Cindy's Doctor Charming (12 page)

Within ten minutes they were sitting across from each other at her small table. She looked at the whole chicken he'd neatly carved into recognizable parts.

“You should have been a surgeon,” she said.

“Not my field of interest.” He sliced off a piece of meat and chewed. “How was your first day back?”

“Good. Normal. Nothing much to report.”

“That's a relief.”

She glanced up at him. “Were you worried? Is that why you stopped by?”

He shrugged. “I wanted to check up on you. And the baby. Just make sure everything was okay.”

“It was nice of you to bring food.” It was nice, period, but she kept that to herself. She took a bite and sighed with pleasure. “I can't believe how good this tastes.”

“You must be hungry.” He frowned. “Did you eat lunch today?”

“As a matter of fact I did. With Annie Daniels.”

He looked surprised. “Really?”

“I know. Shocked the heck out of me, too, when she came in the cafeteria and sat down at my table.”

“She's good people,” he said.

“Agreed. She advised me to put my energy into taking care of me and the baby. And I quote, ‘to hell with the rest of the crap.'” There was no point in mentioning what his partner had said about the weird and wonderful chemistry between men and women.

He grinned. “Gotta love Annie.”

Speaking of chemistry, Cindy felt a ridiculous tug of jealousy. She wasn't proud of it, but that didn't change the feeling. And there was no reason for it. Nathan's medical partner was married. The couple was looking into having children. Unlike them, she and Nathan weren't a couple, but they were definitely having a child. And they hadn't discussed any legalities or logistics. Maybe it was time to dip a toe into that water.

“So, did your mother tell you she wants to turn your home office into a nursery?”

He looked up quickly. “What?”

“Yeah. She showed me sketches for a wall mural— generic baby, boy and girl themes. She's going to let you make the final decision.”

“Big of her,” he mumbled, “what with me paying the mortgage and all.”

“They're really good, the sketches, I mean.” She met his gaze. “She claimed it's not talent, but practice because she had lots of time on her hands after your dad left.”

“She was only deserted once. I got it twice.” He put down his fork. “Three times if you count getting uprooted from home against my will and dumped in boarding school.”

“Oh, my—” Cindy didn't think. She just needed to touch him. Reaching across the table, she put her hand on his arm. The warm strength there was vivid contrast to the stark vulnerability in his expression. “How old were you?”

“Eight or nine.”

“Oh, Nathan—how awful. That's why you didn't have a childhood.”

He shrugged but didn't slide his arm away from her touch. “I got used to it.”

“Still—”

“It was hard. Eventually I realized they did me a favor. I made friends. Learned to be self-reliant. Independent. I got good grades and became a doctor.”

He learned about everything but love. The one time he gave it a try, fate kicked him in the teeth when his wife died. No wonder he couldn't reach out now. She could hardly blame him. But it made her so sad.

“Cindy?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you all right?”

“Sure.” She met his worried gaze. “Why?”

He turned his hand over and closed his fingers around hers. “You look like someone edited out the happy ending of one of your chick flicks.”

In a way, someone had. But that wasn't a place she wanted to go.

“No,” she said. “I was just thinking.”

“Uh oh. Scary.”

“I know, right?” She saw the expectant expression in his eyes and knew he was waiting for her to explain.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Life.” She shrugged. “It's pretty unfair sometimes.”

“How do you mean?”

“Your parents were so lucky to have you and they didn't appreciate the amazing gift of a child.”

He frowned, clearly not getting her drift. “Like I said, I'm okay. Boarding school didn't really turn me to the dark side or anything.”

“Right. I was actually thinking about Annie. She told me about losing her baby. And not being able to have another one. That had to be devastating.”

“Yeah. It sucks. She really wants kids.”

“That's what I mean. Your parents had a brilliant, handsome child—”

“Thank you.” His mouth curved up as humor pushed the darkness from his expression.

“That was simply the truth and not a comment made to inflate your already bloated ego.” She smiled. “But why does that happen? Your parents didn't appreciate the gift. And someone like Annie who would embrace the whole exciting and magical experience can't have it.”

“She's looking at surrogacy or adoption,” he said.

“That's what she told me.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Maybe that's the bigger plan.”

“What?” His gaze never wavered as he threaded his fingers with hers instead of releasing her hand.

