labs were precautionary. Better safe than infected with a rare National Geographic parasite.

  She rubbed at her stomach, praying the churning subsided before her first meeting of the day. A cramp of pain shot through her pelvis, momentarily paralyzing her, seconds before a wave of nausea crash landed in her gut. Instinctively, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and willed the urge to erupt away.

  “I got this,” she reminded herself, swallowing the nausea and taking a few deep breaths. Man, pre-wedding jitters sucked. No one wrote about this in the bridal magazines. She needed coffee and maybe some breakfast.

  Placing the back of her hand to her forehead, another of Granny Lou’s throwbacks, Ava assessed her skin temperature.

  Cool and clammy. Well, she’d take that over sweaty and fevered. She had a wedding to plan.

  The scrape of the doorstopper against the carpeted floor snatched Ava back to the present. Jerking her head up, she pasted on a smile for her project manager.

  “Came by earlier,” Asher said walking in and dropping a manila folder in front and center.

  Straightening in her chair, Ava’s gaze bounced from the file she knew held vendor proposals to the second steamy cup of coffee in his left hand.

  “I stopped by the lab first.”

  As the nurse manager, the project she co-chaired with Ash, retrofitting the clinic with state-of-the-art equipment, had taken a back seat to her health. She was glad to see he’d kept abreast of the vendor options and departmental requests. He stalled for a second, delaying her java gratification.

  “For you, madam.”

  Accepting his offering with greedy hands, Ava returned his genuine smile with one of her own. “Thank yo
u.”

  Understated would sum up Asher Wilherm. White polo, gray slacks, black belt and shoes. Though she was the uniformed officer, her partner had a regimented dress code. Always black, white, and gray. He tended to slouch, shaving a few inches from his obvious height. He kept his dark hair cut close to the scalp. Clean-shaven, camel-colored brows behind dark-rimmed glasses showcased gray eyes that radiated a brilliant calm few appreciated. Average features bracketed by a square jaw, his smile neither enhanced nor distracted from his looks.

  Angling the navy-blue pleather chair in front of her desk, he lowered his lean frame into the seat. He gestured to the file with his paper cup. “The numbers for one-hundred and thirty new fully-automated exam tables. Guaranteed to lift your body and your mood.”

  With a casual glance in her direction, Ash asked. “How’s your stomach today?”

  Had she slipped up and mentioned how bothersome the nausea was to her daily routine? Co-chairing this multi-million-dollar project with the civilian contractor had increased Ava’s visibility with the executive medical staff ten-fold. The largest tasking of her career had to succeed. She had to prove that she could manage a project of this magnitude. It would be a mistake to give the appearance of physical or mental weakness.

  He raised a brow. “What?”

  She grinned, “Nothing.” Well, now she’d lied. How should she divert the conversation away from her personal life, yet get the answer to the question?

  “Ava,” he sighed. “Relax.” He sat forward, placing his own coffee cup on the edge of her desk. “I asked because you’ve been rubbing your belly a lot lately.”

  Ava stretched her eyes wide in disbelief. “Have I?” she queried, blind to the subconscious behavior. “You’re observant. It’s a rare quality.”

  Ash shrugged as if it was commonplace to note such a subtlety.

  “Yeah, well...I lost someone close to me when I was young. She taught me about people.” He picked up the cup and drank, clearing his throat as if he’d said too much. Whoever the woman was she must have been important to Ash. He talked a lot, but divulged little personal information.

  “Besides, we’ve been working together for a month. We may not talk about our lives beyond these walls, but I know things,” he grinned.

  “Like?” Ava thought back to the articles printed in the Shell Cove Courier.

  “Your fiancé is a star surgeon. According to the reporting of Kylie Rivers your wedding will make Vatican City envious. Which is weird because I don’t see you as a showy peacock.”

  Ava stiffened, caught off guard by the not-so subtle jab. Where the heck had that unwarranted attack on Logan come from? To her knowledge the two men had never met. There were some people, like her father, who thought Logan valued his career and the attention more than he could a wife. Ava knew Logan better than anyone. Underneath the arrogance, the lights and cameras, she came first with him. Their love had and would always be his priority.

  Coffee set aside, she looked at her colleague, staring him in the eye. “It just got real dark in here. You’re throwing shade at my fiancé.” Yes, she went there. She might not like the Barnum & Bailey wedding, but nobody messed with her Logan.

  Ash’s brow furrowed at the abrupt change in her demeanor. “Ava,” he cooed, obviously trying to clean up the acidity of the comment, “I was out of line. Didn’t realize you’re a combat-ready nurse.”

  She cracked a weary smile, “When necessary,” she rasped, her thoughts quieting. “You read all this about me in the newspaper?”

  “Staff lounge chats too,” absently rotating his cup in hand. “I’m a great listener.”

  And watcher, Ava noted. Should she be concerned that her fellow co-workers talked about her? She wasn’t used to colleagues knowing details about her life...nor offering commentary. Absently, she wondered what else Asher observed.

  He winked. “Anything I heard wrong?”

  “You’ll have to wait for the breaking news,” she mused, picking up her drink again.

  Taking a long draw from her coffee, Ava hummed as the smooth brew warmed her insides.

  “Good?” he asked, taking a sip from his cup.

