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His Texas Christmas Bride
Nancy Robards Thompson


TWINS UNDER HIS TREEJoin Becca Flannigan and Nick Ciotti as they promise to love, honor, and cherish each other in front of their family and friends…and her baby bump! The blushing bride-to-be is carrying double duty – twins – from one passionate night with a mysterious bad boy. When Becca lands in the hospital, who should treat her but Nick? He's the new doc in town, but his bedside manner is all too familiar…Becca and Nick begin to bond, but can Dr. Delicious leave his painful past behind him to create a family of his own? Add in Becca’s worries about her own future, and you’ve got one apprehensive engagement! With a little Christmas magic for the bride and groom, this may be the happiest-ever-after in Celebration!









“Twins?”


Becca’s voice cracked. “I’d just gotten used to the idea of one child. And now there are two babies. The rules keep changing on me here. Or should I say the reality keeps changing. And multiplying.”

Nick smiled at her. The smile reached his eyes, making them crinkle at the edges. Ooh, those incredible hypnotizing brown eyes that looked darker and more soulful than ever right now.

“Obviously I’m no expert, but I hear change is par for the course with children. Just when you think you have it all figured out, everything changes.”

He shrugged.

“For someone who claims to know nothing about children, you sound pretty wise. But are you sure you’re ready to do this?”

What a dumb question. They didn’t really have any choice now. Or at least she didn’t. She was still bracing herself, preparing for the moment that he changed his mind. And if learning that there was not one but two babies didn’t send him running … She couldn’t quite let down her guard and let herself go there yet.

* * *

Celebrations Inc.: Let’s get this party started!


His Texas

Christmas Bride

Nancy Robards Thompson






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


National bestselling author NANCY ROBARDS THOMPSON holds a degree in journalism. She worked as a newspaper reporter until she realized reporting “just the facts” bored her silly. Much more content to report to her muse, Nancy loves writing women’s fiction and romance full-time. Critics have deemed her work “funny, smart and observant.” She resides in Florida with her husband and daughter. You can reach her at www.nancyrobardsthompson.com (http://www.nancyrobardsthompson.com) and facebook.com/nancyrobardsthompsonbooks (http://facebook.com/nancyrobardsthompsonbooks).


This book is dedicated to Cindy Rutledge and Renee Halverson. You make writing so much fun!


Contents

Cover (#uaa780b9d-d70d-507a-a42d-8001d6796a3a)

Introduction (#uce593273-c296-58bc-a6e1-09a46f70b146)

Title Page (#ue6ddc47b-c202-5021-9543-b947aa91da9f)

About the Author (#ua46b86ad-f3a3-529f-a632-a9282cd70573)

Dedication (#u41a62761-1a75-5c64-a26e-0c7d2e5fc222)

Chapter One (#u0f526d5d-b7b2-5802-95f6-f19c2e72b4d9)

Chapter Two (#u4259678e-b8e7-5683-b015-1e60ce3188db)

Chapter Three (#u75ecaddd-cf93-5fe0-aafd-6aaf4cc8da9a)

Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


Chapter One (#ulink_d8ec4609-a56c-59f5-a4d1-02b9a531b6dc)

Becca Flannigan wasn’t a gambler. For as far back as she could remember, she usually leaned toward the tried and true. She’d choose dependable, low-risk options over games of chance any day.

That’s why it was particularly baffling when she discovered peace and the meaning of unconditional love with the simple flip of a coin.

Figuratively, of course. But she’d heard it said when you’re uncertain about something, you should flip a coin. Even before the result turns up, you’ll know what you want.

It was true.

The trip to Celebration Memorial Hospital’s emergency room had been Becca Flannigan’s bright, shiny quarter spinning in the air.

As she lay on the emergency room bed, one hand curled into the sheet and the other splayed protectively over her belly, she knew exactly what she wanted: she wanted—no, she needed—her unborn baby to be safe and healthy and unharmed by the bout of food poisoning that had landed her here in the hospital.

So, this was unconditional love, Becca thought as she tried to make sense of the foreign emotions that had commandeered her heart.

She’d never known a conviction like the one that had rooted itself deep in her soul; a certainty that she would die for the little being growing inside of her. But in this case, she couldn’t die, because now there was something so much more important than herself to live for.

A few hours ago, the stabbing pain from the food poisoning had been so bad that death might have seemed preferable. But the terrifying realization that being this sick might cause her to lose the baby transcended the discomfort and became all consuming.

At barely three months pregnant, she hadn’t been sure how she felt about her situation. Single and alone, she’d called it a predicament, a dilemma, a mess, a pickle—a gamble she’d taken and lost. She’d called it all those things, but she hadn’t called it love until she’d faced the very real possibility of losing her child.

Here, under the harsh lights of the ER, something had cracked open inside her, and her previously muddied feelings had spilled away and everything important had crystallized.

Despite the fact that she didn’t know how to find her child’s father. She hadn’t told her parents. Kate Thayer, her boss and best friend, was the only one who knew. The only reason Kate knew was because she’d been there with her in the ER when Becca had told the doctor.

Now the only thing that mattered was that the child growing inside her was safe and healthy.

This child was her everything.

At twelve weeks, she wasn’t showing yet—although her body had started changing, a subtle transformation, adapting itself for the nine-month journey. She was thicker and her clothes fit snugly. People probably thought she’d gained weight. Just last week, her mother had made a snide comment about Becca spending too much time with Ben & Jerry’s. Little did she know.

As Becca lay there with IV tubes in her arm and various machines beeping and humming, a restrained orchestration to accompany the chorus of emergency room sounds and voices on the other side of the cubicle curtain, she took back every negative or uncertain thought that had ever crossed her mind about this unplanned pregnancy.

She was single and only twenty-five years old. A baby hadn’t been part of her plan at this juncture. They’d used protection that night. She wasn’t supposed to take away a living, growing souvenir.

* * *

But now, faced with the possibility of losing her child, everything was suddenly different. If she lost this baby, this new capacity to love would surely die right along with it. Becca closed her eyes against the thought.

It wasn’t going to happen. She wouldn’t let it happen.

“How are you feeling, hon?” Becca opened her eyes to see Kate standing at the opening in the privacy curtain. Kate had driven Becca to the emergency room as soon as the nausea and pain had started.

The onset had hit Becca like an iron fist. One moment she was fine, walking from her desk to Kate’s office with the mail, just as she did every single day, and the next thing she knew, she was doubled over in pain. Sensing something, or maybe Kate had heard Becca whimper, Kate had insisted on taking her to the hospital. “I got you some ice chips,” Kate said. “I tried for water, but this was the best I could do. The nurse said she wants to make sure you can handle ice before she lets you have the hard stuff. They’re pretty busy out there, and they’re getting ready for a staff change. She said she’ll try to pop in before she clocks out, but if she can’t, she said the doctor who’s coming on duty will be in to see you.”

Becca did her best to smile as she accepted the white foam cup from Kate’s outstretched hand. She felt like a wrung-out dishrag, but she was stable and the baby was okay.

Now she just wanted to go home.

“Thank you,” Becca said, trying to steady her thin, shaky voice.

“I’d feed them to you, but—” Kate crinkled her nose as she held up her hands, motioning around with one “—it’s a hospital and I haven’t washed my hands. Plus, you’d probably bite me if I tried.”

She smiled her sweet Kate smile. Becca did her best to smile back.

“Feeding me would be going above and beyond. I can handle it, thank you.”

As Kate sat down, Becca lifted a piece of ice to her mouth, letting it linger on her parched lips. It melted on contact, leaving behind a cool, clean moisture. As she licked the droplets of water, Becca thought it was possibly the freshest, most delicious thing she’d ever tasted in her life. She placed another chip on her tongue. Surely this was what they meant when they’d said nectar of the gods.

Whoever they were. The ones who imparted such great wisdom about flipping coins and drinks fit for deities.

“How’s the ice settling?” Kate asked.

Becca turned her head toward her friend, who had seated herself on a chair in the tiny space.

