Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (50 page)

Next week? That was when they’d scheduled the ultrasound, Anya recalled. Just what they needed, another form of pressure at a key moment. How typical of families—even from far away, they had a gift for meddling.

“Call her back and tell her she’s not welcome,” Jack snapped.

“You call her,” Rod said.

“I want her as far from Anya and me as possible.”

To the best of Anya’s knowledge, Jack had never openly rejected his mother before. “Are you sure?” she asked him. “I mean, she’s your mom, so of course I’ll leave it up to you.”

He gave her a nod of acknowledgment, then resumed glaring at his uncle. “Why can’t you grasp the fact that my mother doesn’t give a damn?”

“If she’s so indifferent, what’s the big deal if she stops by?” Rod asked with an attempt at his usual flippancy.

“The big deal is that I should have the right to break the news to her when and if I want to.” Jack’s hand tightened around his fork. “If we choose to put this baby up for adoption, there’s no reason for her to know. Ever.”

“You’re wrong.” Rod straightened, regrouping. “She does care, more than you think.”

A flicker of uncertainty pierced Jack’s fury. “She said that?”

“I heard it in her voice.”

Noting the conflict in Jack’s expression, Anya wished she were sitting close enough to touch his arm and offer silent comfort.
Stay out of it, you idiot,
she warned herself.

“I’ll talk to her,” Jack said tightly.

“And tell her not to come?” his uncle queried.

“And tell her whatever I damn please.” Jack stood up. “There’s ice cream in the freezer.”

“On my way.” Lucky hurried out, escaping the tension.

“I’ll help.” Melissa rose gracefully, and the others began clearing the table.

“Anya?” Jack swung toward her. “A moment alone?”

“Sure.” She’d hated saying no to him about the bird-watching last night. They’d had fun, peering into the twilight, listening to the chirps and trying to identify the various species. And tonight, he’d defended her to his uncle. As if they were in this together. Which, until the baby’s birth, she supposed they were.

Conscious of the others watching—despite their attempts to pretend otherwise—she kept her gaze straight ahead and her pace moderate as they climbed the stairs. Once on the second floor, they hurried to her room. The sunset cast a scarlet glow across the bed and bookcase. Anya switched on the lamp. “Shoot.”

Jack paced the floor.

Funny how a man’s presence changed everything, emphasizing the smallness of the room and filling the air with subtle allure that reminded Anya that she’d tossed her comforter over invitingly rumpled sheets.

Stop, now. That’s how you got into this mess.

He halted. “I apologize for my uncle’s behavior.”

She waved away the apology. “Not your fault.”

“Would you mind...” He broke off.

To her, the glitter in his eyes spoke of old wounds reopened—and old hopes springing to life. “Meeting your mom?” Anya guessed.

“Or even...” Jack hesitated again, uncharacteristically. Then he said, “If she does care, it shouldn’t be in an abstract sense. I need to be sure.”

She hazarded a guess. “You want to invite her to the ultrasound. That’s quite a switch.” Moments before, he’d been prepared to boot her all the way back to whatever third world country she was currently aiding.

“It hit me all of a sudden, but I didn’t want to mention it in front of my uncle,” Jack explained. “What do you think?”

Having his mother present might be like tossing a lighted match onto dried-out California underbrush during fire season. Yet it meant a lot to Jack, and thus far, he’d been willing to meet Anya halfway.

But if his mother
did
take a stand against her, what then? Though Mamie wasn’t likely to volunteer to help raise her granddaughter, considering she’d ducked out on her own son. And she’d have to possess incredible chutzpah to pressure another woman to take on the duties she herself had shirked.

And so far, Jack had respected Anya’s feelings. It was time to trust him.

With the sense of taking a dive off a cliff, Anya said, “Okay.”

He waited, as if expecting more. Then he noted, “I’m not even sure she’ll be able to come. I suppose it depends on her conference schedule.”

It would be inconvenient but not impossible to change the sonogram appointment. Anya saw no need to bring that up yet, though. “Whatever.”

Jack ran his hands over her shoulders, massaging them lightly. “Will I ever figure you out?”

“I hope not.” In her view, keeping him off-balance promoted equal power in the relationship. But right now, she was content to relax and enjoy the magic sensations his fingers inspired. “You could do more of that.”

“Happy to comply, ma’am,” he responded with a heart-stopping smile.

Anya leaned closer. His chest materialized beneath her cheek. “Mmm.”