  Forming an “o” with her thumb and forefinger, she gave a twisted grin. “Hah.” She screwed up her lips, “It’s okay.”

  Ash placed a hand to his heart as if her words had wounded him. “I need a Band-Aid.”

  “Yeah, you want a tiny violin too?” They both regarded each other before bursting into laughter. “You know you’re the resident barista. Shame on you fishing for compliments.”

  He raised both hands, palms up. “I promise not to let my success go to my head,” he feigned.

  “A humble man.”

  “That’s me.”

  “No such thing within the male species,” she grinned, flipping the cover page to thumb through the files he’d delivered. “I noticed the Tyson Adventis proposal was missing from your last vendor comparison list.”

  “I’ve checked them out,” he interrupted.

  “Before our next meeting with the Commanding Officer,” Ava closed the folder, marching forward to her point for raising the issue. “I want to review their numbers. Hands down, their 24/7-customer support is a great selling point, plus their maintenance plan—”

  “Several of the competitors beat their price.”

  Maybe she needed to clarify with Ash that she would make her own decisions. The old Ava would have accepted someone she trusted taking the choice out of her hands, but those days were gone. Logan had helped her trust in her own judgment. “So, there’s not a problem with me looking at the numbers and reaching the same conclusion?”

  Ash’s cheeks reddened. “Touché, LT Walters.”

  Mindful of maintaining a healthy working relationship, Ava offered an olive branch. “Instead of keeping score, let collaboration and communication serve as our benchmark, okay?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, chagrinned by his strong-arm tactics.

  “Sorry, Ava.”

  Ash used her first name, which she didn’t mind as long as they were in her office. Even dressed in the working khaki uniform of the day with her curls gelled to within an inch of their tensile strength, Ava looked younger than the other officers of the same rank. Like any other male-dominated profession, allowing the staff to use her first name rather than defer to her rank would diminish her positional authority. As a civilian, Ash wouldn’t be privy to all the nuances of the chain of command, but Ava was a fast learner. Avoiding the perception of familiarity would serve her well.

  Beep Beep. The phone on her desk signaled an incoming call. Beep Beep. She recognized the number. Lieutenant Isabeth Quinones managed the laboratory on the clinic’s first floor. Ava had asked for a heads up if her lab results were of concern. The blonde-haired, blue-eyed medical service corps officer had shared her stateroom during deployment. Sharing an eight by eight-foot metal box for six months lent itself to lasting bonds across cultural and ethnic lines.

  “Apology accepted, but no more decisions without me.” Ash was one of the good ones, so she tried not to beat him up too bad over the slip.

  With a thumbs up, he said. “Got it.”

  Placing her hand on the receiver, she stated, “I have to take this call.”

  “Sure thing,” he smiled, coming to his feet. “Review my notes and we can talk over lunch.”

  Without looking at her calendar, she nodded, accustomed to working through lunch in order to stay on top of fine details.

  “Isabeth,” she beamed, adding a calm to her voice she didn’t feel. Why was she calling already? Her blood had been drawn less than 20 minutes ago. Had Ava contracted one of those rare infections Logan warned her about?

  “You’re pregnant and you didn’t tell me, my sista from another mister?” Isabeth blurted out.

  There was a pause. If a patient had overheard the sista comment, they both would be repeating sensitivity training, but that wasn’t the reason for Ava’s current catatonic state. Nope. The wor
d pregnant definitely grabbed and held her attention.

  “Ah... I beg your pardon,” Ava stammered. How did a measles case get cross-threaded with a pregnancy test?

  “You’ve had morning sickness for weeks. Why are you playing the secrecy game?” Isabeth demanded.

  Playing? Ava didn’t have a game plan for this news. A doctor and a nurse, both competent, living under the same roof, yet they’d missed...this. Ava stared at her mid-section.

  Ava swallowed. “Sorry, Isabeth. I have—,”

  “You should be. Thank God you weren’t hurt wrestling with that contractor high on Galaxy a few weeks back.”

  Ava recalled how quickly the temporary worker had slammed his muscled forearm into her neck. The delirium she experienced as her air supply diminished, as screams of chaos erupted. The instinct to fight; to aim for his eyes, which had freed her. The sale of the illicit street drug and the associated violence amongst rival distributors had infiltrated Shell Cove and Ava’s South Georgia-based military clinic. The arrest and conviction of Bluton “Sky” Faraday, a respected local businessman and Galaxy kingpin, hadn’t slowed the devastation. It was rumored a woman known as the Barren Mother was the true mastermind behind the entire eastern seaboard distribution chain.

  “Thank God. You’re so right.” Pregnant with a baby. How was this possible? She needed to be more careful. Once she informed Logan, the world will have to contend with a grizzly bear for nine-wait, how many months was she?

  “I know that,” Isabeth continued. “You need to schedule your OB appointment, pronto.”

  She’d been home four weeks. Shouldering the phone, Ava fumbled with the giant calendar covering the surface of her desk. Flipping the page, she started counting the days since her last cycle.

  “Ugh,” Ava groaned. “Singapore.”

  “I knew it. You’re having a deployment baby,” Isabeth practically shouted. “I’m in charge of the office baby shower and—,”

  Ava calculated they’d conceived three and a half to four months ago. And the wedding, oh my Todd, only a three-ring circus tent would hide her pregnant belly.