“I can’t recall ever tasting anything so good,” Becca said. “I highly recommend it.”

She smiled at Kate, but Kate’s smile didn’t reach her worried eyes. “I’m glad you and the baby are going to be okay.”

She knew her friend’s words were sincere, but an unspoken question hung between them.

“No one else knows,” Becca said. “About the baby, I mean. No one except you. And the doctor and nurses.”

“You haven’t told your family yet?”

Becca shook her head. She moved the cup of ice chips from her stomach to rest on the side of the bed. She needed to tell them. She probably should’ve already told them—before anyone else.

She’d wanted to be sure she’d make it through the first trimester...though, if she were being honest with herself, she hadn’t really thought about telling them until now. But it made sense. No use in causing a family uproar for naught.

The thought made her shudder. She drew in a deep breath. Not only had her little one survived the first trimester, he or she had made it through this bout of food poisoning. This was a tenacious little being.

The words meant to be skipped through her head.

She would tell her parents.

Sometime soon...

As soon as she figured out how to explain.

They would ask about the father. That was the tricky part. What should she say? That his name was Nick and he was tall, gorgeous, and he’d swept her off her feet?

She’d met him at this very hospital the evening her nephew Victor had landed in this very emergency room that fateful evening three months earlier.

Nick. Nick who? Nick of the sultry brown eyes and the secret tattoos. Nick, who had been kind and generous in body and spirit and comfort. He’d been at the hospital that day interviewing for a job, which he hadn’t taken or hadn’t been offered. For whatever reason, he didn’t work there now. Personnel wouldn’t tell her why. They offered no help finding him. Of course, she hadn’t told them she was pregnant. Not that it would’ve done any good. The woman with the horn-rimmed glasses had been so tight-lipped she might as well have been head of security at the Pentagon. She wasn’t giving anything away. Oh, sure, she’d taken Becca’s number and offered to pass it along. But Nick hadn’t called.

Big surprise. They’d spent one night together. A night when her emotions had been raw. It was crazy because, judging by outward appearances—those tattoos, the motorcycle and that dark, penetrating gaze—he wasn’t her type at all.

And what exactly was her type? It had been so long since she’d been on a date that she couldn’t really remember. Working at the Macintyre Foundation, she’d been so busy that she didn’t have time for much of a social life. But that night with Nick, something intense and foreign had flared inside her. It hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t her type or that she didn’t even really know the guy. She’d been inexplicably drawn to him, and in the midst of the rush, type hadn’t even factored into the equation.

Of course, explaining this to her family would go over like a turd in the punch bowl. She was the good girl. She didn’t do things like that. Especially not after her sister, Rosanna, had gotten pregnant in high school. Nope. Rosanna had been the bad example, the cautionary tale about why you didn’t sleep with men who didn’t love you.

Becca’s hand found her stomach again. If she’d stayed at the hospital the night of Victor’s accident, life would be drastically different right now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Kate asked.

She shrugged. “I do, but not here.”

“Of course.” Kate sat forward on her chair. “There’s no privacy here. And you’re probably not up to it right now. But, Becs, I’m here for you. Okay?”

Kate reached out and squeezed Becca’s hand.

“Whatever you need,” she added.

Becca forced a smile. She recalled how her mother used to tell her it took more muscles to frown than it did to smile. At the moment, nothing could have felt further from the truth.

“Thank you, Kate. You’ve already done so much for me today.”

And she had. Kate had spent the afternoon in the emergency room with her. By now, Kate’s family would be home. Her husband, Liam Thayer, was head of Celebration Memorial pediatrics. He was one of the bigwigs at the hospital. Becca had thought about asking him to do a little sleuthing on her behalf to help her locate Nick.

Now that Kate knew, maybe she would. She’d be asking Liam to break the rules. And of course, she’d have to offer a pretty darned good explanation as to why she wanted personal info about a doctor who had interviewed at the hospital three months ago. That would mean she’d have to admit to Liam she’d slept with a man without even knowing his last name.

Other than pride, she couldn’t think of a good reason not to ask Liam to help her get an address or phone number, something more to go on than simply Nick, the hot doctor from San Antonio.

He was the father of her baby. He deserved to know.

But she and Kate would have that conversation another time. She couldn’t chance someone who worked in the ER overhearing them plotting to infiltrate hospital human resources.

Right now, her throat and lips were too dry to talk, and she was utterly exhausted. It took all the energy she possessed to place another ice chip in her mouth and close her eyes.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been lying there drifting in and out of light sleep, dreams merging with the sounds in the ER; dreams of the night of Victor’s accident when her sister had been crazed with worry and had taken it out on Becca. She dreamed of Rosanna screaming at her, telling her to get out. Blaming her for what happened. And then the dream morphed into meeting Nick, making love to Nick...

That’s why she wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or if she really had sensed him standing there. But when she opened her eyes at the sound of someone pulling open the curtain surrounding her bed, Nick was standing there.

“Hi, Ms. Flannigan. I’m Dr. Ciotti.” He was looking down at the tablet in his hands, not at her.

It was him. All tall six-foot-something of him. Slightly longish brown hair. The lab coat and green scrubs didn’t hide the mile-wide shoulders, but they covered up the tattoos on his biceps.

God, those tattoos. One of them, a single word—Latin, she thought, but she wasn’t sure. The other was an ornate Celtic cross, which she found fascinating—especially now, because based on his last name, Ciotti, Nick Ciotti—his background might be Italian.

She’d memorized those tattoos. Just as she’d memorized the feel of the long, lean muscled planes of that body. Despite her weakened state, recalling these details had her feeling the same brand of hot and bothered she’d felt that night, the night they’d first met.

And now he was standing in front of her. As if she’d conjured him.

Becca blinked. What was he doing here? When she’d tried to find him, the people in the human resources department had sworn there was not a doctor with the first name of Nick employed at Celebration Memorial.

Maybe he was some dark angel who’d been sentenced to serve purgatory in emergency rooms... Okay, she wasn’t so out of it that she didn’t realize how delusional that sounded. Or that she probably had never looked worse. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her.

And that would be preferable?

Maybe.

“I’ve just come on duty after a shift change, and I wanted to look in on you before signing your release papers.”

Had she conjured him? Or maybe she was hallucinating?

“How are you feeling?” he asked as he keyed something into the tablet, still not looking up. “I understand you’re pregnant. Are you feeling strong enough to go home?”

She didn’t quite know what to say. Especially since her entire body had gone numb at the sight of him.

When he finally looked up, their gazes met. His upright professionalism gave way to recognition. Recognition morphed into something that resembled utter shock. But it took only a couple of beats for him to compose himself. Becca could see the virtual wall go up around him.

“Hello,” he said. “It’s, uh—it’s nice to see you again.”

His words were clipped and matter-of-fact. There was no trace of the sex god who had zapped her of all common sense and discretion that night.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” She tried to keep her voice light. It wasn’t an easy task, lying there on a gurney in a hospital gown, with parched lips and a dry mouth. How many times had she imagined running into him at a park or in a restaurant—in her imagination he was always dining solo, of course, waiting for her and overjoyed by the reunion. But the one scenario she’d never imagined was running into him as a patient in the emergency room, looking as she felt right now.

God, just kill me now.

She instantly regretted the figurative words. Her hand automatically moved to her belly in a protective stance.

She took a deep breath and reframed. This wasn’t the time for vanity. So what if her hair was a mess and her makeup had washed away hours ago? No matter what she looked like right now, she had important matters to discuss with him.

“How long has it been?” he asked. His shock and surprise had settled into a professional half smile that put miles of space between them. The expression established that they were acquaintances. That he was the doctor and she was the patient, and doctors didn’t sleep with their patients.

But until now, she hadn’t been his patient. He had only helped her out by answering questions about her nephew’s condition. Medical terms she hadn’t understood and he’d explained to her.

“It’s been three months,” Becca offered. “Twelve weeks, almost exactly to the date.”

