The Doctor's Pregnant Bride? Page 7

  Dr. Ted Bonner fascinated her. When he set his mind to do something, he did it all the way, giving his complete attention. In bed, would he—

  A buzzer rang, disrupting her escalating fantasy.

  “Too soon for the food. Must be the furniture delivery. They’re early,” he said, hesitating for a moment, then standing and moving to look at a closed-circuit screen. He stepped into the elevator. “I’m sorry to cut the foot rub short.”

  Me, too. More than you’ll ever know. She grabbed her soda, trying to look casual. Which worked until Caro came out of the elevator with Ted, talking animatedly, flirting outrageously. The woman didn’t even have the sense to dial down the flirt volume when she saw Sara Beth.

  “I was just explaining to Ted,” she said, as he sent the elevator back down, “that he might not be happy with the rug you chose for the living area, so I brought a few more to look at, just in case.”

  “How thoughtful,” Sara Beth said, keeping the sarcasm to a minimum.

  “What a great space,” Caro exclaimed. “You’re going to need a lot more furniture, though, don’t you think?”

  “For now I’m going to live with what I got today,” Ted said, “then decide what else I need.”

  Sara Beth was trying to get a handle on whether Caro was more interested in making sales or making Ted.

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Caro moved to the window. “You have a fabulous view.”

  Ted winked at Sara Beth. She decided he’d figured out Caro just fine, was not as oblivious as he seemed.

  When the elevator door opened, two burly men emerged then unloaded six large area rugs. The next hour was spent laying out each rug, rearranging the furniture each time. Their Thai food was delivered, Sara Beth’s stomach growling as it sat on the counter, calling her name.

  Finally they settled on the rug they’d originally chosen, the furniture was put in place, and his bed set up. Caro lingered, offering advice on what else he should consider. Ted committed to nothing, and finally got her out the door.

  “I don’t suppose you have place mats,” Sara Beth said as she began heating up the food in the microwave.

  He gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look.

  “Paper towels?”

  “I’ll get them. You must be starving.”

  “I could eat the paper towels, I think.”

  He laughed. “She’s quite a pitch woman, isn’t she?”

  Sara Beth shrugged.

  “I know you have an opinion,” he said.

  “She’s good at her job.”

  “Not really.” He grabbed two plates and some silverware and set everything on the new dining room table.

  “You bought a whole lot of stuff from her.”

  “I would’ve bought more if she hadn’t been so pushy. Which means,” he added, catching Sara Beth’s gaze, “more shopping at different places to finish up.”

  So, he wasn’t a pushover, wasn’t just making choices to get the decorating over with. Good. “I’m available next Saturday.”

  “Thanks.” He laid a hand over hers as she set a carton on the dining room table. “For today. For helping at the institute. For bringing a little fun into my life.”

  She swallowed. “Ditto.”

  “Ditto,” he repeated, grinning, shaking his head. “Okay. You’re welcome.”

  By the time they were done eating, hung a few pieces of art and made a list of everything else they thought he might need to buy, Sara Beth almost fell asleep standing up next to his bed, which they’d just made up. It was finally off the floor.

  “So, you’re not hungry anymore, I imagine,” he said.

  “Definitely not.”

  “And your feet feel okay?”

  She wriggled her toes. “Fine.”

  “Which leaves your aching back.”

  Panic had her pulse thrumming in a hurry. “I’m rested. I feel good.”

  “You just spent a couple of hours climbing up and down ladders, and holding large pieces of art over your head.” His smile was a slow burn, as if he knew how attracted she was—and how scared to give in to it.

  Unless she was truly under the power of wishful thinking, he’d been testing the waters with her all day, making flattering comments, giving her the eye, smiling in that way that showed interest beyond coworker or friend, no matter what they labeled their relationship.

  She waited for him to make it clear what he was after, but he didn’t say or do anything. She decided to retreat, to think the situation over. “I should get home,” she said, sidling around him to return to the living room.

