Mother by Design

by Susan Mallery

  “Here,” she said and pushed the plate toward him with one hand while she confiscated the unwrapped muffin with the other. She opened it, cut it in half and kept one for herself. “There,” she said in satisfaction, giving his part back to him. “There’s nonfat milk in the fridge.”

  “Aren’t you going to bring it to me?” His tone was dry, but it did contain a shred of amusement.

  “Why? You got a broken leg?” She silently groaned after the wisecrack slipped out. She waited for him to put her in her place. Politely, of course.

  His smile broadened a tiny bit as he went to fetch his own drink. He wasn’t given to throwing pleasantries around, she’d noticed in the years they’d worked together.

  Two months ago, he’d assumed total charge of the Emergency Room after the old doctor who’d been there about a hundred years finally retired. She wondered if she should mention her plan for when the baby came. She was going to take six months off, thanks to her split of the $500,000 lottery she and Lily and Rachel had won last year.

  The other two were her best friends from high school days. The three had gone through nurses’ training together at the University of Oregon. They had also agreed to have babies via artificial insemination when they reached thirty-four, assuming three Mr. Rights hadn’t come along by then.

  The ideal man hadn’t materialized for any of them, so they’d put their plan in action after winning the money, which they’d taken as a good omen.

  They’d needed the change in fortune, Jenna mused. Lily had been left at the altar on her wedding day a year ago last June. The three had won the lottery that same day.

  That’s when they’d decided to heck with men, they would have children without ’em!

  Well, not exactly. They’d gone to a clinic for a little help in that department. Later, tired of Lily pining over her lost love, Rachel had admitted she’d had a one-night stand with the former fiancé, not knowing at the time that he was Lily’s mysterious Mr. X, the man she’d been dating in secret while his divorce came through.

  Mr. Louse was a better description, Jenna mentally corrected. He’d caused a terrible breach in the women’s friendship, and Jenna had been caught in the middle between the other two. They’d only recently started speaking to each other again. It had been a difficult year—

  “What is it?” her companion asked.

  Jenna was shaken out of her introspection. “What?”

  “You’re frowning,” he told her.

  “Oh.” She opened her mouth, then closed it. The three pregnancies had already caused the gossip mill to grind overtime in their community. She wasn’t going to add to it by airing her feelings.

  “Are you doing okay?” He gestured vaguely toward her.

  “Yes. I’ve had no problems since I got past that dreadful first three months.”

  He nodded solemnly.

  She felt heat creep into her face. Everyone in the E.R. had been aware of her distress. She had never had trouble with nausea in her life, but during those early days she’d dashed to the rest room frequently while her body adjusted to the pregnancy. The other nurses had thought the situation was hilarious.

  Right. Ha-ha.

  Glancing his way, she saw his eyes locked on her, his gaze starkly intense as he studied the portion of her body visible above the table. She was sure his mind wasn’t on her, but on the past.

  His wife and unborn child had died in an accident two years ago when her car had been struck by a drunken driver. For months afterward, looking into his eyes had been like looking into twin pits of hell. Everyone knew he blamed himself. The couple had quarreled and his wife had driven off in a fury.

  Since Jenna had become noticeably pregnant, she’d found his gaze on her at odd moments in this same manner, as if all were dark and hurting inside him, as if she reminded him of that painful time in his life.

  She lowered her gaze and concentrated on finishing every bite of her dinner. She needed the energy to make it until ten o’clock. She’d opted to work four ten-hour shifts, Wednesday through Saturday, since the pregnancy, thinking she’d get more done on refinishing the baby furniture her father had brought up after she’d told him the news.

  “Now you’re smiling,” the doctor said. “Your moods are as changeable as the weather.”

  “I’m refinishing my old baby furniture. I’ve never tried anything like that, so it’s been an interesting learning experience.”

  “I’ve found most learning experiences result from some disaster or another,” he said wryly.

