Читать книгу Triplets For The Texan - Джанис Мейнард, Janice Maynard - Страница 11

Three

Hutch grimaced. Her words stung, even though they gave him an easy out.

He had told himself he was indifferent to Simone now, but in his gut he knew the truth. The first moment he laid eyes on her in that exam room a week ago, he’d felt the same dizzying punch of desire he’d always experienced when he was with her.

Panic swept through him like a sickening deluge. He couldn’t do that again. Not after what had happened in Sudan. It was better that Simone knew the score.

She lost patience with his lack of verbal response. “If you have something to say, say it. I’ve had a long, stressful day, and I want to take a bath and get into bed.”

I’d like to join you... His subconscious was honest and uncomfortable.

The dark shadows beneath her beautiful eyes reminded him she was in a fragile state, both mentally and physically.

The fact that he wanted so badly to hold her told him he had to protect himself.

He stood and paced, his hands jammed in his pockets. “I understand why you want me to move my car. Now that I’m back in town and we’re both still single, the gossip mill will undoubtedly have us hooking up any day now. People may even say your triplets are mine.”

Simone swallowed visibly. “Gossip isn’t reality.”

“Maybe not. But I have to be up front with you. I’m not willing to get involved in a relationship.”

She was pale and silent, her sapphire-eyed stare judging him. “I don’t recall asking you to. But to clarify, is your distaste for romance because of our past?”

“Not entirely. I fell in love with a fellow doctor while I was in Sudan. Her name was Bethany.”

For a split second, he could swear he saw anguish in Simone’s eyes. But if it was there, she recovered quickly.

“You said was? Past tense?”

He nodded jerkily. “She died two years ago. Cut her foot on a rock. Doctors make the worst patients, you know. She didn’t tell any of us how serious it was. Ended up with sepsis. I couldn’t save her.” Even now the memory sickened him.

Simone leaned forward. “I am so sorry, Hutch.”

Her sympathy should have soothed him. Instead, it made him feel guilty. “I’ll always be fond of you, Simone...and I’ll care about you. But I need you to know that’s all it will be.”

She blinked. “I see.”

“I suppose you think I’m assuming a hell of a lot to think you would even be interested after all this time.”

“Not at all. You’re a gorgeous man. With a kind heart. I’m sure I won’t be the only woman in Royal who appreciates your sterling qualities.”

“Aw, hell. You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.” She smiled gently. “Six months ago your virtue might have been in danger. But now I have three babies to consider. Their welfare has to come before anything else in my life.”

“Even romance?”

“Especially romance.”

“Then I guess we’ve cleared the air.”

“I guess we have.”

“I should go,” he said. But he didn’t move.

Simone stood up, swaying a bit before she steadied herself with a hand on the back of the chair. “Yes, you should.”

Squaring his shoulders, he nodded. The urge to kiss her was overpowering.

She kept a hand on the chair, either because she felt faint or because she intended to use it as a shield. Either way, it didn’t matter. He wanted to taste her more than he wanted his next breath.

He put his hands on her shoulders, noting the tension there. She wasn’t wearing shoes, so the difference in their heights was magnified. Winnowing his fingers through her hair, he sighed. “I should have come home a year ago. Then maybe I could have talked you out of this single-mom idea.”

“Not your business, Doc.”

It was as easy as falling into a dream. He had loved Bethany, deeply and truly. And grieved her passing. But this thing with Simone was something else. Did he dare explore the possibilities?

Slowly, he moved his lips over hers, waiting for the protest that never came. She tasted of coffee and wonderful familiarity. But not comfort. Never comfort. There was too much heat. Too much yearning. When she went up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, he groaned. Five years. Almost six. Gone in a flash.

He ran his hands over her back and landed on her bottom. She was thinner, but every bit as soft and appealing as she had ever been. Before he left for Sudan, when they were alone together, Simone had been unguarded...innocent. A far cry from the woman who tilted her chin and dared the world to disrespect her.

Every beat of his heart was magnified. He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear...nipped her earlobe with his teeth. Simone did nothing to stop him. In fact, she didn’t even try to hide the fact that she wanted him. Temptation sank its teeth into his gut and didn’t let go. He was hard as a pike. The sofa was close by. Damn. How could he still want her so badly? No. This had to stop. Now.

Dragging in great gulps of air, he broke free of the embrace, stumbled backward and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Does it make you happy to know I still want you?” he snarled. He felt like a fool.

Simone’s expression was gaunt and defeated. “Not happy at all, Hutch. But message received. You have nothing to fear from me. I’d appreciate it if you would let yourself out.”

* * *

She waited until she heard the front door slam before bursting into tears. Sliding down the wall and curling up in a knot of misery on the hallway floor, she cried ugly, wretched sobs that left her throat raw and her chest hollow.

She knew her hormones were all over the map, but it was more than that. Hutch might as well still be in Africa. The gulf between them was so deep and so wide, it was doubtful they could ever even manage to be friends. Yet the same incendiary attraction that had drawn them to each other in the beginning still existed.

