Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (42 page)

She kept hoping her father and siblings would finally grasp why she’d left and why she had to stay away. It hurt that they didn’t.

Yes, she was better off leaving her family out of this pregnancy and sticking with her new friends.

“Later today I’d like us to draft some ground rules,” Karen said, breaking into Anya’s thoughts. “Establishing guidelines should make this house-sharing experience run smoother.”

“What kind of ground rules?” Lucky asked.

“All sorts of things. For instance, how we’ll handle cooking—whether we do our own or if we each cook for a week on and then have a month off.” Melissa’s smooth reply indicated she’d prepared for this discussion. Although she was a decade younger than Karen, they’d become close friends.

“We should set a schedule for cleaning, too, so no one gets stuck with more than their fair share,” Karen said. “What other issues concern you guys?”

“How we divide up community expenses,” Lucky said.

“And what temperature we keep the thermostat.” Zora always seemed to be cold, even in summer.

“Privacy,” Anya said.

“Entertaining—who, when, how loud and how many,” Melissa put in.

“Great!” Karen responded. “We’ll hold a roundtable meeting as soon as you guys unload your truck.”

Anya wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. Her experience with group discussions in her family had been,
Let Anya do it.
“If there’s conflict, how do we decide?” she asked.

“We vote on it,” Karen replied.

That sounded ominous to Anya. “You mean, the majority always rules?”

Her tension must have been evident to Zora, who asked, “What if there’s a chore somebody really hates?”

From across the table, Lucky grimaced. “Opting out of bathroom duty, are you?”

Zora blinked. “What?”

“She was asking because of me,” Anya told him. “My family tended to dump the nasty stuff on me.”

“Nobody gets dumped on.” Karen’s narrowed eyes sent Lucky a back-off message.
“Nobody.”

Zora and Anya both folded their arms and added their stares to Karen’s.

“Message received.” Lucky scooted away from the table. “Let’s get to work.”

All five of them carried in furniture and other possessions. By evening, Anya was worn out but determined not to show it, especially to Zora. Her hovering was already making Lucky curious.

Through her weariness, Anya struggled to concentrate as, over a dinner of pizza and salad, they put together a cleaning schedule. Regarding kitchen duty, Karen proposed they take turns as chef, each planning meals, shopping and cooking for a week.

“It’s a lot of work, but then we get a month’s break,” she said. “Also, the cook doesn’t have to clean up.”

“Is it okay for the cook to buy takeout?” Lucky asked.

“As long as it’s not pizza every night,” Karen said. “Okay, everyone?” Heads bobbed.

“It’s important that we choose healthy foods,” Melissa qualified. “Plenty of fruits and vegetables, organic if possible.”

“Right. Actually, I’d prefer that we eat vegetarian.” Lucky reached for his third slice of olive-and-pineapple pizza.

“That could get boring,” Zora said.

“You’d be surprised how many types of cheese there are,” he told her. “And I’m willing to include fish.”

Anya stirred from her near-stupor. “No soft cheeses and no sushi.” Catching the curious looks from around the table, she wished she could recall her words. Too late.

“Surely you aren’t...?” Melissa broke off.

“She isn’t what?” Lucky asked.

“That’s what they tell pregnant women to avoid,” Karen filled in.

So much for keeping my secret.
“Huh,” Anya said.

Her three tormentors turned to Zora, who sent a pleading glance at Anya. Which only had the effect of confirming their suspicion.

“This is an interesting development,” Lucky remarked.

“And nobody’s business.” That wasn’t precisely true, though, Anya supposed, because her pregnancy was likely to affect everyone. “It was an accident and I’m giving it up for adoption once the father signs the waiver.”

“And who is—” Lucky broke off as, from both sides, Melissa and Karen kicked him. “Ouch.”

“That’s wonderful of you, to carry the baby for someone else,” Karen said. “So many couples are desperate to have children. We wish our fertility program could help them all, but it can’t.”

