McCallum Quintuplets (11 page)

She sucked in a breath. Surely he didn't mean…her? Good night, the intensity in those deep brown eyes was enough to make her melt right there on the spot.

Her heart pumped, and she couldn't have broken eye contact if somebody had shouted Code Blue.

Then, as though he hadn't just looked clear into her heart and soul, he swung an arm around her shoulders and headed her out of the surgery room.

“You did a great job, Annabelle. I always know I can count on you. What do you say we go talk to the family and let them admire and praise our skills?”

“Nothing wrong with your ego,” she remarked, wishing he'd remove his arm. She was entirely too young to have heart failure.

And she had a sudden and horrible feeling her heart was definitely in danger—and had been since the day Dr. Zachary Beaumont had accepted the position at the clinic.

 

Z
ACH WASN'T SURPRISED
when he walked into the waiting room and saw that it was filled to capacity. Adam must still be with Maggie, helping her settle in recovery, because the minute he and Annabelle cleared the doorway, everyone jumped up and flocked to them like worried hens.

Jackson McCallum led the pack. He was fifty-eight, with salt-and-pepper hair and a razor-sharp business sense that Zach appreciated. Zach admired anyone who was disciplined and exuded confidence. Aside from that, Jackson McCallum had donated the special wing that Zach worked in at Maitland Maternity.

“Maggie? Is she all right?”

Annabelle moved forward, easily slipping her arm around Jackson, offering her special brand of comfort. Zach had seen her do it countless times. There was a special quality about her, an easiness that drew people, soothed them.

“She's right as rain, Jackson. You have five healthy
grandbabies, although they'll be in NICU for a while yet. We can't say how long. Two girls and three boys. Good-size babies for being early.” She rattled off their weights.

That was a female thing, Zach decided. He'd heard the nurses giving the weights, but he didn't recall the specifics of each baby, or which one weighed which. Annabelle knew right down to the sex.

She amazed him. He knew she was young—twenty-three. The youngest one at Maitland Maternity, but not immature. Just the opposite. He often forgot their age difference. She was the most efficient nurse he'd ever worked with, always one step ahead of him. It was uncanny how she finished his sentences and handed him instruments before he could even form the words to ask.

So, what the hell had just happened back there in the surgery room? He'd looked at her,
really
looked at her, and he hadn't been able to break the contact.

Her blond hair was streaked with highlights, her soft Texas drawl reminding him of a bluesy sax traversing a range of emotions that left the listener spellbound, hanging on every note.

And her smile. Why hadn't he ever noticed how it lit up not only her face, but those incredible green eyes? She radiated a confidence and joy that were hard to resist.

She was competent, serene, sexy and…fun.

Dammit, he was just tired. He wasn't attracted to Annabelle Reardon.

And that was a bald-faced lie.

The truth was, he didn't
want
to be attracted to her. She was way too young for him. His work was his life. He didn't have time for relationships. Oh, he dated. But the women he dated were only looking for a wealthy doctor to show off on their arm. Eye candy. A term usually reserved for a woman. But that's pretty much what he
was to the women he escorted to fancy see-and-be-seen places.

Annabelle wouldn't be interested in a casual, shallow relationship.

She was the nurturing type who would want home, husband and babies. And that wasn't his gig.

“Let's go over to the Lone Star steak house and celebrate with a round of drinks,” Madeline Russell suggested. She was the fertility specialist on Maggie and Adam's case, and she'd recently gotten married. Since he hadn't attended the wedding, he didn't know any of the particulars.

There were changes since her marriage, though. She was softer, more feminine, had stopped wearing those oversize tent dresses that hid her figure. And she wore her long black hair flowing down her back, not scraped into a matronly bun or tight braid. Happiness and a womanly confidence that comes from sex and knowing you're loved glowed on her face.

Man alive, it seemed love was in the air with half his colleagues taking the matrimonial walk down the aisle. Had someone put something in the drinking fountain at the clinic? Just in case, Zach decided he'd bring bottled water from now on.

