Babies in the Bargain (17 page)

His lips slowly brushed her mouth and settled on it. The contact came smoothly. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. She tasted his lower lip, felt its sensual texture and nibbled on it like a starved puppy. He let her have her way and trailed his tongue along the contour of her mouth.

A spicy aroma enveloped them. Marc pulled back and exhaled. “I shouldn’t burn the dinner.”

To hell with dinner. She was the one about to combust tonight.

She sighed as he went back to the stove and spooned the pasta and shrimp onto two plates. She wanted to offer her help, but doubted she could keep her legs steady enough to stand.

Piña colada had never had such a dazing effect on her nerves. Not half a glass. But then the kiss he gave her as an appetizer was headier than a drink.

Marc put the two plates on the table and took his place. “
Buen provecho
.”

“Bon appétit,” Holly answered and then tasted her food. “Dee-li-cious. You really have potential.”

“Thanks.”

While eating, she chatted about Paulito, avoiding hospital subjects. Marc cleared his plate in a few minutes and brought two big bowls of ice cream for dessert. She chuckled and slid her bowl toward him. “I’m full. You can have both.”

“Not even a taste? It’s mango sorbet.”

He filled a spoon and handed it to her. She licked it with delight and suddenly stopped. Marc was staring at her, watching the little dance of her tongue. She blushed and gulped the rest of her sorbet. With effort, she pushed back from the table, grabbed her plates, and walked to the sink.

In an effort to cool her mind, she washed dishes and scrubbed pots and pans. To no avail. Her flesh yearned for his touch.

Marc remained seated in his chair, his gaze focused on the sorbet he was eating.

“I’d better go study now. Thank you for a lovely dinner. Good night.” She passed him and went to the stairs. Midway up, she paused and turned around. Would he call her back or try to follow her?

“Night,” he grumbled without moving.

She sighed and continued up the stairs.

“Holly?”

“Yes?” Her heart drumming against her ribs, she went down two steps, ready to dash all the way to his arms.

He poured himself a drink of Piña colada. “I hope you’re not disappointed with our arrangement.” He tilted his head up. His gaze focused on her while he swirled the liquid in his glass.

“Oh.” She stifled a frustrated wail. “No, I’m not.”

How could she be? Marc was following the rules she’d set to the letter. A roommate arrangement, a business proposal. At the moment, she wished he would take her in his arms, and the hell with the rules.

He downed half of his glass and clanked it on the table. “So, you don’t regret your decision?”

“Uh.” She frowned and slumped onto the first step of the stairs as she seriously considered his question.

For a woman who’d banished the thought of marriage and family to concentrate on her career, sharing Paulito’s love and the responsibility for his care with Marc was the ideal arrangement. “Actually, I’m quite happy with my decision. I like having Paulito around.”

“Paulito? Hmm.”

She swallowed when he arched his eyebrows. “And you, too.”

Oh yes
. Warmth rippled over her skin. She loved having Marc around. Probably more than she should.

He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re so gracious.”

“Honestly, you’ve been very helpful.” Absolutely great. Her body tingled with need, but her mind warned,
Don’t play with fire
. “I mean it.”

“Thank you.”

All in all, she was pretty pleased with her decision. A temporary arrangement she was getting used to with incredible ease. As if it were meant to last forever.

What would happen after the nanny came?

Goosebumps sprouted over her arms. She already knew the answer. Marc would move out of Holly’s house as planned. Out of her life.

No, please. Her heart screamed as her knees weakened.

Forget the future. Take one day at a time and enjoy it.

“Marc, I don’t regret my decision. Our arrangement is working very well.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

“This arrangement isn’t working at all.” Sitting at his office desk at WCH, Marc hissed the words through clenched teeth.

Technically, he had been sharing Holly’s house for a month now. In fact, he hardly saw her. A couple of C-sections on the same team, a few minutes here or there to answer her medical questions, or a quick exchange of instructions about the baby’s feeding and sleeping on their way in and out of her place.

He had promised he’d be the correct, reputable roommate. But at what cost? He missed Holly. He wanted to hold her, cover her face and body with caresses and kisses, keep her tucked in his arms after a long night of love.

His blood buzzed in his brain and rushed south.

Damn it, it’s not working
.

He’d taken more cold showers in the last month than in his entire life. How long could he cope with this look-from-afar-but-don’t-touch situation he’d created for himself?

Of course their cohabitation had been ideal for Paulito. Even if Marc was paying the price with a continual frustrated state of arousal.

Marc stared at the picture on his computer screen. Holly smiling, with Paulito in her arms. He’d snapped the photo the day after he moved in with her. It had become his screen saver, and the focus of everything he held dear.

A knock on the door pulled him out of his contemplation. “Come in.”

A resident from his research team entered and approached his desk. “It’s not working. They didn’t make it.”

“What? Who died?” Admiring the gorgeous turquoise eyes that could make him forget the world, Marc wondered if he’d missed important information about one of his patients. Unable to concentrate with Holly smiling at him, he clicked on his mouse and closed the picture.

“The mice I administered the new anesthetic to. Two out of three died,” the resident explained.

“Why? I’ve never had trouble with this drug before.”

The young man took a step back, rubbing his hands nervously. Marc raked his fingers through his hair. He shouldn’t hold the poor guy responsible for his own crappy mood.

“Have a seat. Let’s go through the procedure.” Marc scribbled the chemical equation and carefully reviewed notes and calculations with the young man. “You’ve injected the animals with the wrong dose.”