Tingles danced through her, making it difficult to form a coherent thought. But she hunkered down and forced herself to concentrate. “There are so many children in this world who don't have homes and parents. Maybe she's meant to be a mom to a baby who doesn't have one.”

“That's a very rose-colored-glasses take on a lousy situation.”

“I guess I'm just a rose-colored-glasses kind of gal,” she said. “It beats doom and gloom.”

“And I don't believe in fate, destiny and a grand plan. Give me science, data. Hard evidence. I'll take that over mysticism and conjecture any day of the week.”

“Don't you ever make a guess in practicing medicine?” she asked.

“It's an
educated
guess, based on scientific studies and verification.”

He'd said up front that he put facts over love, but part of her had been hoping it wasn't true. Now she knew he really needed to see and touch something to know it was real. Part of her wanted to shake some sense into him. The other part finally understood why he felt that way. And again sadness overwhelmed her.

His career was all about giving life a fighting chance, but in his life he wouldn't give love a chance. To her, that wasn't really living.

Cindy had grown up surrounded by love. She'd seen her parents pack a whole lot of living into life even when a cancer diagnosis cut their time together short. Her father had tenderly and with dedicated devotion nursed his wife until she took her last breath.

That's the kind of love she wanted.

It meant her problem was the exact opposite of Nathan's. She'd seen how good love could be and tended to jump into a relationship with both feet. But her eyes were wide open now. No matter how good it felt to have Nathan watching over her, she needed to resist her pattern. The jerk who'd put her in debt had just stolen her money and trust.

With Nathan, going all in could be a bigger disaster. Repairing bad credit was a walk in the park compared to the impossibility of putting a broken heart back together.

N
athan watched the taillights of Cindy's aging compact brighten as she braked for the light on Water Street and Lake Mead Boulevard. Her right signal light went on and when traffic permitted, she made the turn. He did the same when it was safe to do so. Just as he'd been doing for weeks now. He knew the way to her house like the back of his hand.

They'd fallen into this routine since she'd gone back to work after the pregnancy scare. He either followed her home or, if he was tied up with a patient, he stopped by later when he was free. The official excuse, if anyone asked, was to make sure she was okay. But no one asked because he was careful not to draw attention to her, as she'd requested.

Privately, on some level, he knew this time was the best part of his day and he looked forward to it. If anyone
demanded an explanation, he would swear on a stack of Bibles that this was about avoiding his mother.

Shirley was in a holding pattern, too. For some reason she hadn't returned to her condo in LA and was sticking around longer than usual. She claimed it was about her astrology class and the genius teacher who was tutoring her about the alignment of stars and planets. But Nathan suspected it had more to do with Cindy and the baby. Apparently making excuses to cover a certain behavior was a Steele family trait.

But the fact was, he wasn't the only Steele who dropped in on Cindy. Originally skeptical of her motives, Shirley had stopped by on the pretext of getting to know the woman who would be the mother of her first grandchild. She was nothing if not cynical and eventually had been won over. His baby mama's sweet nature had made his mother a fan.

That
didn't run in the family. He was simply doing his duty.

He parked at the curb in front of her house just as she stepped out of her car. Obviously she'd made it just fine and he could have waved and driven away. But that's not what he did. After exiting the driver's side, he met her and together they walked to the front door.

“Want to come in for dinner?” she asked.

“What's on the menu?” It didn't really matter because he wasn't planning to leave even if she was serving slop.

“Tacos. I put a chuck roast in the crock pot before leaving for work this morning. It should be stringy by now. All I have to do is assemble everything else.”

“I'll give you a hand.”

“Thanks.”

The porch light turned the honey color of her hair into a halo and the smile on her lips was nearly painful in its
sweetness and beauty. Who died and made him a poet? The poetic turn of his thoughts made him feel sheepish. Fortunately she wasn't a mind reader.

After opening the door, she flipped on the living room light and started inside. She stopped so suddenly that he ran into her. Either that or he was following too closely, just to stay within arm's reach of her warmth. Either way the result was the same. He wanted to wrap his arms around her.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

That was pretty much a lie. The only thing he was sorry about was that the contact was too brief. He wanted to pull her against him while he breathed in the fresh, floral fragrance of her hair. He wouldn't have to lower his head all that much to touch his mouth to her neck.

“I forgot to get the mail,” she said, starting to move around him.

