Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (47 page)

Anya laid the papers atop the bureau. “And you believed him.”

“I must be really stupid.” Zora’s gaze pleaded for understanding.

“He took advantage of you.”
Again.
“That’s the kind of jerk he is.”
And speaking of stupidity...
“You used contraception, right?”

Zora’s blank expression gave her the answer. “I never thought about it.”

“You’re an ultrasound technician,” Anya pointed out. “You spend all day showing people their unborn babies, and pregnancy never occurred to you? I’m not trying to be mean. I goofed, too, but...”

“But you were on birth control pills and I’m not,” Zora finished. “Well, that was Monday, so it’s too late for me to use a morning-after pill.”

“You’re not late already, are you?”

“No.” Zora blew her nose into a tissue. “I’m sure I’m not pregnant. We tried for a whole year to have a baby and it didn’t work.”

“There. You’re safe.” Anya was relieved for her friend.

Judging by the fact that Zora was shredding the tissue, though,
she
wasn’t relieved. “On the other hand, my stomach’s bothering me.”

Uh-oh.
“Bothering you how?”

“Churning.” Her friend stared at her in dismay. “Not only in the mornings, though. That means it’s from tension, right?”

Their gazes met. “Or not.”

They shared a silent moment of dread. Then Zora asked, “How early do those pregnancy tests work?”

“We might be able to get results this soon.” Despite choosing not to test herself, Anya had read the label on one of the kits at a drugstore. “They work as early as seven days past ovulation.”

“I don’t track my ovulation.”

“When’s your period due?” Anya asked.

“Like, yesterday.” Wistfully, Zora said, “Betsy would love to have a grandchild.”

“You mean you’d keep it?” Anya couldn’t imagine that, not only because of her own feelings toward motherhood but even more because of her friend’s messy relationship with her ex-husband. “How do you suppose Andrew would react?”

A sodden tissue hit the wastebasket. Zora snatched another. “He won’t bring me ice cream and cute costumes, I can tell you that.”

There was no comparison between Andrew and Jack. Appreciation flooded Anya for the kind, caring guy she’d chosen.
Except you didn’t choose him, and this is way off topic.
“You aren’t still fantasizing that Andrew loves you, are you?”

A deep sigh. “I guess not.” Zora perked up a little. “If I keep the baby, he’ll have to pay support. That’s fair, right?”

“And you’ll be tied to that creep for life. He’ll keep you dangling, paying late and playing other games, just like he did with the divorce papers.” Hoping Zora would abandon this crazy line of thought, Anya added, “Not to mention how much the baby would remind you of him.”

Her friend wrapped her arms around herself. “Don’t tell me you haven’t imagined your baby resembling Jack. He
is
handsome.”

“We aren’t talking about me.”

“But he’d take care of you,” Zora persisted. “Jack’s like the prince in a fairy tale.”

“Get real!” Anya’s idea of happily-ever-after did
not
involve being locked in a castle, wearing glass slippers that hurt her feet and curtseying every time his Highness entered the throne room. “Back to
you.
”

“If I want to keep my baby, that’s my business,” her friend said.

Anya saw no sense in arguing. “Okay. Besides, your period will start, and that will be that.”

“I want to know
now.
” Determination transformed her friend from weepy to demanding.

“As in, this very instant?”

“Yes.”

Might as well get it over with. “I’ll drive you to the drugstore,” Anya said.

Less than an hour later, they were back in the bedroom, side by side on the bed, staring at a pink stick. Not faint pink either. Bold and definite.

“Oh, pickles,” Zora muttered.

“Pickles?” Anya would have chosen a stronger word.

“I can’t use bad language where the baby might hear.”

Anya started to laugh. Zora glared, and then she, too, dissolved into giggles. They fell into each other’s arms, laughing until they cried.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m kind of glad we’re in this together.” Her friend sniffled.

“Me, too.” From the day they’d met, they’d been in sync with each other—not that Anya had anticipated anything like this. “You have to tell Andrew.”

“I’ll send him an email.” A faint smile broke through. “And copy it to his mother.”

“We should warn his fiancée so she understands what kind of man he is,” Anya said.

Zora shrugged. “He’ll give her a snow job and she’ll buy it like I did. Besides, she’ll find out sooner or later.”

“Before the wedding would be helpful.”

“I’ll let Betsy break the news.”