Strong arms closed around her, and she nestled there. Would it really be so bad if, together, they...?

Stop right there.
She’d already taken a step in his direction, figuratively speaking, by agreeing to allow his mother to come to the ultrasound. That meant, she conceded, that if Mamie unexpectedly offered her son the nurturing he’d been denied all these years, Anya could hardly refuse to give him—them—the baby.

That might mean having to leave Safe Harbor afterward for her own emotional safety. Freedom could be a lonely place, but for now, they’d reached a welcome accord.

All the same, she ducked away before their embrace could lead to more.

Chapter Fourteen

On Saturday, Jack reported that Mamie had cheerfully agreed to attend next Thursday’s ultrasound, scheduled for 7:30 p.m. at Dr. Cavill-Hunter’s office. “She seemed upbeat about the whole situation,” Jack said as he set out the ingredients for his planned dinner of angel-hair pasta with wine and onions.

“She isn’t upset that Rod broke the news about the baby, rather than you?” Anya asked.

She felt a little guilty that Jack had spent more than he intended on these large meals, and was glad he’d decided to fix a low-cost entrée tonight. His explanation that the alcohol in the wine would evaporate during cooking hadn’t been necessary, but she appreciated it.

“I’m not sure it’s sunk in that she’s about to become a grandmother.” He placed the cutting board on the stove top to chop onions, turning on the fan to draw off eye-burning fumes.

“Every woman reacts differently, I guess.” Anya was slicing tomatoes on a second cutting board. She’d volunteered to assist, having discovered that conversations with Jack flowed more naturally when they worked side by side. Perhaps due to their shared experiences in the O.R., they moved easily around each other without colliding.

“What about
your
mother?” Jack scraped the onions into a large pot and set to dicing garlic cloves. “You’ve hardly mentioned her.”

With a start, Anya admitted she hadn’t thought about how her mother might react to the baby. Molly Meeks’s name suited her retiring personality. Even before arthritis had sidelined her, she’d been almost a background player in the household, relying first on Ruth to help raise her second and third children and then on Anya to supervise the triplets.

“Mom’s always been overshadowed by my grandma—my father’s mother,” she said. “Not that Grandma was underfoot. She lived around the corner from us and values her independence. But on important issues, her views tended to prevail.”

“She’s the one who’s turning eighty next month?”

“That’s her.” Anya hoped he’d refrain from inquiring about the gathering. It
was
awkward that she hadn’t responded yet. But Ruth had stopped tallying childcare requests on social media, and although that didn’t amount to an acknowledgment that Anya might not show up, it implied her sister might be facing reality.

Or preparing another line of attack. Anya sighed.

“If you’re tired, you should sit down.” Jack moved his cutting board to the counter. “I can finish the salad.”

“No, I just...”
Don’t want to discuss my family issues.
“You’re being wonderful,” she said.

He flashed a grin. “I am, aren’t I?”

The meal turned out to be another of his triumphs, though she couldn’t get the conversation about their mothers out of her head. She had enough issues from her own family. Was she prepared to take on his issues, too?

The next few days passed quickly. Mamie planned to arrive in Los Angeles on Wednesday for her conference. On Thursday, Rod was going to collect her from her hotel at 4:00 p.m. and bring her to the house so she could enjoy dinner with everyone and meet Anya prior to the sonogram.

But on Thursday morning, everything changed. A disgruntled Jack caught Anya in the hallway of the hospital.

“Can we reschedule the ultrasound?” It turned out his mom had to attend a press conference early that evening for her Haitian charity, he explained. “She apologized profusely and swears she can come Friday afternoon.”

“I’m not sure. It was hard to make arrangements for a weekday evening, let alone a Friday.” Because of Dr. Cavill-Hunter’s overnight shifts in labor and delivery, her office hours didn’t start until 6:00 p.m.

“Mamie can’t attend in the evening. Her flight’s at 7:30 p.m., and she has to be at the airport an hour and a half early.” As usual, Jack referred to his mother by her first name.

It struck Anya that Mamie would be missing tonight’s dinner, too, on which Jack had spent a small fortune. He’d bought steaks and was planning on making twice-baked potatoes stuffed with cheese. But that was less important than the sonogram.

“I don’t suppose my doctor
has
to be there,” Anya conceded. “And it will be easier to find a tech to work during the day.”

“Adrienne can review the results with us later.” His gaze locked onto Anya’s.