Voices buzzed around him, and everyone enthusiastically agreed that a celebration was in order.

“I'm not sure I can make it,” he said. He usually made it a point to keep his distance from his co-workers.

“Oh, come on, Zach,” Annabelle said. “All work and no play isn't good for you. You were part of the team. One drink won't kill you.”

Yeah, but watching Annabelle all night, with her bright smile and shining green eyes, might.

Annabelle stopped by the NICU unit before she left to join the others at the Lone Star. Beepers screamed constantly, indicating that a baby might be having a crisis, and nurses hurried to check. The kids were impossibly small but perfectly formed, the equipment around them enormous.

April McCallum was tending to the quintuplets with her usual innate experience, all the while giving instructions to the nurses who would take over when she left. Every time Annabelle came into the unit, she was impressed by the efficiency, by the awesome miracles that came about in this very room.

They'd had babies in here weighing less than a can of green beans. She was continually awed by April's skill in changing minuscule diapers. And it was indeed a skill.

She stopped beside April, smiled at the quints who were sprawled in little isolettes equipped with oxygen hoods, their incredibly tiny bodies hooked up to monitors and wires and IVs. They weren't wrapped tightly in blankets like most newborns. Instead, they wore only tiny diapers, their chests bare to accommodate all the monitoring apparatus necessary to insure their progress in adjusting to their new world.

Such a shame that kids this tiny had to fight so hard for life.

“How are they doing?” she asked.

“Good,” April said. “For preemie quints, they're big babies, which gives them a leg up. They'll be here for a while, though.”

Which would be difficult for Maggie and Adam. Each day, Annabelle saw parents leaving the hospital with their arms empty, watching with sad, fearful faces as other proud, joyful parents happily whisked their newborns through those same doors, carrying flowers and balloons and struggling with car seats.

She'd seen them trying not to stare, imagined that they were happy for the other couples but perhaps wondering if that joyous day would ever come for them. Would their tiny, premature babies with underdeveloped lungs and other problems ever make it out these doors? Annabelle could hardly comprehend how parents could go through so much turmoil.

“How did you do it, April?”

“Do what?”

“Leave your four babies here every day and go home alone? Without them?”

April sighed and smiled. “It nearly tore my heart out. But since I work here, I got to see them more often than most parents.”

Eight months ago, when a teenage mother had given birth to quads, the girl had known she couldn't care for four sick babies and had left them at the hospital with a note begging April to adopt them. April had fallen in love with those children on sight, as though they'd come from her own womb. When Matthew, the smallest, had been kidnapped, she'd been absolutely distraught until the baby boy was safely back in the hospital.

All had ended well. April and Caleb McCallum were happily married, and the adoption of the quads—two identical boys and two identical girls—was nearing the final stages. They'd even accepted the birth mother into their lives, proving what an incredible capacity they had to give love.

Annabelle dragged her gaze from the quintuplets and focused on the nurse. “Speaking of spending time in the NICU, what are you doing here? I know darn well you quit after you took the babies home.”

“I promised Maggie and Adam I'd be here for their babies. My own little brood are in good hands, being spoiled by their aunties.”

Annabelle smiled. “So are you going to take advantage of the night off and join us at the Lone Star for a celebration drink?”

“I hadn't heard about the plans.”

“Madeline just suggested it in the waiting room. Caleb was there and he didn't object.”

“It would be nice to have my husband to myself for a little while. Does that sound awful?”

“Of course not. You need a break every once in a while. Even if you only stay for one drink, you should come.”

“You talked me into it. If Caleb agrees, we'll be there with bells on.”

“Great. I just love a big party.”

“Will Zach be there?”

Annabelle looked away, focusing on one of the kids. “Um, I think so.”

“He was just in here a minute ago, right before you came in. He didn't say anything about going.”

“Actually, he was trying to get out of it. I think I persuaded him otherwise.”

April grinned. “Figured you would.”

“Oh, stop. There's nothing going on between us.”

“I have eyes, girl.”

