Harlequin American Romance May 2014 Bundle: One Night in Texas\The Cowboy's Destiny\A Baby for the Doctor\The Bull Rider's Family (49 page)

“You should discuss this with your doctor,” Jack told Melissa.

“I have. Dr. Sargent says if I choose to go ahead, he’s fine with it.” Melissa pulled back her long, honey-blond hair and re-clipped it with her barrette. “I wish this weren’t so sudden, but I have to give them an answer. Also, I’ll need to start taking medications right away to go through the procedure this cycle.”

That
was
soon. “It isn’t right for them to pressure you,” Anya said.

“But it’s a miraculous offer. Still, having triplets could be overwhelming in a lot of ways.” Melissa regarded Jack as if he possessed magical insight. “How likely is it that they’d all take?”

“Frozen embryo transfers at Safe Harbor have about a fifty percent success rate,” he said. “I’m sure Zack Sargent went over that with you.”

“Yes, but he tends to be gung ho about the egg donor program,” she replied frankly. “I want an objective opinion.”

All eyes fixed on Jack.

Anya wondered if he could be truly objective, considering his desire to raise junior-ette.

“It’s unlikely that all three embryos will implant,” he said thoughtfully. “However, since you can’t discount the possibility, you’d better be prepared. You should consider your physical condition, your motivation and your support system, and whether they’re able to handle three children at once.”

“Support system is fine,” Karen announced.

“I’m grateful for my friends, and I’m in good physical shape.” Melissa swallowed. “As for raising three little guys, well, I’d be lucky if that happened.”

“They might be born early,” Jack warned. “What if there are complications?”

“If she obsesses about everything that can go wrong, she’ll never have kids,” Lucky countered.

“That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t consider all the risks,” Zora argued. “I remember when one of the nurses provided eggs for a surrogate. She went through a grueling regimen, with all kinds of hormones. There were some serious dangers, too.”

“A frozen embryo transfer is much less stressful than an egg donation,” Jack responded. “It takes less medication to prepare the uterine lining than to stimulate the ovaries.” He glanced quickly at Anya. “I’m not sure this is the best topic for dinner-table conversation, though.”

“That’s okay. I’m finished eating,” she said.

“There,” Lucky announced triumphantly. “As I said, there’s no reason to obsess about dangers.”

“What about the risk of having triplets?” Zora returned Lucky’s frown and doubled it. “
Somebody
has to remind her of the down side.”

“And
somebody
has done that plenty,” he snapped.

Rod waggled his eyebrows. “Shall we have fisticuffs for our postprandial entertainment? I’ll referee.”

Karen chuckled.

“Thanks for your input, Jack,” Melissa said. “And you too, Zora. You’re right. It’s important to consider all sides.”

“Speaking of sides, what’s for dessert?” Rod rounded his eyes at his nephew.

“That was probably the most tortured segue I’ve ever heard,” Jack answered. “In case you guys hadn’t guessed, my uncle will bend a conversation like a pretzel to get to dessert.”

“What
is
for dessert?” Lucky asked.

“Yes, Jack, what’s for dessert?” Karen teased.

“If you guys can’t read a menu, you don’t deserve any apple pie.” Jack pushed his chair back.

“I’ll clear!” That was Lucky.

“I’ll serve!” Karen added.

“Where’s the pie?” Rod, of course.

Grinning at the surge of responses, Jack said, “In the fridge,” and nearly got trampled by the herd stampeding past him into the kitchen.

Anya followed more slowly with a couple of serving dishes. Jack’s debut as household chef had been a triumph. Too much of a triumph, in her opinion.

She hadn’t considered that this test might bring him closer to her housemates. Already they were looking to him for advice, accepting him as an arbiter of sorts. Although she couldn’t help being proud of him, what would it be like if he was raising their baby?

She’d have a hard enough time staying away from Jack and the child on her own. Now her friends were becoming his friends, too.

She’d left Colorado to preserve her freedom. Come September and the baby’s delivery, would she have to leave Safe Harbor, too?

Chapter Thirteen

Jack’s surgeries ran longer than expected on Friday morning. Because he saw patients in the afternoon, he decided to skip lunch rather than postpone appointments. “Also, that would make me late for fixing dinner,” he remarked as he washed up, speaking as much to himself as to his uncle.