Now that they knew for sure—or almost sure—that her friend was pregnant, Anya hoped Zora would think carefully what was involved in raising a child alone, with or without financial support. “Just to get the facts, you should talk to your attorney about adoption.”

Zora shook her head. “This may be the only baby I’ll ever have. I want a little person to love.”

Would Anya ever have another child? She hadn’t considered her pregnancy in that light.

Still, it was one thing to long for a baby, as Zora apparently did. For Anya to hang on to her child simply because this might be her only shot at motherhood would be far more selfish than relinquishing it.

Yet later, alone in her room, she wondered what it would be like to stay on in the house after the babies were born. She’d been picturing having fun with Zora the way they always had, dancing and catching the latest movies and sampling ethnic food at Orange County’s many street fairs.

Instead, there’d be a little person toddling about, cute and demanding and requiring all Zora’s attention. How was Anya going to handle watching another baby grow and flourish after giving up her own child?

Chapter Eleven

She wasn’t meeting his gaze. Shifting uncomfortably on the waiting room couch, Jack studied the tumble of dark hair that masked Anya’s face.

When he’d entered a few minutes ago, she’d already been sitting there, glaring at her phone. If she’d seen him out of her peripheral vision, she gave no sign. Surely she couldn’t be angry already; she hadn’t heard what he had to say. What was so infuriating?

The nurse had called in another patient ahead of them, leaving them alone. At 6:30 p.m. on a Tuesday, the medical building was nearly empty, and no one was at the reception desk.

Jack decided not to waste this chance to speak to Anya. He’d been anticipating her arguments for days, educating himself about childcare options, talking to staff members both single and married about their biggest parenting challenges and winning Rod’s support, however tentative. If they could get a running start on the issues, they might avoid a painful argument in front of Adrienne.

Not that Jack figured he had much chance of escaping Anya’s wrath. He
had
promised to sign the waiver.

Moving closer, he noticed that, at this angle, her little nose seemed to have wrinkled in disgust. “If it’s that bad, why are you reading it?”

“Excuse me?” Anya glanced up, eyes startled, full lips parted.

He restrained the urge to brush back the sweep of her hair. She hadn’t assisted him in the operating room for a week, which might have been good for his concentration but left him feeling hollow. “You look ready to smash that thing.”

“It’s not the phone. It’s my sister Ruth.” She held up the device, displaying a social media site. He couldn’t read the post, but the accompanying photo showed a woman slightly older than Anya with sterner features on a similar heart-shaped face.

“What’s this dragon done?” Jack asked.

Her faint answering smile faded quickly. “The whole family’s gathering in Colorado for my grandma’s 80th birthday in April. Ruth arbitrarily assigned me to supervise all the babies and children.”

Anya might be suited to the job, given her skill with youngsters, but it was unfair to drop such a big job on her without her consent. Another objection also occurred to Jack. “How does she expect you to arrange all that when you’re out of state?”

“Oh, she’s decided I should arrive a few days early.” Anya scowled at the screen. “And all my cousins have started weighing in with their head counts. So far there are four infants, six toddlers and I’ve lost count of the school-age kids.”

“Why can’t they watch their own children?”

“Because Ruth’s a control freak.” Anya heaved a frustrated sigh. “But if I get into a squabble with her, she’ll lay a guilt trip on me in front of everyone. Plus, my cousins will feel entitled to debate this, as if I were their property.”

Much as Jack would have liked to produce a simple solution, he didn’t have one. Besides, his job was to defend and protect Anya, not mediate a family dispute. “That’s too heavy a burden for you, especially in your condition.”

“They don’t know about my pregnancy and I’m not sure I’m going to tell them.” She closed down the website. “Ruth’s pregnant, too, with her fifth child. I can’t expect any sympathy from her.”

Jack took her hand. “Whatever you decide, let me know how I can help.”

“I’ll have to miss Grandma’s birthday party.” Sadness shaded her gaze. “It’s too stressful.”

“Don’t you want to be there? Turning eighty is a big deal.” Having lost his grandparents when he was young, Jack envied her chance to attend such an event and connect with relatives. But then, Anya couldn’t enjoy the occasion if she was buried in babies.

“I’ll plan a trip to see Grandma later, when we can spend more time together.” Unhappily, Anya added, “It’ll have to be after the baby’s born.”

“Won’t your sister raise a storm over your decision not to attend?”

“I won’t announce it for as long as possible.” Anya stuck the phone in her purse.

She’d mentioned that avoidance was her survival tactic. Jack was beginning to understand why. “That’ll give her even more ammunition to fire in your direction,” he warned.

