Her Hard to Resist Husband (21 page)

“Two to four hours.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s going on three hours now. We should be hearing something fairly soon.”

Two to four hours. Such a short time. And yet it seemed like for ever.

Unable to sit still, he settled for pacing while Sam remained in his seat. Ben had already made all kinds of deals with God, so many he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep track. But Tracy had been so sure of this, so at peace with her decision in the past week.

A green-suited man came around the corner, a surgical mask dangling around his neck. “Mr. Almeida?”

Ben moved towards him, Sam following close behind. The surgeon frowned, but Ben nodded. “This is Tracy’s dad. He’s just arrived in town.”

The man nodded. “The surgery went fine. I didn’t see any definite areas of malignancy, but I’m sending everything off to pathology for testing just in case.”

“Tracy’s okay, then?” Ben didn’t want to hear about malignancies or what they had or hadn’t found.

“She’s fine.” The man hesitated. “Reconstruction shouldn’t be a problem. We’d like to keep her here for a day or two to observe her, however. Will she have someone to help her at home afterwards?”

“Yes.” Ben’s and Sam’s answers came on top of the other, causing all of them to smile.

Ben finished. “We’ll make sure she gets everything she needs.” He knew the kids would both be beside themselves, desperate for a chance to talk to Tracy. But he’d left them in
Teresina
, in Rosa’s care—though he’d realized the irony of it. Kids survived. And these two kids had survived more than most…more than he’d ever had to, even on his worst days.

“Good,” the surgeon said. “Give us a few minutes to get her settled then someone will come and get you. Please, don’t stay long, though. She needs to rest.”

Ben held out a hand. “Thank you. For everything.”

The surgeon nodded then shook each of their hands and headed back in the direction from which he’d come. Before he rounded the corner, though, he turned and came back. “I wanted to tell you what a brave young woman Tracy is. I don’t know how much you’ve talked about everything, but whether you agree with her decision or not it was ultimately up to her. Support her in it.”

“Absolutely.” Ben wasn’t planning on doing anything else. He’d spend the rest of his days supporting whatever decisions she made. He was just grateful to have her back.

“Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome. Take care.” This time the surgeon didn’t look back but disappeared around the corner.

“Why don’t you go back and see her first?” Ben told Sam.

“My face is not the one she’ll want to see when she wakes up. There’s plenty of time.”

Yes, there was. Ben swallowed. “Thank you. I’ll tell her you’re here.”

* * *

Sleep
.

That’s all Tracy wanted to do, but something warm curled around her hand and gave a soft squeeze. Someone said her name in a low, gravelly voice she should recognize.

Did
recognize.

“Trace.”

There it was again. Her heart warmed despite the long shivers taking hold of her body. She was cold. Freezing. Her body fought back, shuddering against the sensation.

Something settled over her. A blanket?

She focused on her eyelids, trying to convince them to part—wanted to put a hand to her chest to see if they were still there.

Oh, God. Moisture flared behind still closed lids and leaked out the sides.

“Tracy.” Warm fingers threaded through her own. “You’re okay. Safe. I’m here.”

She wanted to believe. But she was afraid the last year had all been a dream. At least the blanket was starting to warm her just a bit.

Her throat ached. From the tube she’d had down her throat.

Wait. Tube?

Yes, from the surgery. Ben was here. Somewhere. He promised to be here when she woke up.

So why was she even doubting she’d heard his voice?

Okay. Moment of truth.

Eyelids…open.

As if by magic, they parted and the first thing she saw was the face. The gorgeous face that matched that low, sexy voice. Broad shoulders stretched wide against the fabric of his shirt. Ruffled brown hair that looked like he’d shoved fingers through it repeatedly, a piece in the back sticking straight up.

Long, dark lashes. Strong throat. Gentle hands.

Her husband.

“Ben?” The sound rasped out of her throat as if coated by rough sandpaper—and feeling like it as well.

“I’m here.”

Yes, it was Ben. He was here. Crying?

Oh, God.
He was crying because she no longer had breasts. No, that wasn’t it. They’d made this decision together. Had they found something during the surgery?

She tried to glance down at herself, but everything was buried under a thick layer of blankets. But there was no pain. Could the surgeon not have taken them?

“Are they…?”