  “So soon?”

  Sara Beth laughed. They’d spent twelve hours together.

  She stuffed her notebook in her purse. He swiped his keys from the counter, then stopped and looked around at the partially furnished living/dining room. “Already a big improvement,” he said, eyeing the dark brown leather sofa and side chairs, the modern dining table and sleek nickel-and-leather chairs, and the red-and-brown area rug.

  She nodded. “I have to admit I was feeling pretty cocky when you decided you liked the rug we picked out at the store best, instead of any of the others that Caro brought.”

  “When I make up my mind, I rarely change it.”

  “Even about decorating your place, apparently, which was way out of your comfort zone.”

  “I had great help.” He tossed his keys lightly. “I may not have vision, but I know what I like.”

  “What do you suppose your parents will think?”

  “It will only matter that it’s done. And that my grandmother Holly’s portrait of my mom as a little girl is up in a prominent place.”

  They took the elevator down and got in the car. “Want to stop someplace for dessert?” he asked, putting the car in gear.

  “I couldn’t eat another bite.”

  They drove in silence. She wished she knew if he was thinking about his new decor, her or his work. Most likely, work.

  “Look at that,” he said as they neared her house. “Parking right out front.” He parallel parked, shut the engine off and opened his door.

  By the time she got out, he was there, extending a hand, which she took reluctantly. “You don’t have to walk me to my door. It’s not like this was a date.”

  “Humor me.” He let go of her hand.

  They moved up the short walkway, climbed the stairs. She put her key in the door then turned to him. “I’ll see you Monday morning.”

  He reached around her, turned the key and opened the door, then gestured for her to precede him up the second set of stairs to her apartment. She wouldn’t invite him in. She absolutely would not, even though she had cookies and cocoa, the perfect ending to the day. She made herself stand in the open doorway.

  “Good night, Ted.”

  She thought he was going to kiss her, but he wrapped his arms around her in an all-encompassing hug. She felt enveloped…and safe. His body felt familiar, when it shouldn’t. She curved her arms up his back, pulling herself closer, feeling him from sturdy chest to hard thighs. He wrapped one arm around her midback, one a little lower, his fingertips resting on the upper curve of her rear. Her nipples hardened, wanting his touch, wishing he would pull her even closer. She barely resisted pressing her lips to his neck.

  She was aware of everything about him—his strength, his heat, the promise of satisfaction for the building need inside her—but also that they worked together. That he was a doctor. That he came from old Boston money, had a place in a level of society she didn’t know.

  That a woman like Tricia Trahearn was much more suitable for him.

  “Your friendship has come to mean a lot to me already,” he said, his breath disturbing her hair. He stepped back, his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you.”

  Friendship. The word righted her world again, put her in her place. She smiled brightly, probably too brightly. “You’re welcome.”

  He went down the stairs and was gone, leaving her body aching and unsatisfied—
and grateful. She was ready for marriage, a family.

  She didn’t need the complication of Dr. Ted Bonner.

  Ted spotted Sara Beth standing in front window, watching him. He raised a hand toward her then got into his car without waiting for a return wave. He drove off in a burst of speed.

  Why the hell had he hugged her like that? Let his hand drift down to the tempting curve of her rear? He’d been wanting to touch her since he’d come up to her bending in front of his refrigerator earlier, then later on when she’d helped him make his bed after the furniture men had left. She’d leaned over to smooth his sheets. He’d almost cupped that fine rear, had been stopped by her standing up, banging into him, a habit they’d gotten into, being clumsy around each other.

  Friends with benefits. He’d been thinking about it all day, as she’d frequently gotten into his space, brushing against him to get a better look at something, smiling at him or pursing her lips as she studied a piece. She had a quick, easy laugh, light and joyful, and a slow, smoldering heat that appeared less often, but did appear, although he had to catch her off guard to see it.