Dr. Nick Ciotti glanced down again at the tablet in his hands. He scrolled with his fingertip. “Yes. So, it’s been...three months.”

She could see him doing the math in his head.

Nick turned to the nurse, whom Becca had just noticed, and Kate. “Would you give me a moment with Ms. Flannigan, please?”

Ms. Flannigan? What?

As if she didn’t feel unattractive enough, now he was making her feel like the mean woman who ran the orphanage in Annie. Wait, no, that was Miss Hannigan. Still, no one called her Ms. Flannigan. Especially not the hot guy who’d gotten her pregnant.

The nurse cast him a look.

“It will be fine, Sally. Becca and I are old friends. We need to catch up.”

Old friends? She forced herself to not look at Kate. If she looked at Kate, she was sure Sally would be able to see everything in the glance they’d exchange.

Nick met Becca’s eyes again. “I’m sure your friend won’t mind giving us a moment, will she?”

Becca opened her mouth to answer. However, suddenly, she didn’t want Kate to leave.

But she and Nick needed to talk. The thought of being alone with him knocked the wind out of her.

“Becca?” Kate asked. “Is that okay?”

What was she supposed to say? No? Don’t leave me?

God, she was so unprepared for this. Then again, it seemed as if she’d been unprepared for everything these past three months.

Just another day in her life. Only this one included the father of her child. The thought sent her free-falling.

She nodded. “It’s fine.”

Sally looked dubious, but she motioned for Kate to follow her. “Are you sure you’re okay?” Kate asked.

“I’m fine,” Becca repeated.

“We shouldn’t be long,” Nick said, his gaze trained on the tablet in his hands.

Kate cast an uncertain glance at Nick, but she followed Sally out into the emergency room. Once they’d cleared the curtain, an awkward silence stretched between Nick and Becca.

Nick lowered his voice. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Quite a surprise,” she said. “I didn’t realize you’d taken the job.”

“I didn’t at first,” he said. “But we finally came to a meeting of the minds. So, is there something we need to talk about?”

* * *

“Yes, we have quite a bit to talk about,” Becca said. As Nick watched her lips move, he tried to process what was happening.

Becca Flannigan looked like the girl next door with her silky brown hair and piercing blue eyes with golden flecks and a navy circle around the iris. They were the kind of eyes that tempted a guy to stare a little too long. That’s what had happened the night he’d met her, when her sister had been screaming at her, telling her to leave the hospital, blaming Becca for her son’s accident, even though the kid had admitted he’d been drag racing. As he was on his way out after interviewing for the ER job, he’d witnessed Becca trying to ask a question about her nephew’s condition, and then he’d watched the boy’s mother tear into her. He probably shouldn’t have—he should’ve left well enough alone and gone back to his hotel—but as Becca had been walking away, he’d called her back and answered her question.

She’d looked so fragile that night, some protective instinct had sprung to life. He’d wanted to help her, set her mind at ease.

Even now she stirred that same visceral reaction that had previously attracted Nick. And when he’d walked into Bentleys across from the hospital to get some dinner before going back to his hotel and saw her sitting there, she’d been a ray of sunshine on his gray horizon of plans.

And he realized Becca had been talking, but he hadn’t heard a single word she’d said—except for pregnant and yes, we absolutely need to talk.

In the span of five minutes his entire world had upended. He couldn’t be a father. Well, yeah, he could be, but they’d used a condom. How had this happened?

He raked a hand through his hair as unsavory words galloped through his mind. What if this wasn’t his baby? What proof did he have other than one night with her around the time of conception? How well did he know this woman? He didn’t, beyond the fact that he’d been mesmerized by her that lone night three months ago.

He set his jaw to ensure his thoughts didn’t become words and escape into the ether.

Instead, he said, “Would you like to tell me how this happened?”

Becca frowned at him as if he was an idiot, and he realized how that must’ve sounded. Idiotic.

“Never mind,” he amended. “I’m—”

Something clattered on the other side of the curtains—a dropped supply tray, maybe, or something else metallic and noisy. Somewhere in the distance, a child cried, “I want my mommy.” He could hear one of the nurses in the adjacent area conversing with a patient as if she were standing next to him talking in his ear.

Suddenly, everything seemed amplified. They couldn’t talk about this here. Nick trained his eyes on the patient chart tablet for a long moment, trying to gather his thoughts—looking for something, anything, that might right this rapidly sinking ship. Her emergency contact was her friend Kate, or at least he assumed it was Kate. Kate Thayer, the chart read, friend. No husband or boyfriend or significant other. Becca had named her parents as next of kin. Which completely eliminated the possibility that she’d gotten married since the last time—the only time—he’d seen her. But wait—he scrolled back up to the top of her chart to check. Yes, marital status was listed as single.

He looked back at Becca.

She was the last person he’d dreamed he’d run into today.

He’d wanted to see her again. In fact, he’d thought about her often since that night. When he’d finally accepted the job, he’d planned on trying to look her up. How many Beccas could there be in Celebration, Texas? But he hadn’t had much spare time lately. Between wrapping up his job in San Antonio and moving to Celebration, he’d been slammed. He’d been in town only five days. His possessions were still in boxes stacked inside his apartment because he’d hit the ground running since moving.

And here they were. Reunited.

And she was three months pregnant. He didn’t need a calculator to do that math.

“When did you get back into town?” she asked.

Her question answered something that had been lurking in the back of his mind. Had she come here looking for him?

Of course she hadn’t. It said right on her chart that food poisoning had brought her into the emergency room.

Then another question elbowed its way into the forefront of his mind: When had she planned on telling him? Was it even part of her plan? If he hadn’t changed his mind and accepted the job, would he have even known about the pregnancy?

“I’ve been here less than a week.”

“I see.” He glimpsed a note of sadness in her eyes. Or maybe she was simply mirroring his own confusion back at him.

She looked small and fragile lying there. Despite everything—the bombshell, the uncertainty—he still had the damnedest urge to gather her in his arms and protect her.

Wasn’t that how they’d gotten into this situation in the first place?

With that thought firmly in mind, he reminded himself that he was at work. In this moment he was her attending physician. Thoughts like that were off-limits. She was off-limits.

“Sally will be here in a moment to check your vitals. When everything checks out, you can go home. You’ll want to follow up with your obstetrician, and, of course, if you start feeling ill, call your doctor. Or come back to the emergency room. If it’s an emergency.”

She was quiet while he updated her chart.

When he’d finished, essentially signing off as her doctor, he said, “When are you available?”

“Excuse me?”

“We need to talk.”

She shrugged, then lowered her voice. “Listen, I’m not going to try to force you into anything you don’t want to do.”

“Let’s not talk about this here.”

Even though he hadn’t meant to offend her, and he wasn’t putting her off—he was on the clock, and they needed privacy—she looked offended.

“When are you available?” he repeated.

“I don’t know. I guess, whenever I feel stronger.”

Really, there was no sense in delaying.

“How about tomorrow?” he said.


Chapter Two (#ulink_de034bc0-ff0b-5b30-a153-ec0b605e108d)

Thirty minutes later, Becca was in Kate’s car on her way home. It was cold outside on this mid-November evening and she felt the chill down to her bones. It amplified how weak and vulnerable she felt.

Despite how she’d wanted to reconnect with Nick, how she’d tried to find him right after she’d found out that she was pregnant, she hadn’t been prepared for the reunion to happen this way.

Even though he deserved to know the truth, she’d wanted the disclosure to be on her terms. The vulnerable side of her wished she was still safe in her cocoon, the only one who knew about the baby. No one to please. No one to convince that this child was wanted and dear and loved—even if he or she was a surprise. She had just come to terms with the situation herself. Now things had suddenly gotten complicated again.

Becca stared out the passenger-side window into the inky sky. The trees were beginning to shed their leaves and stood stark and bare in the chill night.