“I'll get it.”

“That's okay, I'll just run back out.”

“No running. Let me.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

A few minutes outside to regroup was a good idea. It was summer and still over a hundred degrees, even though the sun would be going down soon. But a brief break was just the prescription to remind himself of all the reasons why kissing her neck was not the smartest move to make.

He walked out to the mailbox at the curb. Before reaching inside, he took a deep breath. She'd accepted his original dinner invitation just to get him off her back and now they were having a baby. Those were the facts. It was harder to quantify anything else. This compulsion to see her every night, to make sure she was okay, were actions firmly under the responsibility umbrella, but it didn't quite wash. Fortunately he didn't have to figure it out today.

He opened the door on her mailbox that looked like a miniature Quonset hut, then reached inside. There was quite a stack of envelopes, most of them official-looking and not of the junk mail variety. As he walked back to the front door, bright rays of light from the setting sun hit him full in the face until Cindy's house blocked it out. Sort of reminded him how she obstructed rational thought.

Inside, the coolness from the air conditioner felt good. He dropped her mail on the cedar chest coffee table, then joined her in the kitchen. She'd changed into white shorts and a black tank top. Her feet were bare and the sexy, domestic picture she made just cutting up lettuce and tomato made him want to swallow his tongue. Heat slammed through him as though his time-out to regroup had never happened.

“What can I do?” He hoped his tone didn't sound as pathetic as it felt. Guidance would definitely be in order, but it probably needed to come from a shrink.

She glanced over her shoulder and smiled. “The usual—

“Set the table,” he finished along with her.

Five minutes later they were sitting across from each other with taco shells, meat, beans, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes in containers between them. Nathan fixed one with everything, then wolfed it down, surprised at how hungry he was. Cindy did the same, but she ate at a more ladylike pace.

He needed to distract himself from watching her mouth. Food wasn't all he was hungry for, but it was all he'd let himself have.

“So, it's about time you gave me another shopping list,” he said. “There must be some things you need.”

She wiped her mouth with a napkin. “You really don't have to do my shopping, Nathan. I'm well past the first
trimester and the doctor says there's no reason to believe I'll have any more problems.”

“Good to know. And I intend to keep it that way.”

“By shopping for me?”

If only that's all it would take to ensure that the rest of her pregnancy was healthy. “That and carrying it all. You can't be too careful.”

Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Okay, burly boy. What if I told you there was a sale on canned vegetables and I bought a case?
And
carried it in the house without assistance?”

One of his eyebrows went up. “Burly boy?”

“That would be you.”

“I've been called science geek and math nerd, but never burly boy.”

She laughed, such a merry and bright sound that it lighted a dark place deep inside him and took away some of the shadows.

“I appreciate you helping out,” she said, “but it's really not necessary.”

“Maybe not.” But he remembered what Annie had said about not letting her physically exert herself. And that was before she'd had a problem. “Either make me a new list or I'll go by the old one.”

“No, please, anything but that.” Her expression was rueful. “I have enough paper towels to clean up a toxic waste dump. If I have to store more, there won't be any room for me.”

He barely held back the words on the tip of his tongue, which were to the effect that she should move back in with him. Instead he said, “I have one word.
List.
”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Okay. You win.”

“That works for me.”

When they'd both finished eating, he helped her put the
leftovers away and clean up the dishes. It was time for him to go and the shadows that had disappeared a little while ago were creeping back. He was trying to figure out how to put off leaving when she gave him a way.

“Would you like some coffee?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I would. But I'll make it. You go sit in the living room and put your feet up. That's an order.”

She must have been tired because there was no argument. Just a sassy salute. After all these weeks he knew his way around her tiny kitchen and fixed himself a cup of instant coffee, then joined her in the other room. Not only were her feet still on the floor, she was staring at the stack of mail and frowning.

He set down his mug on the cedar chest, then lowered himself to the sofa beside her. “I'm not used to having my orders disobeyed.”

“Hmm?” She glanced at him.

“Your feet aren't up.”

This time when she smiled there was sadness around the edges. “You sound like my dad.”

He preferred
burly boy.
“Why?”

“I was about nine when my mom was pregnant with my brother. So I remember a lot. My dad would make her sit down and then he rubbed her feet.” There was a suspicious brightness in her eyes when she looked at him.

“What's wrong, Cindy?”