“By now, Ruth ought to realize she can’t boss me around,” Anya replied. “If she’s surprised by the consequences, that’s her problem.”

The nurse, a short woman with thick glasses, opened the door to the inner sanctum. “Dr. Ryder? Miss Meeks?”

They both rose. Instead of an examining room, though, the nurse escorted them to a small office with
Adrienne Cavill-Hunter, M.D.
on the door. “The doctor will be right with you.”

“Thanks.” Jack held a chair for Anya.

As she slid into it, he noted that her snug T-shirt revealed a still-flat stomach and well-defined breasts enlarged by pregnancy hormones. His body sprang to alert, remembering the feel of them beneath his lips...
Quit staring. And quit thinking about that.

While they waited, Anya studied a wall chart depicting the stages of embryonic growth. Jack didn’t need a reminder that, at ten weeks of development, their baby was about an inch and a half long. This week marked the end of the embryonic period, after which the term
fetus
was used.

It amazed him that the little creature was already becoming the distinctive individual who might live into the next century. He wished he knew exactly when personality manifested itself. Maybe genetics and epigenetics were already kicking in with whatever talents or traits would distinguish this wonderful child.

Jack wished Anya shared his sense of delight. From long habit, she’d schooled her expressive face into a mask. Anger stirred in him at the family members whose tactics had trained her to hide her emotions.

After a light tap, Adrienne breezed into the office, a white coat open over her tweed slacks and tailored blouse. She shook both their hands, then produced printouts. “These are for your files, but I’d suggest not reading them until we review a few details.”

Anya set the papers in her lap. “Such as what?”

“Let’s start with your reason for taking the DNA test. The probability that Jack—Dr. Ryder—is the father,” Adrienne said.

“Yes?” Although he’d more or less taken the answer for granted, Jack felt a tremor of suspense.

“It is 99.9 percent likely.”

His muscles relaxed. This was his baby. Unlike with his uncle’s kids, there remained no risk of confusion or deception.

“You don’t have to tell me,” came Anya’s tart response. “As far as I’m concerned, it’s 100 percent. He’s the one who questioned it.”

Jack ducked his head in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean it that way. But it seemed important to eliminate any doubt.”

Adrienne maintained an air of professional detachment. “This test also reveals the gender of the baby. That’s why I suggested you delay looking at the results, in case you prefer not to know.”

Eager as he was to find out, Jack was willing to wait until he was alone if necessary. “Anya?”

She fingered the paper. “Go ahead. What is it?”

“It’s a girl.” Adrienne waited for their reactions.

“Oh.” That was all Anya said. No indication if that made any difference.

Jack hadn’t cared about the gender, but now the child in his mind came into even sharper focus: a little girl with brown hair and expressive eyes. No one would force her to hold herself back, to guard against emotional manipulation. She’d grow up with parents—
a
parent—who loved her and encouraged her to be herself.

It was still possible she’d be raised by strangers, but he hoped not. If only he could persuade Anya to stop distancing herself from the situation. “You’re allowed to have feelings,” he told her.

She folded the paper. “I do have feelings.”

“So do I.”
Here goes.
“I realize I promised to waive my parental rights—”

She gripped her purse. “Don’t you dare go back on your word!”

Jack made what he hoped was a conciliatory gesture. “I have an alternate proposal.”

Leaning against her desk, Adrienne folded her arms. She didn’t bother to hide her curiosity, but Jack was sure he could count on her impartiality.

Anya swallowed. “I’m listening.”

It was impossible to tell whether anger seethed beneath the surface. Still, having anticipated an immediate fight, Jack appreciated the opportunity to present his case. “I acknowledge that you aren’t prepared to raise a child, with or without my help.”

She cleared her throat. “That’s right.”

“So I’ll raise the baby myself.” Fingering the notes crammed in his pocket—the mere touch seemed to jog his memory—Jack outlined his plan: daycare at the hospital’s child center, a licensed private sitter during his overnight shift in labor and delivery and off-hours backup provided by Rod. “I don’t underestimate the challenges, but lots of single parents cope, and I will, too.”

“I can recommend a licensed sitter that my husband and I trust with our little boy,” Adrienne said. “However, I strongly advise counseling. This is a major decision.”

“I hate counselors,” Anya said. “They make you confront things.”

“You can have as much or as little involvement as you like, Anya,” Jack said. “If you want to make things official, you can sign a waiver of parental rights.”