“Let me see what I can set up. I’m just sorry she’ll miss your delicious cooking.” Anya hoped he didn’t think she was criticizing his mother.

Jack shrugged. “Mamie has a tendency to play the drama queen. But it sounds like this is an important press conference. There are major potential donors in the L.A. area.”

“It’s a worthy cause,” Anya agreed, although she only vaguely recalled the nature of the project—something about providing security for Haitian women living in tent encampments. “We’ll figure out the ultrasound.”

That proved more difficult than expected. Dr. Tartikoff had scheduled a complex surgery for early Friday afternoon and was relying on Jack to assist. The sometimes crusty head of the fertility program, on learning of the circumstances, promised to free Jack by 3:30 p.m., but that was the best he could do.

Locating an ultrasound tech presented further problems. Zora had back-to-back assignments and another tech was out with the flu. It would be unfair to bump a patient who’d had her session planned weeks in advance.

“I’m sorry,” Zora told Anya over lunch. “I’m disappointed I’m going to miss out on meeting the famous Mamie Ryder, too.” Rod had been regaling the dinner table all week with tales of his sister’s colorful exploits around the world.

“I’ll fill you in,” Anya responded distractedly. Her main concern was that the ultrasound might not take place this week at all. She was trying not to dwell on the implications of meeting Jack’s mother.

“I’ll do it myself,” Jack said a short time later when she informed him she couldn’t find a tech. She’d spotted him in the busy corridor just outside the cafeteria. “Performing sonograms was part of my training.”

“Aren’t you a little rusty?” she asked.

He steered her out of the path of a gurney being pushed by a volunteer. “You mean like performing an operation with a rusty knife?”

“Ouch!”

Jack laughed. “I assure you, I’m competent. And it isn’t an invasive procedure, so I can’t very well cause harm.”

Anya thought of a plus. “Also, you get to show off for your mother.”

“She
is
proud of my accomplishments,” he assured her. “Mamie’s seen me operate, via remote camera. She found it fascinating.”

It was good to hear him speaking well of his mother. In fact, this past week, he’d spoken up during Rod’s tales, adding a few flattering details about Mamie. Squelching an uneasy sense that he and his mother might soon join forces against her, Anya said, “I’ll line up an examining room, then.”

“Thanks.” Jack traced a finger across her cheek.

She stepped back, surprised at the tender gesture given in full public view. “Have you forgotten how bad the gossips are around here?”

“You mean they’ll be shocked that two people having a baby together show signs of affection?” he teased.

She chuckled. “You never know.”

On Friday, despite Anya’s efforts to train her mind away from the upcoming procedure, she became increasingly nervous as 3:30 p.m. approached. She’d lined up a room and made sure ultrasound equipment would be available. And, she reminded herself, she already knew the baby’s gender. So what was the big deal?

Yet she dropped her purse twice in the nurses’ locker room and arrived at Dr. Cavill-Hunter’s office on the second floor of the medical building before recalling that the sonogram was to take place on the third floor where Jack shared quarters with Dr. Tartikoff.

It was 3:25 p.m. Afraid she might be keeping him and his mother waiting, Anya took the stairs up a floor rather than wait for the elevator. As she climbed, she noticed how tightly her jeans were fitting, a reminder she’d soon have to buy maternity clothes. By twelve weeks, some women were already ballooning. Anya had made a point of eating moderately, hoping to delay displaying her condition to the world as long as possible.

She wouldn’t be able to hide it much longer, though. Not that many people weren’t already aware of her situation anyway.

Anya put her shoulder to the heavy third-floor door. She’d barely wedged it open and was shimmying through when the phone rang in her pocket.

Another change of plans? She plucked it out.

Ruth.

Oh, great timing. Irritably, Anya sent the call to voice mail, but she was so nervous she must’ve tapped the wrong spot. “Anya?” came her sister’s voice. “Hello?”

If she cut off the call now, Ruth would take offense. And with good reason.

Anya put the phone to her ear. “I’m here. Listen, this is a bad time.”

“I’d hoped you’d be off work by now.”

She
was
off work, but Anya couldn’t explain to her sister what she was really doing. “Uh, I am. But there’s a meeting.”

“You haven’t responded about the birthday party.” Barely pausing for breath, Ruth pressed on, “Everyone’s counting on you. Grandma would be heartbroken if you aren’t here. You’re her favorite grandchild.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Including cousins, the third-generation count reached well into the double digits.