“You shouldn’t do any cleaning duties that involve chemicals,” Melissa insisted.

“Everything’s composed of chemicals.” Anya had no intention of shirking her fair share of the responsibilities. “But we don’t use anything toxic, do we?”

“If we do, I’ll handle it,” Lucky said. “And at the risk of getting kicked again, I think the father should pitch in. Which brings up the question of who that might be...”

Zora, who rarely flared at him on her own behalf, leaped into action for Anya’s sake. “Give it a rest! If Anya wants to reveal the father’s identity, that’s her decision.”

With a duck of his head, Lucky yielded the point but not happily.

“To return to our topic, we definitely shouldn’t use toxic chemicals. If I get pregnant...” Melissa exchanged glances with Karen.

“Oh, now, what’s this?” Lucky appeared torn between curiosity and disapproval. What right did he have to be so judgmental? Anya wondered. “I hadn’t heard mention of a boyfriend.”

“I’ve been considering artificial insemination,” Melissa hurried on before he could raise further questions. “Anyway, until then, I’m willing to do extra for Anya’s sake.”

Zora and Karen spoke almost in unison. “Me, too.”

Anya raised her hands. “Stop. This isn’t your problem.”

“It isn’t a problem at all,” Karen told her. “It’s a privilege.”

Tears pricked Anya’s eyes. “Thank you.” But it wasn’t only their kindness that affected her. It was the longing to see the same tender expression on the one face that wasn’t here.

She had to tell him about the pregnancy. But if Jack reacted with this kind of loving concern and urged her to keep the baby, what if she wasn’t able to stand against him? On the other hand, if she saw condemnation in his face, she’d be so angry she might say something she’d regret.

It was all too much, and right now, Anya’s eyes threatened to drift shut.

“You’re drooping,” Lucky said. “You should rest.”

“She should choose for herself when to rest,” Zora shot back.

“You ladies are tough customers.” Rising, Lucky collected their paper plates. After today, they’d agreed to use ceramic dishes for the sake of the environment, but tonight, everyone was too tired to wash. “I’d better watch my step.”

Speaking of that, his foot was dangerously near the African violet, which Anya had forgotten until now. Guiltily, she bent down and snatched Paula to safety. “I’ll take this upstairs.”

“I’ll come with you.” Zora stood.

Lucky regarded her dubiously. “It takes two people to carry a tiny little plant?”

“Huh,” said Anya.

Lucky grinned. “I think that means I should butt out. By the way, I forgot to say congratulations.”

“Thanks,” she muttered, making her way around the table.

“I mean it.” He spoke in earnest. “Having a baby grow inside you is amazing. It’s an experience we guys miss out on.”

“If he says that when you go into labor, I’ll smack him for you,” Zora said.

“No picking on the lone male in the household,” he countered. “You women are touchy.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” Melissa said.

Karen collected the leftover pizza. “There are five leftover slices, one for each of us. We can all count. If any one of us comes up short, the thief will be sniffed out, drawn and quartered.”

Everyone nodded. Living together might actually be fun, Anya thought as she carried Paula upstairs.

When she entered her cozy corner room, her gaze went to the window, which had a splendid view of the marsh and farther out to the ocean. The winter sunset sent a pale gold sheen over the misty marshland, and as she peered out, a pelican swooped low.

Zora followed her gaze. “Looks like that pelican caught something.”

“Judging by the lumps in his pouch, he’s collected a lot of somethings.” Anya cradled the plant as if to protect it from the distant pelican. “I think she’ll be happy on this little table. It catches a lot of light.” She positioned the plant, moving aside her e-book reader.

“Getting back to Jack...” Zora began.

“Must we?”

Her friend persevered. “You mentioned having him sign a waiver. What if he refuses to let you give up the baby?”

Anya squared her shoulders. “He can’t force me to raise a child, and I doubt he’s prepared to be a single father. What other choice is there?”