How symbolic, she thought. Exposed. Stripped down to the naked branches with nothing to hide what lay beneath. Somewhere from deep inside, a voice reminded her that some of these trees had lined Celebration’s Main Street for centuries. They’d endured winters and storms and climate changes to see another season.

This was simply a new season of her life.

Nick was coming over tomorrow to talk. While she understood that he needed time to digest the news—just as she had—he hadn’t seemed very happy about it. And she wasn’t sure she was ready to deal with that right now. But if not now, when?

When they stopped at a red light, Becca felt Kate’s gaze on her. Kate was such a good friend. This was all fresh news to her—huge news that her best friend was pregnant and going it alone. Well, not exactly alone. Not anymore. So, it was actually a double bit of juiciness, and not once since they’d left the hospital had Kate pushed her to give up the goods.

Becca knew she didn’t owe anyone an explanation, but Kate did deserve to know what was going on.

“So, I’m pregnant,” Becca offered. “And Nick is the father.”

Kate’s eyes were wide, but all she did was nod.

“I probably should’ve told you sooner so that you didn’t find out like this, but I wasn’t ready to tell anyone. Still, I hope you know how much I appreciate all you’ve done today. You’re such a good friend, Kate.”

“I’m glad I was here for you today,” she said. “For the record, you don’t have to tell anyone anything until you’re ready.”

The two sat in silence and Becca let the solidarity wash over her.

“But he is a good-looking guy,” Kate added. “I can see the temptation.”

A hiccup of a laugh escaped Becca, and for a moment the tension lifted. “I know, right?”

Kate’s curiosity was almost palpable.

“Liam’s never mentioned Dr. Ciotti.”

The statement was a question. Kate was testing the water to see how Becca would warm to telling her more. The light turned green, and Kate accelerated at a gentle pace.

“He hasn’t even been at the hospital a week,” Becca said. “Since they’re in different departments, I’m not surprised he hasn’t mentioned him. They may not have met yet.”

That was a long shot. The hospital wasn’t large. Most of the staff knew each other at least by sight.

“How did you two meet?” Kate ventured. “You don’t have to answer that if you’re not ready to talk about it.”

The cat was already out of the bag. She couldn’t blame Kate for being curious. If the situation were reversed, she’d want to know. Then again, Kate was married to a fabulous man. It was a relationship made in heaven, though it hadn’t started out that way. Her husband, Liam, had been a widower when Kate had first met him. He came with adorable twin teenage girls and the expected amount of baggage that a man who had lost his first love much too young would bring to a new relationship. But Liam and Kate were soul mates. Despite fate’s cruel curveball, they’d been given a chance at happiness, and they’d taken it.

Becca tried to keep her mind from wandering to the possibility that she and Nick might be soul mates.

She really shouldn’t go there. For her own peace of mind.

The best way to make sure she didn’t was to tell Kate the story of the night she met Nick.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Remember the night that Victor got in the drag racing accident?”

“Yes.”

“That night at the hospital Rosanna was so mad at me.”

Kate slanted her a glance. “Why was she mad at you? You weren’t driving.”

“I wasn’t, but I was the one who taught Victor how to drive a standard transmission.”

They came to a stop sign, and Kate shot her a glance that conveyed she clearly didn’t understand Rosanna’s anger.

Really, who did understand her sister? It seemed as if she was angry most of the time.

“She said if I hadn’t taught him, he wouldn’t have been tempted.” Becca shrugged. “That’s Rosanna logic for you. But I know she was just upset. Victor was banged up pretty badly. Anyhow, when the doctor came to give us the prognosis, I asked him to clarify something, and Rosanna tore into me. She told me I didn’t get to ask questions. She told me to leave.

“I wanted to give her some space, so I walked away. I went over to the nurses’ station to get a cup of coffee. I just wanted to give her a chance to calm down. When I was pouring the coffee, this guy—this drop-dead-gorgeous guy—was standing there, and he told me he didn’t mean to butt in, but he couldn’t help but overhear the exchange with my sister. Everybody had heard her, I’m sure. He told me he was a doctor, and he explained what Victor’s doctor had said.”

“That was Nick?” Kate asked.

Becca nodded.

“And then what? Did he ask for your phone number?”

Becca ran a hand over her eyes. Ugh. This was so embarrassing. Kate knew her well enough to know she didn’t sleep around. In fact, the last time she’d had sex was with her boyfriend two years ago.

“Not exactly. I went back over and rejoined my family, but Rosanna was just hysterical. My dad suggested that it might be a good idea to give her some space. He told me to go get something to eat, which really meant I should disappear for a while. He said he’d call if there were any changes in Victor’s condition.

“So, I walked over to Bentleys across the street from the hospital. I was just going to sit there for a while, get a decent cup of coffee—the stuff at the nurses’ station tasted like dirty water, and it was only lukewarm. I was going to bring some coffee back for my folks and Rosanna. A peace offering. I just wanted to give her a little time.

“And who do you suppose walked into Bentleys?”

“Nick?”

“How did you guess?” Becca laughed, but the sound was dry and brittle. It wasn’t funny. It was embarrassing. Kind of pathetic, really.

“That night Nick and I seemed to be on a trajectory toward each other. I came in and sat down at a booth and ordered my coffee. And for some reason everything that had been bottled up began spilling out. I started crying, and I couldn’t stop. I mean, I wasn’t making a scene or anything, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. The next thing I knew, I saw Nick through the window. He was parking a motorcycle, and a minute later, he was standing by my table, offering me a napkin for my tears.”

“And the rest is history?”

“After he’d told me what the doctor had said, he’d checked on Victor and learned that, though he was banged up pretty badly, he was stable. He was going to be fine. And then the rest is history.”

Even though they were both adults, and she knew Kate wouldn’t think badly of her, Becca couldn’t look at her friend. Instead, she stared straight ahead.

“I’ve never had a one-night stand before,” Becca said. “I do, and look what happens.”

They were in front of Becca’s condo now. Kate killed the engine and reached out and put a hand on Becca’s arm. “Honey, I’m not judging you. You’re a grown woman, and you’re free to do whatever you want with your body. As long as you’re safe—”

“We used protection.” She hadn’t meant to sound so defensive. She took a deep breath and tempered her tone. “Obviously, something went wrong.”

Kate nodded. “What are you going to do now?”

Becca shrank into the shadows as she watched two of her neighbors, Mrs. Milton and Mrs. Cavett, who had the condos on either side of her, extract themselves from Mrs. Milton’s ancient Cadillac Deville. Mrs. M’s late husband had purchased the car brand-new, and she was still so proud of it she’d tell anyone who’d care to listen. If Becca had heard the story once, she’d heard it twenty-five times.

For that matter, both of her neighbors loved to gossip. People affectionately called them the Busybody Twins. Between the two of them, they prided themselves on knowing everything about everyone who lived in the sixty units at Lake Celebration Landing Condos. What they didn’t know, they made up.

Once they learned of Becca’s pregnancy, word would be all over the tiny condo complex.

Becca shouldn’t care. She shouldn’t let other people’s opinions of her matter. But it did matter. She’d always been the good girl, the one people could count on, the community-minded good example.

Now she’d be known as the one who got knocked up.

Well, it is what it is.

She just needed to make sure her baby didn’t grow up feeling like a mistake.

“I’m going to have a baby,” she said. “Tomorrow, Nick is coming over, and we’re going to figure it out.”

* * *

Nick steered his motorcycle into a parking space at the Lake Celebration Landing Condominiums, a neatly landscaped, compact grouping of townhomes on the east side of Celebration.

His gaze picked out unit four. Becca’s place. Glossy ceramic planters with yellow and rust-colored flowers flanked the red front door, which sported a wreath of wheat stalks and small pumpkins—or were those gourds? It was hard to tell. Whatever they were, they screamed fall and hinted that Becca took a lot of pride in her home.

The amber porch light glowed in the dusk. She was waiting for him. Or she was home, at least. Of course she was; she was expecting him, even if last night as he’d signed her discharge papers she hadn’t seemed overly eager to see him. He swung his leg over the bike’s seat and stood, hesitating a moment.