“Unacceptable, since we might have guests,” Rod responded, though his recent upbeat attitude was blunted by uncertainty. The girls were expected to arrive today, but Helen hadn’t been sure when or whether they’d be flying, taking the train or traveling by car.

“I was planning on them joining us tomorrow night,” Jack said.

“Why not both meals?”

That meant making larger dishes, with a possible extra supermarket run. Rod had eaten with the household all week, which had increased Jack’s work, but ultimately he approved. He was glad to see his uncle’s friendship with Karen blossoming. And Jack hadn’t been entirely comfortable with abandoning his uncle at dinnertime for two weeks.

So far, the meals had gone smoothly, aside from Zora’s dismay on Tuesday when he’d fixed asparagus, which she hated. There’d also been a touch of awkwardness last night when he preheated the oven for lasagna and discovered belatedly that it was filled with soiled plates and cups, now burning hot.

Flustered, Zora and Anya had admitted hiding their breakfast dishes in the oven because they’d been running late and hadn’t had time to empty the dishwasher. “It’s a house rule,” Anya had informed him. “We can’t leave stuff on the counter.”

“We didn’t think about you using the oven,” Zora had added.

“You should have looked inside before you turned it on.” Anya had crossed her arms. “Imagine what a toddler might have put in there.”

Jack had agreed and resignedly used pot holders to empty the oven.

But now, as he removed his surgical gloves, he realized that he was far less concerned about kitchen mishaps than about Anya’s stubbornness in holding him at arm’s length. Although his primary goal in serving as cook was to prove his readiness to be a dad, he’d hoped the experience might draw them closer.

He could have sworn she also longed to be closer. Those sideways glances, the teasing tension between them and, more important, the moments when they simply talked. They’d discovered they shared a fondness for nature documentaries on TV, especially those featuring birds, although neither had ever owned a pet bird.

“I’d rather watch them in the wild,” Anya had said. “I think there are birds nesting in Karen’s bushes and maybe out in the estuary.”

He’d loaned her his binoculars so she could sit on the patio, put up her feet and bird-watch. After dinner one night, they’d sat outside, taking turns observing the birds and occasionally looking up details on their phones. They’d agreed that a hummingbird might be nesting in one of the honeysuckle bushes, especially because when Jack approached for a closer look, it had dive-bombed him with a sharp noise that warned him to retreat. He did, to Anya’s amusement.

Yet when he’d suggested they bird-watch again last night, she’d declined and made a vague reference to having plans with Zora—pulling back, just when he’d hoped the barriers between them were falling.

Jack brought himself up sharply. Anya was honest about her approach to emotional attachments: when things got tough, cut and run. Much as he longed for her to stay in his life, as a resource for the baby and for other, very personal reasons, he’d better remember that in the end, she’d leave. She might not even give him warning. She still hadn’t informed her sister about skipping their grandmother’s birthday party next month. Unless Ruth had picked up the signs—which surely she ought to—she was in for an unpleasant last-minute shift in arrangements.

So far, Anya was running true to form. Only a fool would assume she’d change.

“Since you’re feeding me dinner, I suppose I could bring lunch to your office this afternoon,” Rod commented as they sauntered out of the operating suite.

“Tuna melt,” Jack said.

“Kind of late for the cafeteria to fix a hot sandwich.”

“Cold tuna on rye will be fine.”

“Done.”

On the main floor, Jack let his uncle precede him out of the elevator but nearly ran into the slightly shorter man when he stopped suddenly. “Hey!”

Rod didn’t answer. He’d gone rigid.

Near the entrance to the fertility support services suite, a cluster of familiar figures caught Jack’s eye. Hospital administrator Mark Rayburn, M.D., distinguished by his thick, black hair and the build of a former high school football player, dominated the group. Karen stood out, too, with her black-and-white coiffure. But it was their companions who’d surely riveted Rod’s attention.

Vince Adams lacked Mark’s height, but he stood out anyway. Maybe it was his aggressive stance—feet planted apart, head up and nostrils slightly flared—or the pin-striped dark suit that looked as if it had cost thousands of dollars.