  And then there was the hug. He’d taken her into his arms without thinking, prepared to just give her a good-night hug, a thanks-for-everything short embrace. Then it had become something else. Even she had felt it. She’d moved closer to him instead of away. Her breath turned shaky. She’d gone up on tiptoe, which had aligned their hips. He’d pulled back before she could feel his reaction to her, had seen her nipples pressing against her T-shirt, an invitation he wished he could accept.

  Friends with benefits. He needed to give that more thought. Sure, he wanted marriage—but not yet, not even anything close to it. If he took a break now and then from his work, it needed to be for fun, for pleasure, not with an eye toward the future, no matter how much he wanted otherwise.

  For pleasure. The thought settled, a hazy fantasy that lingered as he parked and went up to his loft. He admired the newly decorated space for a minute, then decided to take a shower. His answering machine caught his eye, and he remembered the message from Tricia earlier, a call he’d ignored while Sara Beth was there.

  Friends with benefits. Tricia would fit the bill, at least the benefits part, and without complications. She’d invited him to dinner next Sunday for his birthday. He had no doubt they’d end up in bed, if that was what he wanted.

  And he wanted. But not Tricia.

  He wanted Sara Beth O’Connell. Exclusively.

  Chapter Eight

  A few days later Sara Beth peered into Lisa’s office. “You texted?”

  Lisa gestured her in. “Shut the door, please.”

  She was looking more stressed each day, her mouth set, a furrow between her brows. It was hard for Sara Beth to see her this way.

  “How about we go out tonight?” Sara Beth asked, sitting. “It’s hump day. Half-price drinks at Shots. Free fries with the burgers.” The always-crowded pub and grill was nestled in the center of the Cambridge medical community.

  “I can’t. I really wish I could.” Wisps of Lisa’s long hair had fallen around her face, a slight messiness that was rare for her, and it was only eight o’clock in the morning.

  Sara Beth leaned toward her. “I miss you. And I’m worried about you. You’ve lost weight. You can’t afford to lose weight.”

  “I’ll be fine.” She sat back, all business. “I need an update on your investigation, please.”

  Sara Beth frowned at the change of subject. “It’s moving along. We’ve gone back five years so far. The statistics haven’t been analyzed yet, and I think Ted wants to take it back further before we do. To uncover patterns, if there are any, before he comes to any conclusions. He wants a once-and-for-all conclusion. Don’t you?”

  “Of course. So, let’s do this. I want you to free up more time, as much as you can manage. We need to get to the bottom of this now.” Her hands were clenched, her knuckles white.

  Sara Beth studied her, the way she wouldn’t make eye contact, the lack of a smile. “What’s going on? There’s more than just what Ted and I are trying to learn, which is bad, but not enough to stress you out to this degree.”

  “There are some money issues….” Lisa put her hands over her eyes and groaned. “Oh, God. I didn’t mean to say that. Sara Beth, you can’t say a word to anyone. No one.”

  “I won’t. You know I won’t.” Fear whipped through her—about the institute, her job, her future. Everyone’s future. They’d helped so many people to have babies. That couldn’t end.

  And then there was Ted, so close to making that dream a reality for even more people.

  “Do you need me to tell Ted that I’m increasing your hours?” Lisa asked.

  “I will. He’ll be glad.” She wished she could confide in her best friend, tell her about last Saturday and get her opinion. Tell her that Ted was on her mind all the time. All the time. Maybe the distraction would be good for Lisa, too. “Please come to Shots with me, Lisa. You need a break.”

  “Not tonight.” Her phone rang, and Lisa picked it up, signaling the end of their conversation.

  Sara Beth headed to the lab, urgency in her step, worried for Lisa, fearful for the institute…and anxious for the opportunity to get into the vault much sooner than she’d anticipated. Through the lab window she saw Ted and Chance in an intense discussion, not arguing, just extraordinarily serious. Chance didn’t smile once.

  She hesitated, then finally opened the door and stuck her head in. “Is this a bad time? Should I come back later?”