Was a person ever really ready for a conversation like this? Yesterday morning when he’d opened his eyes, he’d had no idea how his life was about to change.

But they had a lot to talk about. He’d made a list. Because he knew if he didn’t write down the important things he might get distracted. Becca Flannigan made him stupid like that.

Nick hated acting stupid. Stupid equaled out of control, and out of control usually ended in disaster.

He reached in the storage console on his bike and pulled out a paper grocery bag. It contained chicken noodle soup and a small box of saltines. Becca was probably sick of bland food by now. But at least it was something. He wasn’t showing up empty-handed, he thought as he knocked on the door above the wreath.

He heard a dog bark and then a soft murmuring he imagined was her way of gently quieting the animal.

Funny, he knew so little about this woman. As he stood on her front porch, it almost felt like a blind date. However, when she answered his knock, and he saw her there, looking much more like herself, or at least more like the woman who had swept him away when they’d met, he felt that attraction, that visceral pull that had hit him hard that first night.

She wore blue jeans and a simple blue blouse that brought out the color of her eyes. She’d pulled her golden-brown hair away from her face with a black headband. She didn’t wear much makeup. The color had returned to her cheeks, and her skin looked so smooth he had to fight the urge to reach out and touch her.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi, Nick.” The dog, a red-and-white, low-to-the-ground model, barked a greeting and jumped up on his leg.

“Hey, there, buddy,” Nick said.

“Priscilla, get down. I’m sorry about that. Just tell her no, and she’ll stand down.”

“It’s okay.” He dropped to one knee, setting the bag down so he could use both hands to scratch the dog behind her ears. The animal showed her appreciation by jumping up again and licking Nick’s nose.

“Priscilla. Stop it,” Becca said. “Mind your manners.”

“She’s a corgi?” Nick asked as he got to his feet.

“Yes. A very spoiled corgi who needs to learn how to listen.”

Nick smiled. “We had a corgi when I was growing up. They’re great dogs.”

“Yes, they are. Come in.”

She stepped back to allow him room to pass. As he stepped into the foyer, he could smell the faint scent of her perfume—something floral—which brought him back to that night. As it had before, it tempted him to lean in closer and breathe in the essence of her. His mind flashed back to how she’d looked as he’d made love to her—soft and sweet and incredibly sexy in an understated way that had driven him mad.

He blinked away the thought and held out the bag.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s for you. Although you probably don’t need it now. You look like you’re feeling better.”

He’d been at the hospital from 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. And then he’d gone home to get some sleep. When he’d called her this afternoon to confirm she was up for meeting this evening, she’d said she was fine. She’d taken the day off from work to rest. Since they were meeting tonight, it hadn’t made sense to drop it by earlier. Besides, it might’ve given her the wrong idea. That he wanted more than he was prepared to give.

It was all true and valid.

So, why did he feel like a jerk?

“Thanks.” She accepted the grocery bag and peered into it. “Ah, soup and crackers. Thank you. I’m almost completely back to normal, except for being a little tired. But that’s par for the course lately.”

She shrugged and ducked her head as she turned away to shut the door. Her body language made her seem a little vulnerable in the wake of her admission.

Nick had taken a few steps out of the small foyer and into the nicely decorated living room before she caught up with him. The room, which featured shades of greens and blues, had a traditional feel, but it certainly wasn’t old stodgy traditional. It looked as if she’d put a lot of thought into the decor. Still, it wasn’t so decorated that he couldn’t imagine kicking back and watching the Cowboys or the Mavericks on a flat-screen on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

His mind tried to lead him to other things they could do on a lazy afternoon, but he reminded himself why he was here tonight, and the thought was instantly sobering.

“Sit down.” She gestured toward a couple of chairs arranged across from the couch that were upholstered in a blue-and-green geometric pattern. The couch—a big, overstuffed number—looked a hell of a lot more comfortable, but tonight wasn’t about comfort. It was about figuring things out.

He took a seat on the closest chair.

The dog had trotted into the room with a rawhide in her mouth and plopped down next to his feet, ready to do some damage to her chew toy.

“May I get you something to drink?” she asked.

He wondered if she meant wine or beer or something tamer like water or coffee. The only thing they’d had the night they met was coffee. He didn’t even know if she drank.

His gaze drifted over her stomach for a quick moment. Of course she wouldn’t imbibe alcohol now.

“I’m good,” he said. “But thanks.”

She sat on the couch across from him.

“You worked today?” she asked.

So, they were going to make small talk before they got to the heart of the matter. Okay, for a few minutes. His ex-wife had told him he wasn’t good at chitchat. According to her, he wasn’t good at communicating. Period.

It was true; he usually didn’t have the patience for meaningless conversation. What was the point? That’s why he didn’t care for cocktail and dinner parties, and it was a big part of the reason he was divorced now.

That and his tendency to be a workaholic. Delilah had complained a lot about him never being home. He’d told her that was life with an ER doctor. Eventually, she’d left him for his best friend, who also happened to own the lawn service that did their yard.

He wasn’t sure which was sadder...the fact that their breakup had been such a cliché—the only thing that could’ve been worse was if she’d left him for the pool boy—or the overwhelming sense of relief he’d felt after he’d signed the divorce papers.

After that, he’d buried himself in work. Emergency medicine suited him so well. It was fast-paced and involved a revolving door of patients. He could keep it all about work and not get too personal. He’d make sure they were stable and hand them off to their primary care doctor.

It was clean and simple. No need for small talk or building relationships beyond the situation that had brought them into his emergency room.

“I’ve worked twelve-hour shifts for the past five days. Actually, it’s my first night off since I took the job.”

“Are they ganging up on the new guy?” She smiled and her dimples winked at him.

“No, they’ve been so shorthanded that the other doctors haven’t had much time off in a while.”

She was quiet for a moment and he could see the wheels turning in her mind. She glanced at her hands, which were in her lap, before looking back at him.

“Why didn’t you take the job at first?” she asked. “Because they did offer it to you, didn’t they? Please, tell me you didn’t decline because of what happened between us.”

A pretty shade of pink bloomed on her cheeks.

“Wait, don’t answer that,” she said. “It’s a dumb question. Of course you didn’t turn down a job because of me. It’s just that I tried to get in touch with you after I found out I was pregnant, but all the hospital would tell me was that you didn’t work there.”

He nodded. So she’d tried to find him. He wondered if she’d been discreet when she was doing her detective work. No one had told him that a woman claiming to be carrying his child had been there looking for him. Then again, how would an employer break that news to a new hire? And would she really have told a complete stranger why she was looking for him? Not likely.

“I couldn’t justify relocating on the first offer,” he said. “But I could work with their counteroffer. So, just in case you were still wondering, no, my turning it down had nothing to do with you or what happened between us.”

“I didn’t even know your last name,” she said.

Exactly. They hadn’t exchanged much personal information beyond first names. He’d thought that was the way she’d wanted it, and it had made their meeting sexy and exciting.

“So, I take it you’re keeping the baby.”

“Of course I am. I have a good job. This place isn’t a palace, but it’s big enough for a child and me.”

They sat in silence for a moment. The furnace ticked and then clicked on. A car honked somewhere outside.

“Look,” she finally said, “I won’t try to force you to be part of this child’s life. We will be perfectly fine on our own. I just thought you should know.”

“Would you be willing to take a paternity test?”

“Excuse me?”

“A paternity test. Would you take one?”

Her mouth opened and shut before she could utter a word.

It wasn’t an unreasonable request, but the way she glared at him made it seem as if he’d asked her to move to Mars. The look in her eyes cut him deeply.

But he couldn’t go there. Or rather, he couldn’t let her work her way into that soft spot where instinct and feelings lived and eclipsed common sense. Instinct and feelings had never served him well. That’s how they’d gotten themselves into this mess in the first place. He made a mental note not to call the pregnancy—or the baby—a mess. If she was reacting this way to a paternity test, she’d probably smack him if he called the situation a mess.