Beside him, lean and fashionable in a hot-pink designer dress and jacket, Portia stood poised in her high heels. She must be about thirty-eight now, Jack figured, but already her unlined forehead and cheeks hinted at Botox injections. The bright red hair that Tiff had inherited had been tinted auburn and woven with strands of gold and honey-brown.

He’d seen photos of the pair in a magazine, portrayed as a beautiful power couple. To Jack, they seemed hard, with an underlying cruelty that flickered like hellfire through the cracks in their veneer. But that was because he’d witnessed how they’d manipulated the legal system.

Rod had no gift for disguising his emotions. Even from behind, his taut body language told Jack he was glowering.

“Hang in there,” he murmured to his uncle.

Judging by her uneasy expression, Portia had spotted them. So had Karen, although she betrayed only a flicker of recognition.

When Vince turned, triumph distorted his features. He not only loved winning, but he also enjoyed grinding his opponent’s face into the dirt. Obviously, he and his wife had become suspicious about the girls’ behavior, which accounted for their visit to Safe Harbor. But why were they at the hospital?

The administrator didn’t miss the tense, silent interchange. A furrow between the eyebrows was all the sign he gave, however, that it concerned him.

“If it isn’t Dr. Vintner.” Vince just couldn’t let the moment pass, could he? “Good to see you again.” His sneering tone converted the pleasantry into an insult.

“The pleasure’s all yours,” Rod growled.

“I didn’t realize you were acquainted with members of my staff, Mr. Adams,” Mark said.

“Rod is my ex-husband.” Portia blinked as if startled. “Jack? I had no idea you were back in Safe Harbor.”

“Hello, Aunt Portia.” Jack strained for civility. “I’ve been here for two years now.”

“Jack’s a fine surgeon,” Mark said. “The head of our fertility program, Dr. Owen Tartikoff, brought him on board.”

“Does Jack work with Dr. Rattigan?” Vince addressed his question to the administrator.

Cole Rattigan, Lucky’s boss, was a world-renowned specialist in male fertility. Did Vince, who reputedly was unable to father children, plan to consult him?

“I’m an ob-gyn,” Jack said.

“I take it that means no.” Vince kept his eyes on the administrator. “Now, what about those cutting-edge labs you mentioned?”

“They’re on the next floor down,” Mark said. “Karen, thanks for reviewing our egg donor program.”

“Glad to do it. Nice meeting you, Mr. and Mrs. Adams.” Karen shook their hands, then tossed off a quick, “Doctors,” with a nod to Jack and Rod, before vanishing into her suite.

Since Rod remained frozen between the visitors and the elevators, Jack touched his arm to interrupt his fixation. “You owe me a sandwich.”

Rod was vibrating with unspoken rage. But after a moment, he took a few steps to the side, no doubt in deference to the administrator.

As the trio passed, Mark kept up a running narration to the visitors. “Our original plan called for acquiring the dental building across the plaza. When it fell into protracted bankruptcy proceedings, we had to improvise. That’s why our fertility offices are scattered across several floors. We installed the laboratories in our basement.”

“Doesn’t a basement mean problems with dampness and mold?” Vince swaggered by as if Rod weren’t there. Portia spared a thoughtful glance for Jack.

“We’ve installed advanced HEPA filtration systems.” The administrator pressed the down button. “The temperatures and sterility are strictly regulated. I’ll let Alec Denny, our director of laboratories, provide the details.”

To Jack’s relief, the elevator arrived, and he was able to lead his uncle away at last. “That was a shock,” he said once the others were out of hearing range.

Rod moved stiffly. “They’re here to spy on me.”

“Surely they wouldn’t waste Dr. Rayburn’s time to do that,” Jack said.

“Oh, but they love to gloat.” Unhappily his uncle added, “This means no more time with my daughters.”

“Not for a while,” Jack agreed.

Rod rolled his shoulders, fighting the tension. “Don’t you have patients waiting?”

“Yes, actually. See you later. Tuna on rye.” As he headed for the adjacent office building, Jack was glad they’d be having dinner with Karen. She might have insights to share.

As for Tiff and Amber, he hated missing a chance to see them. But they were aware now that Rod and Jack loved them.

Vince and Portia couldn’t keep them apart forever.

