Cherished Beginnings (11 page)

"I can't," she said. He looked woozy, as though he had already had too much to drink.

"Hah," he said. "That's pretty good. You can't?"

Maura nodded, sure it wasn't worth explaining. But she couldn't imagine herself in that crush of people, flinging her body around in such an obviously sexual way. Those long-ago dances in St. Bridget's High School gym had been comparatively prim.

"Why don't you just say you don't want to dance with me?" He was leaning toward her belligerently. His tone of voice made her uncomfortable and she recoiled sharply at the blast of his beery breath. She should have left, she thought despairingly, before she ever came inside.

Then, rescue. "Maura McNeill?"

She whirled to see a young brunette, petite and personable, looking up at her with interest. "Yes," Maura said, no longer worried. There was warmth and depth in the other woman's eyes.

"Bonnie Trenholm," said the brunette, holding out her hand. "Bob," she said to the young man, "DeeDee is looking for you. In the den."

"DeeDee," he bellowed, forging off down the hall, Maura forgotten. "Where are you, dear heart?"

"Ignore him," advised Bonnie. "He's an intern from the hospital. Gets drunk every weekend. I didn't invite him, but DeeDee did. She's a student nurse and has the most disgusting crush on him. Can't imagine why. But that's the way it is around hospitals, particularly hospitals attached to medical schools. You know all about that, I suppose."

Maura shook her head. Bonnie guided her up a nearby flight of stairs and sat on the carpeted landing. She patted the stair beside her. "Sit down," she said, grinning up at Maura. "This looks like a fairly quiet place for the time being."

"I don't know much about... well, dating situations around hospitals," Maura confessed. She felt she could be frank with Bonnie, since the other midwife seemed kind and understanding. "I—I came here right out of a convent. I took my nurse's training as a nun."

Bonnie stared for a moment. "Good heavens, and I invited you to this party? You must feel completely out of your element."

"That's for sure," said Maura fervently. "I really only came to meet Dr. Urquehart. I thought a social situation..." and then her voice died out uncertainly as she peered through the rungs in the stair railing at the bodies writhing to music in the room below.

"Don't worry," said Bonnie sympathetically. Her very sympathy made Maura trust her. "I'll corner Alan Urquehart and tell him you want to talk with him privately. I won't tell him you're an ex-nun unless you want me to."

"No, don't. When they know I'm an ex-nun, people see me in a different light. I want to appear as—as normal as possible. And my being an ex-nun shouldn't enter into whether Dr. Urquehart wants to sponsor my practice or not."

Bonnie squeezed her arm. "Of course it shouldn't. Okay. Wait on the patio and I'll send him out. Then you can stay at the party or leave afterward, whichever makes you more comfortable."

"I think," Maura said slowly, "I'd better go. Life in the convent didn't prepare me for this. I have some growing up to do before I can handle it."

Maura waited uneasily on a wicker settee for Alan Urquehart. The back of the settee cut uncomfortably into her upper arms, so she edged slightly forward and folded her hands in her lap as she rehearsed what she would say. She knew she'd have only a few moments to make Dr. Urquehart see the urgency of her situation. Dr. Urquehart was one of the best ob-gyn doctors in the Charleston area, and he was on the staff of the largest hospital in Charleston.

Finally, after what seemed like a long time, a middle-aged man came out of the house, closing the door quietly behind him. "Ms. McNeill?" he said, peering at her through thick glasses.

"Yes," she said, thinking that she needn't have worried so much. Alan Urquehart was a kindly, portly man who smiled at her reassuringly.

Maura's qualms faded away, and suddenly it was easy to talk to Dr. Urquehart about her hopes and dreams for the people of Shuffletown.

"I know what I'm asking you to do is highly unusual," she said earnestly when she had finished her plea. "But I'll move my patients to Charleston only if their medical condition absolutely requires it."

"And how do you plan to transport when necessary?"

"In my minivan if time isn't a problem. By ambulance if it is."

Alan Urquehart regarded her consideringly, and as the moments ticked by, Maura realized that she was holding her breath in suspense. But then he nodded decisively. "I'll do it," he said, and Maura nearly fell off the settee. She hadn't expected it to be so easy.

"I happen to believe that the women of Shuffletown are just as entitled to alternative birthing methods as anyone else, and you seem to be just the person to provide the thorough care that they need." He smiled warmly, and Maura could have thrown her arms around him. Instead they shook hands, and within a few minutes they had agreed on a loose working relationship that would provide the precious backup Maura needed. She thanked him profusely when they parted.

"I'll help you in any way I can," he told her. His confidence in her made her feel wonderful.

Maura sought Bonnie out in the crowded kitchen to thank her for her recommendation.

"I'm glad it worked out," Bonnie said before hugging Maura in congratulations. "Let me know if there's anything else I can do."

"Come visit the McNeill Birth Center when it's open," Maura said, and Bonnie promised that she would.

Feeling that she'd made a new friend, Maura pushed her way through the crush of people in the hall. She was ready to leave. She stepped on a few toes on her way out, but she hardly cared. She longed for fresh air and freedom from this awful party.

And then she ran into him. Before she even lifted her eyes to his face, she recognized Xan by the distinctive whorled pattern of the dark hair on his chest above the unbuttoned top buttons of his shirt. She looked up and up to the cleft chin, the less-than-perfect nose, and the dark-fringed green eyes, which were regarding her with amazement.

"Taking in a bit of the local social scene, I see," Xan said.

"I was on my way out," she managed to say, brushing past him.

"No, you weren't," he said, somehow wrapping his arms around her so that she could move no farther. "You were just about to dance with me."

"I can't dance," she said for the second time that night.