  She had to laugh. “Yes. I’ve discovered you can’t mix water-based paint with oil-based. Actually, I knew that, but I was so excited to be doing something for the baby, I forgot to check the labels when I poured the new paint into the roller tray over the remains of the first can.” She sighed loudly. “One can recover, though. It’s a matter of patience and persistence.”

  His eyes seemed fathoms deep as he observed her over the edge of the milk carton. When he set the empty carton aside, he murmured, “There are some things beyond recovery.”

  Her heart went out to him. He hadn’t forgiven himself for his part in his family’s tragedy. Just as her pregnancy signaled a new turn in her life, she thought the competent, workaholic doctor needed a new turn in his.

  He also needed something to focus on besides the hospital and the trauma cases he treated. There had to be more to life than other people’s tragedies. Thank goodness she had something special to look forward to.

  She laid a hand on her side where the baby was kicking as if practicing for a soccer game. She was aware of her own blessings and grateful that she’d decided to have this child, that she had a dependable career and could afford to take care of it.

  “Maybe,” she said gently in answer to his statement. “But most are, I think.”

  His expression hardened and his gaze became cynical. “Not all.”

  There didn’t seem to be much to add to that. After polishing off her half of the banana-nut muffin, she rose. “I think I’ll get back.”

  At that moment, the pager on her belt vibrated. She jerked, startled.

  Eric Thompson looked at his pager. “Emergency,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Together they hurried down the hall to meet the new crisis.

  Chapter 2

  Two hours later, Eric threw the wrinkled E.R. scrubs into the laundry bin, then washed his hands and face. After drying off on paper towels, he used an alcohol gel on his hands as a final precaution.

  Heading for the parking lot, he wondered why he was so careful. Habit, he supposed. He’d tried not to bring germs home to his family. Now, he no longer had anyone at home to be careful for.

  Pushing the dark thoughts into the back corner of his mind, he hurried across the parking lot. After unlocking his car, he paused before climbing in and frowned as a boy on a skateboard, who looked around thirteen or fourteen years old, hurtled down the slope of the E.R. driveway. If the kid couldn’t stop in time and shot across the sidewalk into the street, there could be a serious accident.

  He glanced toward the hedge that divided the parking area from the street. No vehicles in sight, thank God.

  Every nerve in his body jerked when he spotted someone on the other side of the hedge, a person with smooth blond hair. Jenna! She’d left the hospital by the side door and was on the sidewalk, heading that way.

  The kid, making no attempt to slow down, whizzed toward the spot where the hospital driveway and the sidewalk crossed. Jenna, looking down, hurried on her way toward the same spot. Eric shouted and sprinted toward the pair.

  He saw the surprise on her face as she paused by a car parked at the curb, and glanced toward the E.R. entrance to make sure no ambulance was about to pull out.

  The boy, looking equally startled, was headed directly at her. She leaped back.

  Eric’s heart gave a painful lurch as he witnessed the kid’s shoulder swipe Jenna. The boy swept past her at full tilt and disappeared down the street, obviously
wanting to get away from the scene and the possible repercussions.

  The pregnant E.R. nurse careened off the fender of the parked car, then hit the sidewalk. Fear crawled over his skin like a thousand millipedes leaping onto his back. He muttered a curse as he finally reached Jenna, who struggled to a sitting position.

  “Don’t move,” he advised, kneeling beside her and visually examining her for injury. At least she wasn’t bleeding anywhere that he could see.

  “Can’t,” she gasped.

  He realized she’d had the breath knocked out of her. “Arms over your head,” he said and helped her lift them. “Now compress.”

  He gently coaxed her to bend forward to push air out of her lungs until her diaphragm began working once more. He heard her breath catch, then she inhaled fully. Supporting her as she leaned into him, he let her get her breath back before slipping his hands around her and palpating her abdomen to assess any possible damage.

  “I’m okay,” she said. “A bit bruised but not broken. Help me up.”