“Well, remember to stand your ground.” Plopping onto the cushioned window seat, Zora slid off her shoes. “Men talk a good story, and then they leave you to pick up the pieces.”

“Jack’s not like that.” She hadn’t meant to spring to his defense, but she
did
respect Jack’s integrity.

“You think so?” Zora rubbed one foot. “He has quite a reputation as a ladies’ man.”

Although Anya had heard that, in her observation it was more a case of women flirting and Jack merely being polite in return. With a pang, she remembered that real estate agent, Danica, hanging on his arm and sauntering up to her apartment with him. “Maybe he deserves it and maybe he doesn’t.”

“How’d it happen?”

No sense dodging again. She’d have to fill in the details eventually. “As you guessed, it was after he drove me home New Year’s Eve.”

“That’s it?” Zora’s eyes widened.

What was she expecting, a tale of seduction and intrigue? “This isn’t a complicated story.”

“I mean, you only did it once?” her friend clarified.

“It happens. Not everybody suffers from infertility,” Anya pointed out.

Zora took a different tack. “New Year’s Eve—he took advantage of you when you were drunk.”

“I only had two drinks, and the attraction was mutual. Plus, I assured him I was on the Pill, which was true.” Anya explained about the St. John’s wort. “So I’m at least as much to blame as he is.”

“Taking a silly herb doesn’t make it your fault,” Zora said loyally.

“It’s not his fault either.” Anya preferred to focus on her most pressing problem, though. “I dread telling him.”

“You think he’ll get mad?”

That reaction might fit Zora’s soon-to-be ex-husband but not Jack. “Exactly the opposite. He loves kids with a passion.” Anya paced around the room, too agitated to stand still. “What if in a weak moment I back down? I have to stand strong on adoption. One chink in my armor and I’d be boxed into a responsibility I’m not ready for.”

Zora began massaging her other foot. “You should let Edmond give him the waiver.”

“Who’s Edmond?”

“My lawyer,” Zora said. “Talk to him. He could present the whole thing to Jack from a guy’s perspective.”

Zora was right: a man could explain in practical terms what all this meant. And having the lawyer handle it reduced the risk of Anya caving in.

All the same, she had doubts. Breaking such important news via a third party might infuriate Jack.

“Edmond’s not some old codger who’ll treat me like a fallen woman, is he?”

“No, he’s young and good-looking.” Her friend smiled. “And he’s Melissa’s ex-husband. But she still recommends him as an attorney. And since he doesn’t want kids himself, you should have his sympathy.”

In view of Melissa’s powerful desire for children, Anya understood why they were divorced. Still, he must be a skilled lawyer if she
and
Zora spoke well of him, and Anya would need an attorney to handle the adoption anyway. Might as well start now. “I’ll call him tomorrow for an appointment.”

“Great.” Zora slid her feet into her shoes. “Go for it.”

“I will.” With that weight off her mind, Anya opened one of the boxes that lined the walls and set to work unpacking.

Chapter Six

Friday was a long day for Jack. He’d arrived early for surgery, then took a break for a late lunch and had barely retreated to an on-call room for a nap when he was summoned to Labor and Delivery. With an unexpectedly large number of women laboring at once, all hands were needed.

After delivering five babies, he arrived late for his patient appointments at his shared third-floor office suite and had to remind himself to slow down and give each woman the attention she deserved. But when his last scheduled patient of the day failed to arrive, relief washed through him. He phoned Rod to ask for a ride; his uncle’s aging car was in the shop yet again and Rod was borrowing Jack’s car.

Jack thought of the less-than-exciting weekend ahead. Patient appointments on Saturday followed by an open calendar. Well, Danica
had
invited him to join her and a group of friends for a movie Saturday night, which might be a good way to meet new people. However, it would be unfair to encourage Danica’s interest while Anya’s dark, skeptical eyes haunted Jack’s dreams.