“They'd be so disappointed in me.” She flicked the stack of mail, and it toppled to the floor on the other side of the chest. “My bills rival the national debt. And that's not what they would have wanted. I've made some really bad choices.”

Nathan was in the business of fixing things and badly wanted to now. But this wasn't a science-based problem with formulas and solutions. Mostly he couldn't stand to
see her upset. He didn't know how to fix what was wrong, but he had to try.

“Everyone has done something they'd like to take back.” For him it would be asking Felicia to marry him. A man who didn't believe in love had no business making promises he couldn't keep. “It's not your fault the guy conned you. And if your mother and father were here they'd tell you the same thing. It's a parent's duty to make sure their kids can function independently. Mine did an exemplary job on that score,” he said wryly. The rest of it was a dismal failure, but that wasn't pertinent to this conversation. “The point is that you didn't give up. You didn't ask for help. You simply picked up the pieces and moved on. You're putting your brother through college and working to pay your bills. It seems to me that your parents would be extraordinarily proud of you.”

“Thanks for that, Nathan,” she whispered.

“You're welcome.” He didn't usually make speeches and was disconcerted that he'd done it now. “Okay, moving on. Put your feet in my lap.”

“What?”

“Just do it. That's an order. I'm going to take care of you.”

Without another word, she swung her legs onto his thighs and leaned back against the arm of the love seat. He took one of her slender ankles in his hand and with the other he pressed a thumb into the arch of her foot.

“How does that feel?”

“Heavenly.”

The sound that came from her throat was somewhere between a moan and a groan, as if she were in the throes of passion. In a nanosecond, the blood drained from his head and raced south of his belt.

“Good.” He could only manage the single word and it
came out more rasp than anything else. The wanting was getting worse every day, proof that his character was in serious trouble.

“Now I know why my mom liked this so much.” When she met his gaze, her eyes were filled with tears again. “I w-wish they were here to see their grandchild—”

Cindy stopped, unable to get any more words past the lump in her throat. She hated the pregnancy hormones that made her so emotional. But she had a feeling this would have gotten to her even if she wasn't having a baby. This gesture reminded her of the loving relationship her parents had. The way her father had cared for her mother all through their marriage, right up until the day she'd died.

And that's when the tears went rolling down her cheeks and she put her hands over her face.

“What is it?” Nathan's deep voice was laced with concern.

“I'm pregnant,” she managed to say.

“Not a newsflash.” Now there was just a hint of humor in his tone. “Why are you crying? Although it makes no sense to me, don't women sometimes cry when they're happy? Is it possible this is one of those times?”

How could she tell him that he was the problem? That she wanted what her parents had and she wanted it from him. Whatever his hang-ups were, he was still a good man. He hadn't disappeared as expected; he'd been there from the moment she'd told him about the baby. How could he understand that it wasn't enough, would never be enough?

She brushed at the moisture on her cheeks and tried to smile with mixed results. “You got me. Happy tears.”

His expression was skeptical. “Really?”

“Yeah.” But another tear leaked out. “I think I n-need to be alone.”

She pulled her legs off his thighs and straightened away
from the sofa arm, turning beside him to put her feet on the floor. Before she could stand up, he put one arm behind her back and the other beneath her legs, then scooped her into his arms and onto his lap.

“Not so fast.”

“Please—I feel so silly.”

“And I hate to see you cry. So if there's anything I can do to fix it, I'm going to. Now talk to me.”

Through a shimmery blur of tears she looked at him, his face just inches from her own. Concern was etched in his eyes and there was tension in his lean jaw. The steady determination in his gaze was proof that he was dead serious about making it better. The utter sweetness of the gesture brought on a fresh wave of waterworks.

“Sorry. I just can't help it. I'm in hormone hell.”

When he gathered her into his arms, she buried her face against his neck.

“I can't fix hormones. That's chemistry. Your body's taking care of the baby.”

The words were a gentle, reassuring whisper as his breath stirred her hair. Shivers danced down her neck and put a hitch in her breathing. Body chemistry was going on, but suddenly this had nothing to do with the baby and everything to do with repeating the act that had created it in the first place.

When she lifted her head, their gazes collided and Cindy saw in his eyes a yearning that mirrored her own. It wasn't clear if he moved first or she did, but suddenly their mouths were locked together in a hungry fusing of mutual need.