  He did so, but kept an arm around her waist as she stood. He could feel tremors running through her body.

  “Let’s go inside. You’ll need to stay overnight—”

  “I want to go home.”

  He frowned as she pushed away from him and, hand shaking badly, tried to fit the key into the lock of her car she’d crashed into.

  “You could have been seriously injured,” he scolded. “You need to pay attention to what’s going on around you. Surely you heard the noise from the skateboard and realized it was close.”

  “I’ll listen more carefully next time.”

  Spunky, he thought, a tug of admiration surprising him. But foolish. “You live alone, don’t you?”

  “Yes, in a condo on Burney.” She opened the door.

  “You’re in no shape to drive.”

  Her hair band was gone, and the wind blew the long gossamer fine strands around her face. Without thinking, he tucked it behind her ears when she tried to get it out of her eyes with a toss of her head.

  For a second, he let his fingers linger in the silky warmth. The fragrance of flowers came to him from her body, heated from the accident.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” she said in a low voice, as if she didn’t want anyone to overhear her admit to weakness.

  As she turned and bent forward, he moved with her, cupping his body behind hers and putting his hands on her abdomen and forehead as her body reacted to the trauma with dry heaves. After a few seconds, she brought the spasms under control and leaned against the car, her forehead resting on her arm, hiding her face from him.

  “Jenna?”

  “I’m all right,” she assured him.

  Eric didn’t move away or release his hold around her waist. With his free hand, he rubbed her shoulders until he felt her relax. Now that the emergency was over, other sensations came to the forefront of his mind.

  He noticed her breasts brushed his arm with each long, shuddering breath she took. He sternly curbed an urge to turn his hand just enough to cup the alluring weight, and tease her nipple into attention.

  Next, he became aware that his feet were planted on each side of hers so that her hips fit snugly against his groin. When she shifted her weight, he felt the movement in an intimate manner. To his shock and more than a little consternation, his body reacted with a strong surge of blood in the nether regions. Hunger pulsed through him, causing a wave of need so strong he almost groaned aloud.

  He cursed silently and tried to imagine diving into a snowbank in the middle of winter. His libido reminded him it was spring and hot…damned hot…

  She moved again, and he stepped back a few inches. She indicated her purse, clasped to her side. “When I heard you shout, I thought it was a mugger.” She laughed. “At least I still have my dowry.”

  Her words didn’t make any sense. He gazed deeply into her eyes when she glanced at him over her shoulder. Was she hallucinating?

  “A line from a play,” she explained. “Sweet Charity. Neil Simon. Her boyfriend ran off with her savings—”

  “Come on,” he said, “let’s get you home.”

  He locked her car door, then led her to his vehicle. After fastening her into the passenger seat, he got in the driver’s side and started the engine.

  “My car—”

  “Will be fine for the night,” he told her. “I’ll call the security chief at the hospital and tell him what happened. He’ll keep an eye on it.”

  She nodded, sighed and leaned her head on the seat without further argument. He kept an eye on her after she closed her eyes and seemingly went to sleep.

  “Which one’s yours?” he asked when they arrived at the residential complex. He’d recalled the place after she’d mentioned the street.

  “Park in the next section,” she directed. “Slot 2A.”

  He eased into the parking space and turned off the engine. “Stay put,” he ordered.

  Going around the four-wheel-drive SUV, he helped her out and, holding her elbow, ushered her to the condo she pointed out. She kept stealing glances at him.

  “What?” he finally asked, wondering if she’d caught the vibes of desire he was probably giving off with every step.

  “I didn’t realize you were so chivalrous, doctor.”

  “Eric,” he corrected.

  “Eric,” she said softly.

  The wind blew across the back of his neck just then, making the word feel like a verbal caress. Another wave of hunger washed over him. He set his jaw and helped her up the three steps to her front porch.

  The outside light gleamed on her hair, turning it into a pale halo around her face. He’d never really noticed how pretty she was, not in any personal way, at any rate. Now he couldn’t seem to stop.