"Of course you can," he said, and to prove it he maneuvered her until her right hand was in his left and her left was on his shoulder, and his right arm around her waist tugged her insistently in the direction his feet were moving.

She stumbled. He righted her. He peered down at her, frowning slightly and sniffing her breath. "Had a little too much to drink?"

She gulped. "Nothing to drink." She recognized the song playing now as a slow ballad, one she'd heard often enough on the minivan's radio during the long, lonely drive from California. Some level of awareness sorted out the rhythm to this dance, and she tried to recall the one-two-three, one-two-three of her dancing-school days. A kid named Dennis Riley had usually been her partner. He'd had freckles on his ears.

Xan swooped her into a vacant place in the middle of the crowd of dancers. She gave his shoulder a little push with her left hand. He was holding her much too tightly.

"What was that supposed to mean?" he asked.

She flushed in embarrassment. "You're—you're holding me too closely," she said.

"You could follow me better if I held you even closer," he said, firmly pulling her body toward him until her breasts tipped his chest. She pulled away, but he rested his cheek on her temple, where she could barely feel the slightly rough texture of recently shaved skin.

"You dance very nicely," he said with a hint of insincerity. And then "Oops" as she delivered a heel chop to his instep.

"I told you I didn't dance," she pointed out.

"That's right," said an all-too-familiar voice behind them. They both looked to see Bob, the tipsy intern who had asked Maura to dance earlier. He looked threatening. "You wouldn't dance with me. Why are you dancing with him?" He jerked an intimidating thumb at Xan.

"Leave her alone," Xan said in a low tone. "The lady's my date."

"Your date? She came in with us." He looked befuddled.

"Chill, Bob. She's leaving with me." The music was trailing out on the last lingering notes of the song. "Shall we go, Maura?" Xan eyed her meaningfully.

With Bob scowling at both of them, there was nothing she could do but hook her arm through Xan's and let him escort her off the floor, leaving an angry-looking Bob standing there looking as though he'd like to kill someone if only he could figure out who. A few seconds later, they heard him yelling, "DeeDee? DeeDee!" Maura pitied the unseen DeeDee, wherever she was.

Xan spirited her outside, and then, looking pleased with himself, said, "Where to? It appears that you're my date. There's an Irish band playing at the Piccadilly Pub. Want to try it?"

"Xan, thanks for rescuing me, but I can't go out with you." She stopped in front of her car and pulled her keys out of her purse, jingling them slightly out of nervousness.

"If you didn't want to socialize, why did you come here?" He stared at her, perplexed.

She inhaled. "I came here because Bonnie Trenholm put in a good word for me with her supervising doctor, Alan Urquehart, and I wanted to ask him if he'd be my supervising physician."

"And?" Xan was glowering down at her, more intimidating than she'd ever seen him.

"And he will. End of story. End of evening." She turned and slipped the key into the locked door.

Xan raked an impatient hand through his hair. The curls stood up on his head, no longer styled into neat waves. "So you got your way after all," he said in carefully measured tones.

Maura paused before getting into the minivan. "Does that surprise you?"

He considered this. Then the suggestion of a smile touched his lips. "No, Maura, my dear, it does not. You are a determined individual with stubborn ideas. You wanted to get your way and you did. Congratulations." His lip curled, and it was not quite the smile she thought it was at first. The glint in his eyes cut through her.

Stubborn. Determined. Well, she'd been referred to in those terms before. His words echoed those of the mother superior when she demanded that Maura discontinue her outreach practice in midwifery. Stubborn and determined were not words that should apply to a nun. But they were not an unwelcome description now, and they only underscored her dedication to her mission.

The smile lighting Maura's features was brilliant and not at all what Xan had expected. "Thank you," she said, slamming the door after her.

"Wait a minute," he said, wrenching the door open again. "You got your way. And now I'm going to get mine." And then he pulled her down from the seat so that she tumbled into his arms.

"Maura McNeill," he said, and again she could see twin moons reflected in the depths of his eyes as the warm flutter of her name became his breath upon her lips. Her lips parted in surprise as his face bent over hers, and she gasped in shock. His mouth was open as it touched her lips, sucking the breath out of her, possessing the very air she breathed, and replacing it with his own.

His lips sought the corners and crevices of hers, savored the fullnesses and the flavors, and her startled response was a sensation of weakness overshadowed by awareness. Surely and masterfully he angled her head into the proper position and swung his arm around her to cradle it.

Her hands touched him tentatively at first, searching for support as he bent her over his arm, but once they felt the warm surging strength of his muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt, she no longer seemed to be able to control their direction. Her fingers felt their way over his rippling biceps, lingered numbly for a moment on the hardness of his shoulders, and slid deliberately to his neck, where they rested at the nape, barely tipping the short curly hair there.

His other arm, the one that wasn't supporting her head, circled her upper back, pressing her firmly against his body so that his well-defined pectoral muscles strained against her swelling breasts.

This shouldn't be happening,
she told herself helplessly, and then his tongue found the opening it needed and invaded her with a forcefulness that left her no more time for that kind of thinking. A new rationalizing sort of thought seemed to have fooled her into believing that it was right to be doing this with Xan Copeland. This had to be right because it felt so good.

In three minutes, she'd learned more about intimacy between a man and a woman than she'd learned in her whole lifetime. Her mouth had opened to him and it was all delight, all pleasure to be swept away like this.

"You see," he murmured huskily against her throat when he had finally released her lips. "This is good for both of us, Maura."

Xan's breath fairly sizzled on her skin, and she knew that if she allowed this to go on, the results could only be disastrous. She pushed him away, but only a little.

"It's all happening much too fast," she told him shakily.

"I don't think it's happening fast enough," he said wryly, and when she looked at him more sharply, she could see that he wore a look of dry amusement.