He’d kept his word about leaving Anya alone. When they saw each other in the O.R., she acted politely distant, and so did he.

He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep that up, though. He’d noticed she’d gone pale several times during surgery. She’d always rallied and performed her duties flawlessly, but it worried him. When he’d asked her about it between surgeries, she’d said she’d stayed up late yakking with her new housemates.

They must be having a great time, Jack thought with a touch of bitterness. Certainly he didn’t wish for her to be unhappy. Well, maybe a little unhappy. He wanted her to miss him and be keenly aware that he was honoring their agreement to remain at arm’s length.

He was frustrated and more than a little disappointed that she didn’t seem to feel either of those things.

Rod poked his head in the staff entrance to the suite. “Ready?”

“More than.” Jack gave a farewell nod to the nurse.

Ned Norwalk, RN, a blond fellow noted for his surfing prowess, glanced up anxiously from the phone. “Dr. Ryder? I’m glad you haven’t left. Your patient was waiting in the wrong office. She’s on her way up from the second floor now.”

Rod rolled his eyes.

“How did that happen?” Jack asked.

The nurse set down the receiver. “Apparently she got confused between you and Zack Sargent. Then she forgot to check in, so they didn’t realize they had our patient in their waiting room.”

“Yes, Ryder and Sargent sound exactly alike, don’t they?” Jack grumbled.

“It’s more the Zack and Jack part,” said his uncle. “Rhymes with Frick and Frack. Did you know they were a team of comic Swiss ice skaters?”

Jack ignored his uncle’s riff. “You’ll wait for me, right?”

Rod waggled his eyebrows. “Sure. I have some great new apps on my cell.”

“Now you’re playing games?” His uncle used to scorn that sort of activity.

“Just the ones for preteens.” Rod hadn’t given up hope of renewing contact with his daughters, although they’d heard nothing from Tiffany in the week since her surprise visit.

When Rod had called Helen, she’d declined to nag or pry information out of her granddaughter. “Give Tiffany a little credit. She and Amber will figure something out.”

After having his hopes raised, Rod wasn’t about to back off completely. Instead, he was apparently channeling his energies into getting up to speed on the world of preteens.

“Have fun,” Jack told him.

“I’ll be in the waiting room.” He sauntered off.

The patient arrived. While Ned prepped her, Jack performed breathing exercises to calm his annoyance at her delayed arrival. Every patient deserved his best.

He studied her medical records. In her early sixties, the woman had been in excellent condition during her recent annual checkup, aside from normal symptoms of menopause. She’d declined to take hormones because of concerns about cancer risks.

In the examining room, he found a trim, alert woman, her champagne-blond hair carefully styled. “It’s my hot flashes,” she told him. “They’ve started keeping me awake at night, and I practically have to carry a fan around with me. Isn’t there anything you can recommend other than hormones?”

“Let’s talk about dietary changes.” Jack mentioned avoiding caffeine, spicy foods and alcohol, as well as stress, hot showers and hot tubs, and intense exercise. As they talked, he noted that she showed no confusion, so perhaps the office mix-up had been a simple mistake rather than a sign of the brain fog sometimes referred to as mentalpause.

“You might try soy products,” he added. “Some women find them helpful.”

“One of my friends recommended an herb.” She consulted her notebook. “Black cohosh?”

“It has been associated with cases of liver damage, so I don’t recommend it.” To present more options, Jack added, “There are no studies that prove acupuncture helps, but some women like it. And on the plus side, it probably can’t do any harm.”

She jotted down his recommendations. “Okay. I think I’ll start by cutting out the spicy Indian and Chinese food.”

“You eat those a lot?”

“Three or four times a week.”

Hoping that would help, Jack said goodbye to the woman and returned to the waiting room, empty save for his uncle. “Now you understand why I chose anesthesiology,” Rod said, sticking his phone in his pocket. “Regular hours and limited patient contact.”