It was all so new that the pregnancy and baby didn’t seem as if they were one and the same. That his child might be growing inside Becca...

The thought hit him like a punch in the gut. He would not make a good father. He was married to his job. Children were too unpredictable. They were too fragile. He knew for a fact he did not do well with unpredictable and fragile. He’d learned the hard way. The ER was a different type of unpredictable. It was based in science and methodical procedure. He never knew what he’d get one night to the next in the ER, but no matter what was thrown at him, he could follow procedure and tame the chaos. He could fix people.

But being a father? Raising a child? God help him. Or more accurate, God help the poor child.

That’s as far as he could go right now.

He simply couldn’t wrap his mind around it. But there was no sense in getting shell-shocked until he had the facts in hand.

He knew he sounded like a first-class jerk, but the sad truth was he wouldn’t be able to wrap his mind around the pregnancy until he was certain the baby was his.

Yes, she was three months pregnant. Yes, he’d slept with her twelve weeks ago. But they’d been together one night. He didn’t know her or how many guys she’d slept with or when she’d slept with them. Even though he didn’t want to believe she’d try to saddle him with another man’s kid.

But he didn’t really know her. Because of this, he reminded himself, it wasn’t out of line to ask for proof that he was the father.

“We used a condom,” he said. “I just don’t see how this could’ve happened.”

She squinted at him and did a little head jut.

“Hello, you’re a doctor. You, of all people, should know that condoms aren’t one hundred percent fail-safe.”

He shrugged. “You’re right. They aren’t foolproof. But they do prevent pregnancy most of the time. I need a paternity test for my own peace of mind. It’s not you, it’s me. When you get the test and the results come back, you can tell me I’m a jackass and say I told you so as many times as you want.”

She scoffed and shook her head, obviously disgusted with him.

“Becca, don’t be mad, please.”

“I’m not mad at you. Because even though I don’t sleep around, Nick—before you, I’d never had a one-night stand, and after I got the news, I wished I never had—you couldn’t possibly know me well enough to know that. So I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself for sleeping with a man who doesn’t know me well enough to know that.”


Chapter Three (#ulink_400fc7d4-8b56-57d3-8f33-c2ac2ade7232)

Just as Nick had maintained that he was within his right to ask Becca to take the paternity test, she was justified in feeling offended and irritated by his request.

However, the all-too-rational part of Becca’s brain knew without a doubt how the results would come back. It would prove that Nick was the father. So, why argue?

Why?

Insult and exasperation kicked up again. Do the words it’s the principle of the matter not mean anything to you?

Her heart had broken a little bit after Nick’s visit. Still tender, it tried to overrule that sickeningly reasonable voice in her brain.

She didn’t have to take the test if she didn’t want to. He wasn’t strong-arming her. She didn’t need to prove herself. But wouldn’t it look as if she had something to hide if she held out? The truth would set her free.

Or would it?

Handing Nick proof positive would not guarantee he’d be any happier about it than he was right now. But that was the chance she’d have to take. She’d meant it when she’d told him she wouldn’t try to force him into anything he didn’t want to do. And she wouldn’t.

In the end, vindication trumped justification. The next day she went to the lab in Dallas that Nick had recommended and let them draw blood for a noninvasive prenatal paternity test. They told her they’d have the results back in two business days.

After the longest two days of her life, Becca braced herself for the news. She wasn’t sure why she was anxious, since the results wouldn’t be a surprise. But last night she’d dreamed that the lab had gotten her results mixed up with another person’s, and she couldn’t seem to make Nick understand that it was a mistake. That the lab had messed up.

All her life Becca, who’d been a straight-A student up through college, had had recurring nightmares of failing tests. They’d only served as incentive to work harder. But this test was out of her control.

As she took the parking garage elevator into the lobby of the Macintyre Enterprises building, she took a deep breath and tried to get in touch with her rational mind, which still seemed to be fast asleep this morning.

Her foolish, emotional, battered heart was not only wide-awake and beating like a cymbal-banging monkey, it had been making her do crazy things like check her email every fifteen minutes since five-thirty this morning. If her rational mind cared to show up, it would convince her that, much like pressing an elevator button repeatedly when waiting for a slow car, refreshing her email browser every fifteen minutes before the workaday world had poured their first cup of coffee was fruitless.

But sometimes exercises in futility were therapeutic.

She stepped off the garage elevator into the lobby and turned toward the bank of elevators that would carry her up to her office on the top floor of the building.

The Macintyre Foundation was housed in a twenty-five-story glass-and-chrome building in the heart of downtown Dallas. The Macintyre Family Foundation shared office space with Macintyre Enterprises, which belonged to Kate’s brother, Rob Macintyre. The foundation mostly served the community of Celebration, Texas, which was located about twenty minutes outside of downtown Dallas. But since Rob Macintyre owned the Dallas-based building, they couldn’t beat the cost of rent.

Every time Becca stepped into the massive glass-enclosed lobby, she looked up. She couldn’t help herself, even after all these years. The ceiling seemed to stretch miles above her head, reaching toward the heavens. All around a gentle green-tinted light filtered in. Even in the soft morning sunshine, it reflected off the chrome furniture, fixtures and giant fountain in the center of the atrium.

Everything about the space was sleek and polished, and this morning it felt particularly cold and fed her anxious nerves, which just proved she needed a hot beverage to warm her up, because there wasn’t anything cold about the Macintyre family. They did a lot of good for the Celebration community.

Becca tightened her cashmere scarf and turned up the collar on her red wool coat to stave off the chill that had worked its way into her bones. She’d worn her favorite gray tweed skirt and ivory cashmere sweater to bolster herself against the emotional day. The ensemble was soft and warm, a comfort outfit, if there was such a thing, even if it was fitting a little snug these days.

She took off her hat, smoothed her hair into place and waved good morning to Violet, the receptionist who tended the lobby concierge desk. Even though Violet was small, young and pretty and very feminine, she was the gatekeeper, and she took her job seriously. No one got past her unless they had an appointment or possessed a preapproved security badge. Nobody wanted to tangle with Violet.

The heels of Becca’s boots tapped a cadence on the marble floors. The sound seemed to carry and echo in the cavernous lobby. Today, all of her senses were heightened. Even so, she tried to walk a little more carefully to muffle the noise.

When Becca finally reached the twenty-fifth floor, the office was quiet. Kate, Rob and his wife, Pepper, who was in charge of the foundation’s community relations department, obviously hadn’t gotten to work yet. Becca was so early even their receptionist, Lisa, wasn’t there.

After Becca turned on the office lights, she made her way to the kitchenette, where she started a pot of coffee for the office and brewed herself a cup of herbal tea.

God, the coffee smelled good. It took every ounce of strength she possessed not to toss the tea—a spicy, fruity blend that Kate had brought in for Becca after she’d learned about the pregnancy and Becca’s subsequent caffeine sacrifice.

Caffeine wasn’t good for the baby. That was the only incentive she needed to fortify her willpower. She grabbed her caffeine-free infusion and headed straight to her office away from temptation. At least the insipid liquid was hot and had begun to take the edge off the chill she’d experienced as she drove into work.

Fall was one of Becca’s favorite seasons. She loved everything about it, from the pumpkins and the autumn leaves as they shrugged off the last vestiges of summer green and donned glorious harvest colors, to the nip in the air and the way the community seemed to come together even more at football games and festivals. Becca had decorated her office to set a festive mood. A garland of leaves and straw artfully woven together festooned her office door, and she had brought in her pumpkin-spice-scented candle. Before she sat down at her desk, she turned on her electric candle warmer.

She had a long to-do list to plow through today, lots to accomplish to make sure Celebration’s fourth annual Central Park tree-lighting ceremony, an event the foundation sponsored the day after Thanksgiving, went off perfectly. The event had become a beloved tradition for the Celebration community, and if Becca had it her way, she’d do her part to make it better and better every year.