“Shh. You’re fine.”

Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her fuzzy head. “The kids?”

“I spoke to Rosa a few minutes ago. They’re fine. They miss you.”

I miss you.

Her lips curved as she remembered Ben saying those very words as she’d stood in the doorway of his office a year ago. That he’d actually called her—wanted her to come home—was a memory she’d treasure for ever.

Where was the pain? Shouldn’t it hurt to have something sliced off your body?

“I miss the kids, too.”

He smiled and smoothed strands of hair back from her face. “Your dad’s here. They’ll only let one of us in at a time, and he insisted you’d want to see me first.”

“He was right.”

Lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed the top of it. His touch was as warm as his voice. “I love you, Tracy. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life showing you how much.”

She closed her eyes, only to have to force them open again. “I like the sound of that.”

One of the nurses appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “We probably need to let Mrs. Almeida get some sleep.”

“Mrs. Almeida.” Tracy murmured the words as her eyelids once again began to flicker shut. She loved having his name.

Almost as much as she loved the man who’d given it to her.

EPILOGUE

T
HE
SUNRISE
WAS
gorgeous, a blazing red ball of fire tossed just above the horizon by the hand of God.

Today promised to be a scorcher—just like most days in
Teresina
. And she relished each and every one of them. Curling her hands around the railing of the deck off their bedroom, Tracy let the warmth of the wood sink into her palms and gave a quiet sigh of contentment. She loved these kinds of mornings.

Five years since her surgery and no sign of cancer.

Tracy was thrilled to be a part of Crista Morena’s thriving pediatric practice. And twice a year she and Ben took a trip along the Amazon to do relief work. Together. Something that might have been impossible in the past.

A pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, sliding beneath the hem of her white camisole and tickling the skin of her tummy. She made a quiet sound, putting her hands over his and holding him close. Leaning her head against her husband’s chest, she thought about how truly blessed she was.

Except for one thing.

“I miss Daniel.” The wistfulness in her heart came through in her voice.

Their adopted son had left for college in the States last month and was busy studying to be a doctor—hoping to return to Brazil and help people in communities like Sao Joao dos Rios. His mother would be so very proud of the man her son had become. The four of them had made several trips back to the kids’ home town, and although the razed village was sad testament to what had happened there, it was also a place of joy. A place of new beginnings.

They’d had a permanent stone marker made and had placed it on Maria Eugenia’s grave—although both Daniel and Cleo had decided the crude rock Ben had carved should remain there as well.

They’d also made a pact to go back once a year to put flowers on her grave.

Cleo, now thirteen, was growing into a beautiful young woman who was sensitive and wise beyond her years. All too soon she’d be grown as well, leaving them to start a life of her own.

“We can always phone Daniel later this afternoon.” Ben planted cool lips on her neck.

“We’ll wait for Cleo to get home from school. I can’t believe how fast time has gone by.”

“I’m grateful for every moment.” His lips continued to glide up her neck until he reached her earlobe, biting gently.

She shivered, her body reacting instantly, the way it always did for this man. “So am I.”

A thin cry came from the back of the house. Tracy squinched her nose and sighed. “So is someone else.”

Their baby girl, just three months old, was letting them know she was hungry. Although she would never replace the baby they’d lost all those years ago, trying to have another child had seemed the right thing to do. Tracy was grateful for second chances, no matter how they came.

Ben had taken a little more coaxing—a year to be exact. He’d been worried about the ramifications to her health, but in the end he’d agreed. And Grace Elizabeth Almeida had come into the world kicking and screaming.

Someone ready to take on the universe and everything it held.

“I guess we’d better go feed her before she gets really wound up.” Ben turned her in his arms and nipped her lower lip. “Although I was hoping we might get a little alone time. Just this once.”

“Don’t worry, Ben. We have plenty of time. Our whole lives, in fact.”

Tracy sighed, her happiness complete. She had everything she could possibly want out of life. She and Ben had found their middle ground, despite seemingly impossible odds. And she’d discovered there was more than one path to happiness, as long as the man she loved was by her side. And as her three children had taught her, there was definitely more than one way to make a family.

* * * * *

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ISBN-13: 9781460324790

HER HARD TO RESIST HUSBAND

Copyright (c) 2014 by Tina Beckett

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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