“I should point out that you can’t waive your financial obligation to the child,” Adrienne warned her patient. “A lawyer can give you the whole picture.”

“Your attorney, Edmond, seems reliable,” Jack agreed. For some reason, he trusted the fellow.

Anya’s shoulders hunched. What did that mean, he wondered.

“There’s no need to decide now,” Adrienne said. “The baby isn’t due for over six months.”

“I want this settled.” Anya regarded Jack sternly. “What if something happens to you? With an adoptive family, she’d have two parents.”

“Adoptive couples aren’t immune to issues like divorce, illness and death,” he reminded her. “And I’ll appoint a guardian, just in case.”

“Your uncle?” she asked dubiously.

“He’s willing, and he has parenting experience.” Jack returned to the main issue. “Honey, I love this baby. Maybe that sounds crazy because she isn’t born yet, and I wasn’t expecting to be a father, but I love her.”

“An adoption means a clean break,” Anya said slowly. “If you raised her, you’d still see me as backup.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“What if she gets sick?” she challenged. “What if Rod isn’t around when you need him? I’d be mommy on call.”

“That’s not true.”

“How can you be sure?” She didn’t sound argumentative; she appeared almost regretful, in truth.

Jack struggled to marshal his arguments. But what if she was right?

“This decision deserves more consideration,” Adrienne repeated. “You don’t have to resolve it now.”

Her presence, initially helpful, was beginning to chafe on Jack. “If you have a patient waiting, you can go.”

“I allowed extra time for this consult,” the doctor assured him. “I’m fine.”

Too bad.
Jack could see Anya’s uncertainty, but if they delayed this conversation, her default position—just say no and run for cover—would kick in.

To him, the fact that she hadn’t immediately rejected his plan indicated that her determination to give the baby up had softened. All the same, Jack respected her right to say no.

And her objections had merit. How
could
he be sure he’d keep her out of the picture while raising their daughter? There was no way to try things out in advance. Or was there?

The last time they’d had a serious disagreement, Anya had put him to a test of sorts to earn the right to have her take the DNA test. Jack hadn’t minded shopping and handling other chores; he wished she’d requested more, in fact. Although he couldn’t prove that he’d keep his end of this new bargain, a good-faith attempt might reassure her. And it’d be a learning experience for him, too.

He dove in. “Let me prove that I won’t lean on you. That I can handle extra pressure at home and not give in to frustration or dump my problems on you.”

“How?”

“A few weeks ago, you gave me a challenge,” he reminded her. “Let’s agree on another one. I’ll cook for your entire household for two weeks. That includes shopping and paying for the food.”

Adrienne blinked. “That’s quite an offer.”

“I don’t see what difference it would make,” Anya said doggedly.

“Some nights I’ll be tired and cranky, and I’ll have to field the demands of a bunch of people.” As he spoke, Jack reflected that he wasn’t sure
how
he’d deal with the sometimes irritating group of housemates. But if he couldn’t, maybe he wasn’t cut out for single fatherhood. “It’ll be a test for my own information as well as yours.”

She seemed to be weighing his offer. “Why two weeks?”

“Two weeks from now is the earliest we can schedule an ultrasound, right?” He looked to Adrienne for confirmation.

“That’s correct, doctor,” she said.

Jack plowed onward. “At that time, maybe the best course of action will be clear to both of us.” He didn’t believe he’d change his mind. But when Jack had asked for Rod’s cooperation, his uncle had pointed out that being a parent was harder than most people expected.

The nurse knocked, then looked in. “Doctor? The next patient is prepped.”

Jack got to his feet. “Thanks, Adrienne. You’ve been great.” And she had, despite his internal carping.

“Good luck to both of you,” she said. “Since it’s after hours, Eva will have to get back to you about scheduling the ultrasound.”

“It’s okay if Zora does it,” Anya told the nurse. “If that simplifies the scheduling.”

Eva nodded. “Okay.”

Was Anya agreeing to his proposal? Jack wondered as he accompanied her out through the waiting room. Or was she saving her refusal for when they were alone?

* * *

A
NYA
’
S
HEART
CONTRACTED
. She was carrying a little girl like Tiffany or Amber or like Anya’s two-year-old niece, Kiki, a sensitive child who seemed lost among her three siblings. After Christmas dinner, Kiki had nestled in her aunt’s lap, content to watch the world go by from the safety of Anya’s arms.