But even that had to wait. Because the first thing she did after she booted up her computer was check her email to see if there was any word from the lab.

The tech had given her a password and told her that after she received the email alerting her that her test results were ready, she was to go to a website, enter the password and retrieve her exoneration.

He’d called it results, of course, not exoneration, but that’s how she’d come to think of it.

Of course, since it wasn’t even nine o’clock, the email hadn’t yet arrived. She took a fortifying sip of tea and uttered a silent prayer that they wouldn’t make her wait until the end of the day.

But wait—what if she’d miscalculated? Was today considered day two? Or was that tomorrow? The cymbal monkey kicked in again, and her heart virtually rattled at the thought. She didn’t know if she could bear to wait another twenty-four hours.

She minimized the screen of her inbox and pulled up the file for the tree-lighting ceremony. She had so much to do today that, really, she should have enough to keep her mind occupied. But as she read the bids from the professional tree decorators, her mind invariably drifted to Nick.

How would he act once he had proof positive that he was the baby’s father? Would he choose to be part of his child’s life? Would he believe that despite their night together she didn’t sleep around? Whatever he did, Becca fully intended to play the I-told-you-so card once she had the results in hand.

Nice. That’ll entice him to stay. It’ll make you very pleasant to be around.

She shook away the thought, clicked on her inbox and refreshed her browser again.

Still nothing.

So she picked up a red file folder that contained her notes for the ceremony.

“Good morning.” Becca looked up to see Kate, dressed in a smart black pantsuit, holding a cup of coffee and standing in the doorway of her office.

“Hey,” she said.

“Dare I ask?” Kate grimaced as if she were bracing for Becca to throw something at her. “Any news yet?”

Great. As if she needed any more nervous encouragement, but she knew Kate meant well. Becca didn’t have the heart to sigh and tell her to go away. And to take her coffee with her.

Instead, she mustered her sweetest smile.

“Not yet.”

Kate nodded, then took a sip from her mug. “Good coffee. You really are a saint for having it ready. Since you can’t drink it, you really don’t have to do that.”

Becca closed the red folder. “I don’t mind.” She sipped her tea as if to prove she didn’t need the high-octane fuel, and the fruity, spicy stuff served her much better.

“Come in for a minute.” Becca pointed toward the chair. “Sit, please. Talk to me. Distract me. Stop me from checking my email at the top of every minute.”

Becca happened to see the clock on the bottom right corner of her computer screen turn over to nine o’clock. So, she hit the refresh button once more.

“Okay, I did it again.” Becca held up both hands, palms forward in surrender. “Stop me, please.”

“Okay, Britney Spears. I wish there was some way I could rig your computer so that every time you check your email Britney would sing, ‘Oops!...I Did It Again.’ That would make you think twice, wouldn’t it?”

“And how,” Becca said.

“Of course, I could always come in here and sing to you every few minutes. A couple of rounds of Britney therapy will probably work like touching a hot stove. After you experience it, you just know better.”

Becca laughed. “Darn, I wish I would’ve brought in the karaoke machine. I knew I was forgetting something.”

“I’m happy to sing a cappella. That would probably have the biggest impact.”

“Do you make house calls?” Becca asked. “I could’ve used you last night.”

“Why? It was a little early to start the test result watch last night, wasn’t it?”

“No, it wasn’t that. I wasn’t actually looking, but I was anxious about it. To take my mind off things, I let myself binge-watch classic movies. Turner Classics was having a James Dean film festival.”

Kate narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to one side. “Sorry, hon, I’m not following you. Why is James Dean bad?”

Why? Becca shrugged.

“I know this sounds crazy, but there’s something about Nick that reminded me of James Dean—with a modern spin and maybe with shades of Adam Levine and biceps and tattoos.

“But more rugged, though, less metrosexual,” Becca added.

They paused for a moment of quiet appreciation, slow smiles spreading over their faces.

Actually, Becca had drawn the James Dean-Adam Levine parallel the first time she’d set eyes on Nick Ciotti. Well, actually, that’s what she’d thought the second time she’d seen him. The first time, she hadn’t really seen him. She’d been distraught over Victor’s accident and the way Rosanna was trying to ice her out. She’d needed answers. But then when he’d walked into Bentleys, that’s when she’d seen him.

After noting the James Dean comparison, her next thought had been that he had to be one of the best-looking human beings she’d ever laid eyes on. Bad-boy dangerous and take-your-breath-away gorgeous, with that shock of dark hair that was just a tad too long.

Sigh.

“I can totally see it,” Kate said. “Did you sit and brood over James Dean last night?”

Becca tried to shrug it off. “I did and it’s so stupid. I just need to get Nick out of my head. I keep going back and forth between being furious with him for pushing this paternity test issue and thinking that this guy and I are going to be irrevocably connected because of the baby. And despite it all, I want that. I really want it. But what he must think of me to insist on this test.”

Kate looked at Becca for a long moment, and Becca could see the wheels turning in her friend’s head.

“What?” Becca asked. “Just say what you’re thinking. I’ve already admitted I’m a hot mess.”

“I know it was hard for you to go get the test done. It probably felt as if he was questioning the very core of your character. I know that must’ve felt really crappy. But there are some women who—” Kate paused and winced. “How do I say this? Just don’t hate me for it, okay?”

“Just say it.”

“There are women out there who might try to trap a man like Nick.”

“A man like Nick? What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“He’s a good-looking guy with a nice income and secure job. You know, a doctor.”

“You sound like Jane Austen.” In her best high-pitched British accent, Becca said, “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

Kate laughed. “Well, not exactly. I was trying to say that there are certain women who think a man in possession of a good job, especially a doctor, would make a good husband. Okay, I guess that did sound a little Austen-ish. Remember Liam’s neighbor Kimela Herring, and how she set her sights on him after his first wife passed away? That woman was shameless. She would’ve done anything—and I mean anything—to get her hooks in him. She’s the reason I ended up bidding ten thousand dollars for him at that bachelor auction that funded the new pediatric wing at Celebration Memorial Hospital. Remember how she drove up the bid?”

Becca sat back in her chair and squinted at her friend while she tried to ignore the annoyance sparking in her solar plexus. “I remember, but I’m not quite sure where you’re going with this trip down memory lane. Because surely you’re not comparing me to Kimela Herring.”

Kate looked genuinely surprised. Becca knew she sounded defensive, especially when Kate burst out laughing.

“Hardly,” Kate said, a broad grin commandeering her face. “But what I am saying is, even though you are far from being a Kimela Herring and I know this is tremendously hard for you, you might want to cut Nick some slack. Women like Kimela throw themselves at men like Nick and Liam, and that might be one of the reasons Nick is so wary.”

Becca wasn’t quite sure what to say. She could always count on Kate to give it to her straight, but she was having a hard time swallowing what Kate was dishing up. Okay, so Nick was a doctor. That didn’t make him better or worse than anyone. Even if certain women had a tendency to fling themselves at men like Nick. It certainly didn’t absolve him of his responsibility.

Kate must’ve read that on her face, because she waved her hand as if she were erasing her words. “That didn’t come out right. I feel like I just set back womankind two hundred years.”

Becca cocked a brow. “Maybe three hundred years.” But she smiled to let Kate know she wasn’t taking it personally. She couldn’t. Because even though Kate’s words rankled her, Becca could step back and see that there was some truth to the matter. Gold diggers were real. They weren’t the stuff of urban legends. She didn’t like it, and she certainly didn’t like the thought of Nick thinking of her that way.

“You’re right,” Becca said. “He doesn’t know me.”

“So please don’t be too hard on him, or on yourself, for that matter, okay?” Kate said.

Becca offered a one-shoulder shrug but nodded. He’d see the truth soon enough. She wasn’t trying to force his hand. Even if they were having a baby, she didn’t want to marry a man she didn’t love or a man who didn’t love her.

For a moment her heart tried to eclipse logic with quiet protestations. How did she know she couldn’t love Nick? She didn’t even know him beyond that one earthmoving night, which proved that there had certainly been plenty of raw material to work with then.