  Her lips were full and well-defined as if they’d been chiseled by a master sculptor. Her eyes were deep, pure blue. Her hair was Nordic blond.

  Viking blood. The image fit with the fantasy that was growing in his imagination.

  Inhaling deeply, he managed to direct his mind to the practicalities of taking her key and opening the door, then flicking on the wall switch and seating her on the sofa before taking her purse, which she gave up without a struggle, and placing it on the coffee table.

  “Lie down,” he said.

  Her glance was plainly startled. “What for?”

  “I, uh, need to examine you for bleeding or amniotic fluid seepage.”

  “Oh.” She looked past him. “I can check,” she said.

  He started to protest, then he realized she was embarrassed. That surprised him. After all, he was a doctor and quite used to looking at the human body.

  But not hers. A strong surge of heat rioted through his blood at the thought. It had been a long time since he’d reacted this way to a woman. It was damned annoying.

  Sitting beside her, he laid his hands on her abdomen. He watched her for signs of discomfort as he pressed along her sides. “Do you have pain anywhere? Any cramps in the lower back or abdomen? Does your head hurt? Your shoulder?”

  She shook her head to each question.

  “Follow my finger,” he ordered, unwilling to give up until he was sure she was okay.

  She rolled her eyes in exasperation, then smiled in her usual sunny fashion and did as she was told. Her eyes stayed focused. She’d walked from the car to the condo without wobbling. She didn’t seem to be in pain.

  “Where’s the bathroom?” he asked.

  She nodded down the hallway. He helped her to her feet.

  “I’ll walk you to the door,” he said in no uncertain terms when she tried to step away from him.

  “Yes, sir, doctor, sir,” she said meekly.

  He grinned. She was back to normal. Her insouciance was one of the things he liked about her. That, and her way with panicky patients, not to mention their relatives, in the Emergency Room. She was an excellent E.R. nurse.

  Propped against the wall, he waited for her return. His stomach growled.
He was hungry in more ways than one.

  “How about a cup of hot chocolate?” he asked when she reappeared. “I’m expert at making it.”

  She considered, then nodded. “The kitchen is that way.” She pointed down the short hallway.

  A fact he’d already ascertained. A set of stairs led to the second floor, where he assumed the bedrooms were. “Let’s get you to bed, then I’ll bring it up to you.”

  Again a quick glance from her before she started up the steps. There were three rooms upstairs, he found. Two were bedrooms and the other a home office with a nice desk and computer. He wondered what she used them for.

  “In here.” She pointed to one of the bedrooms.

  The room was painted with one of those faux finishes that looked like real plaster with a blue wash on it. The bed was made up with a blue and yellow floral coverlet and striped sheets that matched the drapes. Like her, it was pretty and compelling in its femininity.

  He left her to get into her pajamas while he raided the kitchen and put in the call to hospital security. In less than ten minutes, he’d completed his task and was carrying a tray with two cups and a plate of cookies up the stairs.

  Jenna was just pulling the sheet back when he entered the bedroom. Her nightgown was ankle length, but that didn’t stop him from seeing the shape of her legs, the sweet curve of her hips and rounded tummy or the thrust of her breasts against the cotton. The bedside lamp was behind her and displayed her charms in a mind-boggling silhouette.

  He stopped at the foot of the bed as if his feet were suddenly glued to the floor. His mouth went dry. A pulse hammered in his temples, sending a deep bass kaboom-kaboom-kaboom throughout his whole body with each beat.

  She glanced at him with a smile as she slipped into bed and pulled the top sheet over her legs. “That smells delicious,” she said. “You found the cookies. Good. I’m hungry. I’m always hungry,” she added on a lament.

  He managed a smile although his face felt as if it was made from stiff plastic. After placing the tray across her lap, he took his cup and stepped back. Hooking a toe on a side chair next to the lamp table, he pulled it closer to the bed and took a seat.