Annabelle turned toward the door. “Yeah, well, you better go get them checked then. I'll see you at the Lone Star.”

“I'll be there…with my twenty-twenty vision.”

Annabelle groaned. Was she that obvious? This wasn't the first time her friends had teased her about Dr. Zachary Beaumont. She'd have to watch her step.

After changing clothes, she made her way downstairs to the front exit of the hospital, waving to the receptionist as she let herself out the glass doors.

A blast of warm air swirled around her as she left the air-conditioned interior of the hospital. She'd walked to work this morning, and stopping at the NICU prevented her from hitching a ride with anyone to the Lone Star.

That was fine, though. The restaurant was just down the street a ways.

Enjoying the balmy August air, she headed along Mayfair Avenue, threading her arms through her backpack purse. Now that the sun had gone down, the awful humidity had abated somewhat. Still, her cotton tank top clung to her body, and her jeans felt like damp heat magnets. At least the restaurant would be cool.

She glanced up when a flashy Mercedes cruised by.

Zach's Mercedes. The tinted windows prevented her from seeing if he had anyone with him.

Her pulse elevated, and her steps picked up a bit. Why was she so obsessed with him lately? She'd been working with him for eight months and had managed to control her crush. Now, every time she handed him an instrument or met his dark brown eyes over the surgeon's mask, her knees went weak.

She'd never been a silly girl, given to fantasizing about men, but Zachary Beaumont had obviously jump-started
her libido—even though he hadn't given her the slightest indication that he might be interested.

Except with that heated eye contact they'd made after delivering the quints. But that could have been her imagination.

And why would he be interested in her, anyway? Hospital gossip linked him to a different society girl every other week.

Still, she was having more and more difficulty corralling her fantasies lately. Which was ridiculous. Despite the attraction, the man had three strikes against him right off the bat.

He was a doctor, on call, and would never be home. Like her father hadn't been all those years until Jolene came into their lives. Annabelle wanted a man who would come home to her every night, be committed to her instead of the job.

Next, he didn't have children of his own. After her fiasco with Peter, she realized that most men eventually wanted babies to carry on the family name. At least that's what Peter had made her believe. She'd made it her goal to meet a man with a ready-made family. Then if she got pregnant by some miracle, it would be a bonus rather than an expectation.

And the third strike was—he was out of her league. Zachary Beaumont was champagne, caviar, five-star restaurants and Mercedes coupes. Annabelle was beer, burgers, backyard picnics and old Ford pickups.

But, even though he wasn't right for her, the man made her heart flutter and her knees turn to pudding.

 

Z
ACH WASN'T SURE
why he let everyone talk him into a celebration. It was that sweet, sassy smile on Annabelle's face, he realized.

He'd told himself he'd have one drink and call it a night. He had plenty of medical journals waiting at home that he needed to read, charts to review, questions to answer on the Internet Web site he'd designed.

But each time he got up to leave, Annabelle's laughter would drift across the room, or her curvy body would be gyrating on the dance floor with one man or another—sometimes with a group of women, even. She had a verve that he found refreshing, a verve he imagined only the young possessed.

God knows, he'd lost that energy years ago.

She glanced at him, caught him watching. Instead of looking away, some devil inside him made him hold her gaze. He knew how to draw a woman to him with a mere look.

He saw her falter, hesitate, then that brilliant smile spread across her face, and a blond eyebrow lifted with such blatant, deliberate sensuality, he drew in a breath, cursed himself for letting his baser instincts get the better of his logical mind.

She excused herself from the dance floor, snagged a beer bottle off a nearby table and sauntered to his table, her tight jeans and even snugger tank top outlining every curve of her body.

Man alive, she made him want in a way he hadn't in more years than he could remember.

“Hey, there, handsome. How come you're sitting here all by yourself?”

“I was just getting ready to leave.”

She sat down across from him. “Oh, don't be tellin' stories. You looked pretty rooted to that chair to me.”

“Maybe I liked the scenery.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, then laughed and took
a swig of beer. “For a minute there, I though you meant me.”