And, oh, how it had worked.

As if the heavens were seconding that motion, a notice that she had a new email popped up on her computer screen.

She clicked over to her inbox.

The results were in.

* * *

After working the 7:00 p.m. to 7:00 a.m. shift the night before, which he would repeat tonight, Nick’s days and nights were mixed up, but such was the life of someone employed in emergency medicine.

His schedule was as unpredictable as the cases that presented themselves each night in the ER. Some weeks he worked the graveyard shift, others he pulled the more civilized 8:00 a.m. to 8:00 p.m. one. Even though Celebration Memorial usually scheduled attendings four days on and three days off, sometimes the workweeks were longer, and he never knew what he’d be working one week to the next. That was fine because he was married to his job. Emergency medicine was a possessive spouse.

But now he was going to be a father.

He’d picked up Becca’s text after he woke up around two o’clock. He hadn’t even had a chance to grab a cup of coffee. So he was still a little groggy as he read the news. It was force of habit to check his phone the minute he rolled out of bed to make sure he was on top of things at the hospital, to make sure he hadn’t missed an important call or text.

In this case, he had.

Becca had called. Then, when he’d slept right through that, she’d texted. Her message had said, The results are in. She’d included a link to a website and a password.

He’d known what the results would be before he’d typed in the first character. He’d known in his bones that Becca wasn’t the kind of woman who would try to pawn off another guy’s child on someone else. He supposed he’d known the truth since the moment he’d set eyes on her again in the emergency room, but he hadn’t been able to wrap his mind around it.

A father. He was going to be a father. He couldn’t imagine a worse person for such an important job. The kid deserved better than anything he could offer. Of course he would provide for the child, but love? How could he love someone else when he didn’t even like himself sometimes?

The bald reality rolled around inside his gut, cold and heavy like a large ball bearing. To make it stop, he pushed up off the sofa bed and made short order of putting the couch back together, tossing the cushions into place. The chore had become a routine because if he didn’t put away his bed, it dominated the living space in the tiny efficiency apartment that sat above George and Mary Jane Hewitt’s garage. He’d rented the place on a month-to-month basis, figuring he’d find something more permanent once he got settled in his job and got to know the area. Since the place came fully furnished, he’d had the movers unload everything he owned, except his clothes, into a storage shed.

He didn’t spend much time at home, and as the modest apartment came with everything he needed, he really hadn’t missed the stuff that was stashed in those boxes. The Hewitts’ granddaughter was coming to live with them in January. So they wouldn’t offer more than a sixty-day lease. By that time, Nick figured he’d be settled in at the hospital and have a better read on the town. He’d even planned on looking up Becca.

It didn’t make any sense to unpack only to pack it all up again when he moved again after the first of the year. It felt good and light and free to not be weighed down by worldly possessions, even if temporarily.

But he hadn’t counted on the news that Becca was carrying his child.

He was going to be a father.

Maybe if he repeated the words to himself enough it would start to sink in. Yeah. No, that hadn’t happened yet.

As Nick made his way into the tiny kitchenette, he uttered a silent oath that was utterly unfatherly. He braced his arms on the edge of the slip of kitchen counter, where the coffeemaker and toaster lived. He knocked his head against the cabinet in front of him for not being more careful.

But he had been careful. They’d used protection. Short of being celibate, how much more careful could he be?

The only thing that was crystal clear now was, with Nick as its father, this poor kid was screwed. Nick wasn’t cut out to be a dad or a family man. The most devastating part of the equation was that this child hadn’t asked for this, hadn’t selected him. He or she—God, this was a person, a living, breathing human being whom he could screw up—deserved so much more than such a poor excuse for a father.

But like it or not, this child would arrive in about six months. There was no changing that. He squeezed his eyes together and raked both hands through his hair, which was still sleep mussed. Then he grabbed his phone and called Becca.

The phone rang three times, and he thought it might go to voice mail, but she answered.

“Hi, it’s Nick.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment he wondered if the call had dropped. He was just pulling the phone away from his ear to look at the screen when he heard her.

“Hi, Nick.” Her voice sounded neutral, almost businesslike. Of course, she was probably at work. And nearly four hours had passed since she’d texted him this morning.

“I just picked up your text.”

“Okay.”

She wasn’t going to make this easy on him, was she? Well, why should she?

Okay, so he had some smoothing over to do to convince her he wasn’t a first-class creep. But he still felt justified asking for proof positive. He hoped Becca would understand that the test results were the first step in moving forward.

“We have a lot to talk about,” he said.

“Do we, Nick?”

Her tone wasn’t hostile, just calm, eerily calm, a matter-of-fact answer to his feeble attempts to meet her halfway.

“I would ask you to have dinner tonight, but I have to work at seven. Would you have time to meet for coffee after you get off work?”

“Meet me in Central Park in downtown Celebration at five o’clock.”

He released a slow, controlled breath, both relieved and surprised that she’d agreed to see him. But she had, and that was the first step. They’d take it from there.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Nick,” she said. “I don’t expect you to marry me. So, don’t worry.”

What was he supposed to say to that? It was one of those damned if you do, damned if you don’t situations, and he wasn’t going there. This impassive front she was projecting was probably just a defense to gain control over a situation that felt way out of control. He felt out of control, too.

Becca had just told him he was off the hook. She’d just handed him a free pass. If he knew what was good for him, he’d take it and run. But he couldn’t. And that made him feel so out of control it was as if his world was spinning, and all he could do was hang on or risk being flung off into parts unknown.

Actually, maybe that had already happened. Maybe this weird alternate universe was where he’d landed.

“I’ll see you at five.”

* * *

He arrived at the park a little early. He left his motorcycle in a parking space along the street and sat on a bench, looking at the fall decorations adorning the gazebo. Kids played in the park, running and laughing and chasing each other, as he sat there trying to gather his thoughts before Becca arrived.

Her words I don’t expect you to marry me rattled in his brain. If Becca Flannigan was one thing, it was sincere. If she said it, she meant it. Nick knew he should’ve been relieved, but he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was feeling—

Until he saw her walking across the grass toward him in her red coat and boots. Something pinged in his gut. Awareness flooded his senses, and his body tightened in response.

An image of the night they were together played through his mind. A guy like him would be wise to ignore feelings like this. He shouldn’t lead her on and make her think he was promising things he couldn’t deliver. Becca and the baby deserved better than anything he had to offer. He had a history of tearing things apart, of ruining anything good that had ever come into his life.

She deserved to be married to the father of her child, if she wanted to be. Deserved to have a traditional family, a traditional life. The house with the white picket fence with dogs and cats in the yard, if that’s what she wanted.

He didn’t know for sure, because he didn’t know her at all. Even if every cell in his body tried to convince him otherwise. As he stood to greet her, he shook off the unbidden memory of their night together—holding her, kissing her, making love to her. He had to man up and knock it off.

She offered a shy smile as she approached.

He had to fight the urge to hug her. He mentally scoffed. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t a hugger. He had to do something to lighten the mood and preempt the awkwardness.

“Go ahead and say it.”

She squinted at him as she fidgeted with the scarf that hung around her neck. “Say what?”

“You can say I told you so. Twice if you want.”

She nodded solemnly. “I thought about it, actually.”

She shrugged and looked away.

Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to make a joke out of it. He was only trying to lighten the mood. A group of six preschool-aged kids ran ahead of their mothers, landing and tumbling in the grassy area directly in front of Nick and Becca.

Their mothers stopped at another bench about ten yards away and waved to Becca. She waved back. The three huddled for a moment, talking, then in unison they looked back at Nick and Becca. Then huddled up again.

“Friends of yours?” Nick asked.

“Acquaintances,” she said. “I don’t usually hang with the playgroup set. I guess that will change soon.”

One of the kids, a little girl with white-blond curls, let loose an earsplitting shriek, and two of her friends followed suit before they started chasing each other and shrieking even louder as they ran.




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