“But you miss the highs,” Jack pointed out. Performing surgery and delivering babies provided a thrill that never faded. He’d also learned that simple discussions, such as the one he’d just had with his patient, could result in major quality-of-life improvements.

Hot curries and Chinese food three to four times a week? He suspected that might give
him
hot flashes.

“Highs tend to be followed by lows,” his uncle advised.

“It’s worth it.”

“Not to me.”

The outer door opened. No other doctors were on duty at this hour, so somebody must be lost, Jack thought, an impression reinforced when a man in a tailored suit entered. In his early thirties, he might be a pharmaceutical rep, promoting his company’s products. “Can I help you?”

“Is one of you Dr. Jack Ryder?” The fellow pushed up his glasses.

“Are you a process server?” Rod demanded. He’d been hit with a ridiculous number of summonses during his legal battles with Portia.

The man blinked. “Not exactly.”

That wasn’t promising. Might as well get it over with. “I’m Jack Ryder.”

The man extended his hand. “Edmond Everhart, family attorney.”

Reluctantly, Jack shook it. “What’s this about?”

The man glanced at Rod. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

Rod tipped back his fedora. “I’m his uncle and I’m staying.”

Jack appreciated the support. “What’s this about?” he repeated.

A thin line forming on his forehead, Everhart plucked a sheet of paper from his briefcase. “My client asked me to give this to you to sign.”

That sounded ominous. “Someone’s suing me?”

“No.” The man’s frown deepened. “She didn’t discuss this with you?”

“Who?” Jack asked impatiently. “Discuss what?”

“Miss Meeks,” the fellow clarified, casting a glance toward the unoccupied reception desk. “Do you have a private office? This is a very personal matter.”

Rod, who had little tolerance for dithering, snatched the paper from Edmond’s hand and read the heading aloud. “Waiver of parental rights.” He studied Jack askance. “Do you know anything about this?”

Unbelievable.
“She’s pregnant? And she breaks the news with a waiver?” Taking the document, Jack confirmed that it was, indeed, a form to sign away his parental rights. “Is this how the matter is customarily handled?”

The lawyer shook his head. “No. I had the impression you were already informed.”

“Obviously not.” Jack stood there stiffly, fitting the pieces together. Anya’s upset stomach last Sunday and her pallor during surgery—now he understood the cause. But if she was carrying his baby, why push him away? And why send a stranger with this odd request? “I don’t understand why she wants me to sign this.”

“Miss Meeks has requested I arrange an adoption for her child-to-be.” Edmond spoke with a touch of embarrassment, and no wonder. Anya had put him in an awkward position. “When she requested I deliver this form, I assumed you’d agreed to sign it.”

It wasn’t like Anya to lie. However, her tendency to speak tersely meant that her words might easily be taken the wrong way, especially if she wanted them to be.

While Jack was considering that, Rod filled the silence. “I’m surprised a lawyer would bring this in person. Isn’t that what process servers are for?”

Edmond chose his words carefully. “Some of my clients seem vulnerable. I like to be sure matters are handled with tact.”

Vulnerable—yes, that fit Anya. It was hardly an excuse, though. “She’s been pretty damn tactless, if you ask me,” he muttered.

“No kidding,” Rod seconded. “It’s harsh, sending a lawyer to inform my nephew that he’s going to be a father. Then there’s my own trauma in learning, without preamble, that I’m about to be a great-uncle. Don’t I have any rights?”

“I’m afraid not.” Edmond didn’t crack a smile at the absurd question. To Jack, he said, “Miss Meeks strikes me as a reticent person. Perhaps she finds you intimidating.”

“I don’t see why. But she
has
been avoiding me.” For the sake of accuracy, Jack amended that to, “Outside work. She’s a scrub nurse—a surgical nurse.”

A smile touched the attorney’s face. “I know what a scrub nurse is. My ex-wife works in the medical field.” He cleared his throat. “I recommend that you and Miss Meeks review this matter face-to-face. I can mediate if you like.”