* * *

“T
HEY
’
VE
RENTED
A
beach house a few miles from here, on the Balboa Peninsula,” Karen said that night over a serving of Jack’s peanut butter pasta. “Portia seemed genuinely worried about how much her mother misses her granddaughters.”

“Worried or guilty?” Rod asked dourly.

Even with seven of them around the table, Anya was keenly aware of the girls’ absence. She’d been looking forward to seeing them tonight or tomorrow, or both. Having grown up in a family of nine, sometimes she missed the joyous babble, the give-and-take of a group where interactions crisscrossed like global airline traffic lines on a grid.

“It does reduce the risk that Tiff will run away again,” Jack ventured, although the situation had clearly put a damper on his mood, too.

“Why were they at the hospital?” Anya asked. “Dr. Rayburn doesn’t give tours to the general public.”

“They were dropping hints about some type of endowment,” Karen said.

“It’s a ruse to spy on me,” Rod replied angrily.

“Maybe Vince just wants to move to the head of the line for a consult with Cole Rattigan,” Jack said. “I understand he books up months in advance.”

“Oh, he tries to work in any patient who’s in urgent need.” Lucky plucked a second dinner roll from a basket. “Of course, if they
had
come to the office, I couldn’t mention it.”

“Is that a no-they-didn’t or are you obfuscating?” Zora asked.

“Is he doing what?” In contrast to the generally downbeat mood, Melissa sounded amused. Her spirits had lifted since she’d begun receiving injections of estrogen and progesterone in preparation for receiving the embryos.

“Confusing the issue,” Zora translated.

“No one’s confused about anything except your weird word choice,” Lucky batted back.

“I thought you two had stopped picking on each other. Just spare the rest of us, okay?” Karen promptly returned to the subject of the day. “When Portia mentioned her daughters, I suggested they might enjoy volunteering at the hospital. I said our program encourages an interest in science.”

“How’d that go over?” Jack asked.

“She seemed interested.”

“And Vince?”

“Not so much.”

“It’ll never happen.” Agitated, Rod glared across the table at Anya. “I don’t understand why people fail to appreciate parenthood when it falls in their lap.”

“Excuse me?” Jack asked.

Anya was grateful for the sharp response. Her pregnancy was none of his uncle’s business.

“You heard me.” For whatever reason, Rod continued to target his anger at her. “Why are you forcing my nephew to prove himself over and over? Just sign that waiver you considered such a minor detail when the shoe was on the other foot.”

“Butt out,” Anya said, summing up her position.

Around the table, the others regarded Rod with varying degrees of disapproval. Lucky’s face tightened, Melissa stopped smiling, Zora frowned and even Karen looked distressed.

“You’re a fine one to talk,” Jack put in. “When I proposed bringing the baby to live with us, you brought up every obstacle in the book.”

“I had to be sure you meant it,” retorted his uncle. “Obviously, you did. And to keep your own mother ignorant of it—”

“What are you talking about?” Storm clouds darkened Jack’s eyes.

“You hadn’t told Mamie you’re going to be a father.”

“My absentee mom who didn’t even stick around to raise me?” he snapped. “Why should I?”

“She’s older now, and she has regrets.”

“Where is this coming from?” Jack regarded his uncle sternly. “I thought you and your sister communicated by exchanging Christmas cards.”

“I gave her a call to catch up on things,” Rod said. “You should talk to her more often yourself.”

Although pleased to no longer be the object of Rod’s tirade, Anya resented his criticism of Jack. Honestly, just because the man was upset didn’t give him the right to scattershot his anger at everyone else.

“Wait a minute.” Jack’s jaw pushed forward belligerently. “You called to catch up, or to tell her Anya’s pregnant? That takes one hell of a nerve!”

“After what happened today...” Rod seemed, for the first time, to notice the negative reactions from the others. Stubbornly, he persisted. “It struck me that Mamie might never have another chance to be a grandmother. She deserves to be in the loop.”

“No,” Jack said. “She doesn’t.”

“Well, too late.” His uncle swallowed. “We hadn’t been in touch for a while, so I called her.”

Fury radiated from Jack. “This is Anya’s and my concern. Not yours, and not my mother’s.”

“It is now.” Rod cleared his throat. “She was deciding whether to attend a conference in LA next week and this tipped the scale.”