“It’s obvious to everyone but you.” Ruth must have prepared to go on this offensive before she placed the call. “You’ll be arriving a few days early, as we agreed, right?”

“We didn’t agree.” Tensely, Anya wondered if her voice carried into the nearby offices. “I’m not in a place where I can talk.”

“Are you coming or not?”

She nearly responded in the negative. But why should she let Ruth’s bossiness prevent her from honoring her grandmother? She’d learned over the past few weeks that her duck-and-run philosophy could cheat her out of some very happy moments. Instead, she decided to address the real problem. “I’m not running a day care center. People can watch their own children.”

“Selfish as always!” Her sister’s ragged voice rose to a shrill note. She sounded tired and resentful—and was aiming it all at Anya. “Everyone’s pitching in, although most of the work falls on me, as usual.”

“You live there,” Anya pointed out. “Besides—”

“It isn’t my fault you chose to move to California,” Ruth went on. “I’ve got four kids and I’m carrying another.”

“Somebody else can take up the slack.” Although Ruth might be the oldest of the cousins, that shouldn’t obligate her to run every family gathering.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” her sister snapped. “I’m delegating. And your job is supervising the children.”

“I appreciate how hard you’re working.” Guiltily, Anya conceded that she hadn’t given her sister enough credit for bringing everyone together. “It isn’t fair for everyone to assume you’ll organize the whole party. But parents can make their own babysitting arrangements. I wouldn’t expect someone else to take care of my child, if I had one.”

“But you don’t. You’re too busy living it up, being single and hanging out at the beach.” Now, where had Ruth picked up that idea? “You’re letting everyone down—as always.”

Anya badly wanted out of this conversation. Not to mention that her watch was edging past 3:30 p.m. “We each make our own choices.”

“If that’s how you feel, just stay home!” The call went dead.

Ruth had hung up on her? Despite the temptation to call back, Anya turned off her phone. Discussion tabled until whenever. But she was glad she’d stood up for herself.

She let herself into the waiting room. Several women looked up from their magazines. At the receptionist station, she spotted nurse Ned Norwalk.

“Come on in.” He indicated the interior door.

A patient frowned in her direction. Because Anya had changed out of her uniform, the woman might have assumed she was jumping the line to see the doctor.

Must be my day to tick people off.

Anya hurried to the designated room. Inside, she found Jack alone with the portable ultrasound equipment plugged in and ready for action.

His white coat was much more flattering than operating scrubs, and no ugly cap covered his thick dark hair. Half his patients probably had crushes on him, Anya reflected. Well, so had she, until...

Actually, she still did. But that was irrelevant.

“I’d have been here sooner, but my sister called at the worst possible moment.” She kicked off her shoes.

“I can’t wait to hear all about it.” Jack raised an eyebrow. “Would you like me to leave the room while you change?”

That seemed silly, Anya thought as she picked up the hospital gown set out for her. “Just turn your back.”

“As my lady wishes.”

After he swung to face the door, she shed her clothes and put on the gown. “Where’s your mom?”

“Rod called. They’ll be here any minute.”

That raised another potential problem. “About your uncle...”

Jack squared his shoulders. “You’d rather he wasn’t here.”

“Right.”

“I don’t like the way he treats you either. You don’t want him here, so he won’t be.”

Anya tied the gown in front, a fruitless task because it gaped open. Who had designed these things, a Peeping Tom?

“Ready.” She sat on the edge of the examining table.

Jack came alongside her. From this position, he towered over her, yet the gentleness of his expression soothed her. Stretching out, Anya quivered at the realization that he was about to touch her bare abdomen and run his hands over her.

As a doctor. But also as a father.

“We should start. My mother has a tight timetable.” He picked up the scanning paddle, which reminded Anya of a computer mouse. “I’m out of practice, so it may take me a while to find the right angle.”

She leaned back, her head slightly elevated by the table. “You can take pictures, too, right?”

“Yes! Don’t let me forget. First baby pictures.” Gently, Jack spread gel on her stomach. “It’s a little chilly. Sorry.”

Anya scarcely noticed. She was too keenly aware of his large hand stroking the gel across her abdomen. “No problem.”

“At this point, the tech would normally explain that the paddle emits very high frequency sound waves, above the range of human hearing,” he said. “That’s where we get the word
sound
in ultrasound.”