  “That’d be good. Give us ten minutes, please,” Chance said.

  Ted turned and looked at her but didn’t seem to register her.

  She backed out, letting the door shut on its own, and leaned against the wall beside it. It seemed everyone was having some kind of crisis. And secrets.

  Annoyed at being left out of the loop, she wandered away, deciding to get a cup of coffee from the break room. As soon as she’d poured a cup, she got a text message from her mother:

  Hvng wndrful tme. Styng xtra wk. Love.

  Which reminded Sara Beth that her mother had never sent an itinerary. She’d said that she wouldn’t be out of cell-phone communication range, so what more did they need?

  Which possibly meant her mother wasn’t where she’d said she was going. Maybe she was with a man. More secrets.

  She typed Have fun in the text box and sent it to her mother, not asking the questions she wanted to, not calling her, either, figuring it would go to voice mail.

  Sara Beth sipped her coffee. Her life had gone from routine to unpredictable. She’d wanted to recapture some adventure, but the fun-and-games kind, not all this serious stuff.

  After ten minutes, she returned to the lab, dumping her mostly full coffee cup, since food and drink weren’t allowed. Ted and Chance were standing next to the centrifuge. Chance elbowed Ted, as if trying to get him to laugh, so Sara Beth felt free to go inside.

  “Thanks for waiting,” Chance said.

  “No problem. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” Ted answered, still looking serious, but not grim—or somber, or whatever that was she’d seen on his face before. “Good morning, Sara Beth.”

  “Hi. I have good news.” She didn’t know what to do with her hands, so she slipped them into her pockets. “I’ve been cleared to give you a lot more time so that we can finish up as soon as possible.”

  “That’s great,” Ted said.

  “I’m looking forward to getting back to normal myself,” Chance said. “Carrie’s doing an admirable job of filling in for you, Sara Beth, but she’s not you.”

  She smiled at the compliment. They did work well as a team. She respected him as a doctor. He was particularly good with the husbands, often counseling them separately through the in vitro process, knowing that most of the attention so often focused on the wives and their emotions. Sara Beth liked that he went the extra mile.

  “So,” she said, anticipation making her stomach do flip-flop
s. “I finished the latest box of files yesterday. Should I go to the vault and get more?”

  “I already did,” Ted said, pointing to the box next to her desk, which she hadn’t paid attention to, thinking it was the old box. “I hadn’t realized before, but I found out you’re not authorized.”

  Not authorized? She could never go into the vault? Never find her mother’s file? She grabbed her stomach, the pain so intense that nausea rose. She swallowed hard.

  “Hey.” Ted grabbed her as she swayed. “Sit down.”

  Chance rolled a chair behind her. She sank into it.

  “What’s wrong?” Ted asked, crouching in front of her, putting a hand on her forehead. “Are you sick?”

  She waded through the agony in her mind to find an answer for him. “I…had cereal this morning. Maybe the milk was bad,” she said, knowing it was lame, unable to think of anything else.

  Chance had his fingers on her wrist. Ted was lifting her eyelids, checking each eye.

  “Do you need to throw up?” he asked.

  The absurdity of the situation struck her. Here she was being tended to by two doctors, all because she’d been denied access to information she had no legal right to have, anyway. How guilty would she have felt if she had gone into the vault and gotten that information? What would she have done with it? She couldn’t contact the man after all these years, could she?

  No, it was better this way.

  And maybe at some point, she would actually believe that…

  “I’m okay. Really.” She gently pushed their hands away. “I don’t know what happened, but I’m all right now and ready to get to work.”

  “Just sit there for a while,” Ted said.

  She would rather go somewhere and cry, get it out of her system, but she was sure they wouldn’t let her out of their sight until they were satisfied she wasn’t going to pass out. “Okay,” she said.

  The timer on the centrifuge went off. As Ted reluctantly left her, Chance whispered, “Are you pregnant?”

  Shocked, she met his concerned gaze, her face heating up. “No!”