“I did.” His voice was deep and low, nearly drowned out by the music. Nearly.

He grinned because he'd rendered her speechless. That didn't normally happen to Annabelle Reardon. She could talk a baby right out of the womb.

“Well, then…uh, thank you for the compliment.”

“You're welcome.”

She laughed again. “Zachary Beaumont, stop baiting me. I'm not one of your curvy models who's impressed with your title and money.”

“No? Tell me, then. What does it take to impress you?”

“Oh, things like loyalty and commitment.”

He'd figured as much. “You don't think I possess those qualities?”

She shrugged. “Maybe you do. Your track record doesn't speak well for the image, though.”

“Why is it everyone knows so much about my track record?”

“You're handsome and single, Zach. Certain people have made it their business to find out.”

“You?”

“Heavens, no. I don't pry into others' lives. Now if they want to share with me, I'm happy to listen.” She grinned. “You want to share?”

He couldn't help it. He laughed. “I think I'll keep my air of mystery.”

“Darn it.”

He lifted a brow. “Foiled your talk over the coffeepot, did I?”

She sobered at that and gave him a straight look.
“There's one thing you ought to know about me right now. I don't break a confidence and I don't gossip. I'll discuss what's common knowledge, as long as it's not gossip or won't harm the other person.”

He reached across the table and laid a hand on top of hers. It was smooth as silk, her nails short and clear of polish.

“I already know that about you, Annabelle. I was teasing you.”

She turned her hand beneath his and gave a squeeze. “Too much beer. I didn't mean to come off like a hornet. I can usually tell when someone's joking. Sorry.”

The feel of her hand beneath his poked at an ache inside him that he wanted to ignore. Looking around the room for anything to take his mind off the feel of Annabelle's smooth skin and innate compassion, he focused on Madeline Sheppard-Russell and her new husband.

“I've noticed quite a change in Madeline in the past several months. She's more…”

Annabelle grinned. “Feminine? Happy? In love?”

“I guess. I'm not used to seeing her with her hair down. Who would have guessed it was so long—and that she had a figure?”

Taking a swig of beer, Annabelle said, “I get to take a little of the credit for the figure. April and I took her shopping and updated her image. Got Ian's attention, that's for sure.”

“Ian would be her husband?”

“Where in the world have you been, sugar? Did I only dream that you work with the rest of us?”

Zach was a little surprised at himself for asking about a co-worker.

“I've always wondered why you keep to yourself so
much,” she said. “We've all been a part of each other's lives around here.”

“It's easier if I stay detached. If I'm personally involved, it could cloud my judgment in a crisis. A split second's hesitation can mean life or death for a mother or a child.”

“Has that ever happened to you?”

“No. I haven't allowed it.”

“I think you're wrong about yourself. If you care about someone, you'd be even more focused. That's the way you are.”

She was probably right, and for some reason, it bothered him that she could read him so well. “You hardly know me,” he said.

Her smile lit her face, danced in her eyes, making her look even younger—sexier. What a contradiction.

“It's a gift,” she said and flicked her streaky blond hair behind her ear in an absent gesture. “I study people, listen to them. The next thing you know, I'm offering advice and wanting to fix them.”

“I'm not broken.”

“Of course you aren't. A bit touchy,” she said, giving him a knowing look with a lift of one sassy eyebrow. “Let's see. Who else don't you know about?”

“You're out to prove a point, aren't you? That knowing my fellow colleagues won't cause me to flub the next surgery?”

“How very astute of you—and after two drinks, no less.” She pointed to the crystal glasses on the table, one with only melting ice at the bottom.

“It's club soda.”

“You don't drink?”

“Not if I'm driving or on call.”

“Good for you. I'm neither—driving or on call.” She
took another swig of beer, using her thumb to catch a dribble at the corner of her glossy lips. “So, let's see, obviously you know Maggie and Adam's story because you've handled their case. And you were in on the investigation when the teenage mother of the quadruplets disappeared and left the babies in April's care.”