The resident swallowed. “Dr. Suarez, I followed the procedure to the letter.”

Marc sucked in a deep breath. An incorrect dosage. No wonder the mice died. He’d have blamed the resident for this inexcusable mistake. But it wasn’t the resident’s fault. Marc made the mistake. Him? The eminent doctor? A lack of concentration on the first step of his research. What was happening to him?

“Repeat the experiment.” He tore a page from his notepad. “Here. Use these numbers.”

“Yes, sir.” The young man scurried out.

In need of a morale boost, Marc clicked on his keyboard. Holly’s angelic face popped in front of him. He trailed a finger on the screen, on the golden mane that always dazzled him. He was sick of his office, sick of cloistering himself away from her. He needed Holly the same way he needed air or food, except that recently, any morsel he swallowed mingled with regrets and clogged his throat.

His self-imposed celibacy weighed heavily, especially during the nights they were both at home. He’d coped so far, for Paulito’s sake.

But meanwhile, his research stagnated. Residents and nurses avoided him, afraid of his scowl and the unusual curtness of his orders, and conversation hushed when he came near a group.

Even Holly didn’t smile anymore.

At work, he treated her like a colleague and at home he acted like a monk. How could he put zest in their relationship? He pounded on the desk.

What relationship?

He’d dedicated fifteen years of his life to medical study and training with never a free moment. At twenty, after Mama’s death and Papa’s paralysis, he was transformed overnight into head of a large and turbulent family.

Poor Papa, he’d remained sunk into his wing chair, eyes vague, breath reeking of alcohol, a bottle of whiskey pressed against his heart, unable to function without the woman he’d put on a pedestal. Marc would never allow himself to fall head over heels in love and then suffer a thousand hells as his father had when his beloved wife died. At fifty, Papa had looked like a shriveled old drunk. A sure red flag for love and marriage.

Except that his dear Abuelita was a pro at manipulation, and had her heart set on seeing Marc married, with a full-time mother and several children at his side.

Married? Him?
That’ll be the day.
He smiled fondly at the pair of turquoise eyes facing him on the screen. They belonged to a gorgeous woman—a damn good doctor, not a prospective full-time mama.

Back in San Juan, his family was doing great and didn’t need him anymore.
Time to live. Really live
.

There had to be a solution. Medication without side effects.

He’d promised to behave while they cohabitated—when they were inside her house. A Suarez always kept his promise.

Leaning his elbows on his desk, he held his head between the palms of his hands and tried to remember the exact words of his pledge.

If she agreed to live under his roof,
he swore he’d
never take advantage of their proximity in the same house
.

But he never mentioned anything about enforcing his strict rules in the outside world.

That’s it. Take her out. Invite her on a date
.

Would she accept? Maybe.  

Not only for a dinner. He’d cooked a lot of tasty meals in the last month. He needed something special and unusual to persuade her to go out with him. He let his finger zigzag down the entertainment section of the newspaper.

Nothing.

He suddenly smiled as he spotted a flier on his desk.
That’s what I need.

He made a couple of phone calls before talking to Holly. She was probably studying, with Paulito asleep in the next room.

 “Listen, I have tickets for the opera, for next Saturday. Do you like opera?”

“I may be on—”

“Placido Domingo and Jose Carreras are singing together at the Kennedy Center. A one night performance.”

“Both Domingo and Carreras? Wow.”

“It’s a charity gala. Black tie event. A fundraiser for WCH Hospital.”

“The fundraiser? Oh, I heard about it. But I may be on call that evening.” Her voice wavered, and he couldn’t suppress a smile.

“You’re not.”

“How would you know?”

Trust me, sweetie, I know
.

Good thing she couldn’t see his smug expression at the moment. He played with a pencil and tried to tame the eagerness in his voice. “I checked my schedule with the administrator. I noticed you’re free on that night.”

“Don’t you dare play games with my schedule, Dr. Suarez.”

He laughed. “It was for a good cause. I didn’t want you locked in your NICU when the whole staff is having fun.”

She sighed. “And Barbara let you twist her arm?”

“Are you kidding? She’s a tough sergeant. It cost me two tickets for the opening baseball game of the Baltimore Orioles to convince her we needed a free night. She said she reserved the right to call us in case of emergency.”

“Of course. But what about Paulito? How can we—”

“Stacey has agreed to baby-sit.”

“You’ve already arranged everything? All that to take me to the opera?”

“It’s a once-in-a-life-time evening with both tenors in Washington. Come on. Give yourself a break. Even Dr. Halsdale is going.”

“Thank you, Marc. I’ll think about it.”

“See you later, sweetie.” She hadn’t said no. Marc punched his fist in the air and whispered a victorious
Yesss
.

A good medication with no side effect. Life was about to change for Paulito’s
parents
.

* * *

In her living room, Holly stared at the graphic display on her laptop screen. The procedure didn’t make sense. And Marc’s invitation to the opera made even less sense.

How could she explain his sudden change of attitude? So far, he’d treated her as...

A colleague?

She frowned, assessing his behavior. Definitely more than a colleague. A friend, maybe? A dear friend, yes, but not a prospective lover or date. At one point she thought of him as a platonic husband. Yuck. Who needed that?

Before the accident he’d tried hard to take her out and then they shared three kisses. In three months. Not much. She counted on her fingers.

A sympathy kiss, a good-bye kiss, and a thank you kiss.