“Are you sure that you
are
the father?” Rod asked Jack. To Edmond, he said, “I had a situation where I supported my children for years before discovering I wasn’t their genetic father. And then—well, no sense getting into
that
mess.”

Anya had claimed to be on the Pill, Jack recalled. Not that it was infallible and not that he would blame her for a pregnancy that resulted from their mutual involvement, regardless of what contraception she did or didn’t use.

But if he signed that document without a DNA test and some other fellow was the real father, it would be a mess. Although Jack doubted there was another man, Anya
had
been evasive lately. “Let’s conduct a DNA test before we proceed, just to confirm.”

The attorney took this in coolly. “I’m not the doctor here, but since the baby hasn’t been born yet, doesn’t that require an invasive procedure?”

“Not anymore,” Rod said. “Just snip, snip, snip.”

“Excuse me?”

With a quelling glare at his uncle, Jack explained, “He means it’s no longer necessary to perform an amniocentesis or chorionic villus sampling on a pregnant woman.” Both procedures required inserting a needle into the mother and carried a small risk of miscarriage, infection or amniotic fluid leakage. “An SNP microarray procedure can be done with a simple blood test on the mother as early as the ninth week. Hence, the term
snipping.
”

“What’s SNP stand for, exactly?” Edmond asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Rod said.

“Humor me.”

“Single nucleotide polymorphism,” Jack answered.

“I see.” Refocusing, the attorney went on, “I suppose a DNA test isn’t too much to ask, then.”

Anya might not agree, Jack supposed. Well, she’d decided to give up their baby without informing him, and he had a stake in this, too. Okay, she
had
informed him via Edmond, but he suspected that was only due to a legal requirement. And if there was even the smallest chance this might not be his baby, he couldn’t in good conscience sign those papers.

“Can we hire you to serve her with a demand for a DNA test?” Rod asked.

“You’ll have to find another attorney.” Edmond spread his hands apologetically. “I can’t represent you both.”

“But you can mediate for us both?” Jack challenged.

“I would recommend you bring your own attorney to any negotiations. Or a quiet conversation might be appropriate, depending on your relationship with Miss Meeks.” The lawyer tilted his head sympathetically. “I’ll admit, if I were you, I’d be mad about the way this information was presented, too.”

Information? That was a rather impersonal way to refer to the stunning news that Jack was going to be a father. But that was probably typical lawyer-speak.

“Try royally ticked off,” Rod responded. “I’d like to tell Miss Meeks precisely what I think of her so-called reticence.”

“Excuse me.” From his full height, Jack peered down a few inches at his uncle. “Whose baby is this?”

“Family’s family.” Rod stood his ground.

“Leave Anya alone. Got it?” Jack might be furious with her, but he’d tolerate no interference. To the attorney, he said, “Thanks for stopping by.”

“Sorry the news came as a surprise.” As they shook hands, Edmond studied him with concern. “May I make a personal observation?”

“Knock yourself out.”

“People don’t always act rationally when it comes to having children,” Edmond said. “I recommend communicating, listening and weighing all aspects before choosing a course of action.”

“Duly noted,” Jack said.

“Have a good evening.” With a nod to his uncle, who didn’t bother to extend a hand, Edmond exited.

Belatedly, it occurred to Jack that Ned might have overheard the discussion. However, a check of the suite showed that the nurse had departed. Also, health care workers were accustomed to keeping anything they learned at the office strictly confidential. He hoped that applied to private conversations of physicians as well as patients.

As Jack turned off the lights and locked up, his brain raced. Anya was pregnant. She was carrying a child, their child. Didn’t she understand how much this mattered to him?

It would be unfair to equate her conduct with his former aunt’s duplicity. But he also had the dubious example set by his mother, who viewed the world strictly in terms of herself and her selfish wishes, despite her devotion to charity work.