The sensation of being wrapped in his strong arms...of feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek...of knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him brought back such crazy joy. Never in her life had she felt as happy or free as she had when she and Hutch were a couple.

What he said was true. If he had come home six months ago, she would never have embarked on this path of insanity. She’d been angry at her dead grandfather and determined to prove she was worthy of carrying on the family name. It had never been about the money, but more about legitimacy, a sense of belonging.

Now it was too late for second thoughts. The babies were a reality.

Stumbling to her bathroom, she washed her face and sprawled on the bed. She was hungry again, but it was a weird hunger. Beneath the pangs of an empty stomach rolled a sensation of nausea in the offing.

Finally, at midnight, she dragged herself out of bed and went to the kitchen in search of a snack. Milk seemed like a bad idea. Ditto for cheese or yogurt. Craving something salty, she found half a bag of stale, plain potato chips. She gobbled two handfuls and washed them down with ginger ale.

Her hunger appeased, she went back to bed only to jump up twenty minutes later and rush for the bathroom. She threw up violently, so hard that her ribs ached. Even rinsing out her mouth made her stomach heave.

Groaning, she found a damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. The notion that she might have to endure weeks of this misery pointed out once again how foolish she had been. I’m sorry, she said silently to the three lives she carried.

No matter what sacrifices it demanded, she would make sure this was a healthy pregnancy.

The following morning was no better. Dry cereal and water came right back up as soon as they went down. Her hands began to cramp, signaling possible dehydration. Doggedly, she sipped from a water bottle and forced herself to put on the same dress pants from the day before but with a different top. She couldn’t simply stay home because she felt bad. She had a business to run...a business that would soon support three tiny infants.

Driving was doable, but only because she never pushed the speedometer over thirty miles an hour. When she reached her office, the receptionist, Candace, gave her a wide-eyed stare. Simone didn’t engage. She made a beeline for her private suite, closed the door and put her head on the desk. The sharp corner of a business card poked her stomach through her pocket.

She pulled the rectangle out and laid it on the desk. Hutch. Dr. Hutch. Saint Hutch. It would be a cold day in hell before she called him for anything.

With nothing more than dogged determination and the inherent stubbornness that got her into trouble more often than not, she made it through an entire workday. The campaign for Luna Fine Furnishings, a subsidiary of Cecelia’s company, To the Moon, was coming along nicely. Phase one had already been rolled out. In two weeks, an intensive social media blitz would back up the initial print ads and billboards.

The noon lunch hour came and went. Simone didn’t even attempt to eat. At five o’clock, she closed her laptop, packed up her things and took a deep breath before heading out to her car. Once there, she had to spend another chunk of time convincing herself she could make the drive home. She was shaky, light-headed and so very sick.

She must have dozed when she got home, because suddenly it was seven o’clock. Naomi would bring her food if she called, but then Simone would have to explain what was going on. Even if it was time to share her secret with her friends, she’d rather do it with both women present.

Carryout pizza sounded revolting. Canvassing the pantry in her kitchen was an exercise in futility. She knew how to cook but seldom spared the time. Most days she had lunch with clients and grabbed a salad for dinner.

In the end, the only available choice was peanut butter. That was protein—right? Even her crackers were stale. But smeared with peanut butter, they were edible. At first, Simone thought she had landed on a miracle. The peanut butter was comfort food, its smell and taste appealing.

Sadly, no matter the enjoyment going down, everything she consumed came back up in a matter of minutes.

The night passed slowly. She alternated between lying on top of the covers covered in a cold sweat and hunching over the toilet. No matter how slowly she sipped water, it wouldn’t stay down. Nor would anything else.

Once she almost fell, so dizzy the room spun around her. Finally, at 4:00 a.m., she collapsed into an exhausted slumber.

When her alarm went off, she muttered an incredulous protest. How did working mothers do this?

Dragging herself into the shower, she held on to the towel bar as she washed her hair. Blow-drying it took everything she had. At last she was dressed and ready to go. By now the thought of trying to eat was beyond her. Maybe she’d be able to attempt some lunch.

The ride to work was a blur. This time she barely noticed the receptionist’s look of consternation. Simone’s mouth was dry and fuzzy. How could she risk taking a drink when she might have to rush for the bathroom? No one in Royal knew she was pregnant. Well, aside from Hutch and Dr. Fetter. It was far too early to let that cat out of the bag.

As she sat in a stupor at her desk, the buzzer on her phone sounded. “Line two, Ms. Parker. It’s your accountant.”

Later, Simone couldn’t remember the exact details of that conversation. For all she knew, she might have agreed to transfer her personal and business funds to illegal offshore accounts.

Thankfully, her two full-time employees—including her exceptional right hand, Tess—were out of town at a conference. The receptionist was fairly new and wouldn’t have the temerity to invade her office uninvited.

So the hours passed.

At one, Simone knew she had to eat something. Her headache had reached monumental proportions. Maybe she would send Candace out to get chicken noodle soup. Not only would that guarantee Simone a few minutes of privacy to test her stomach with a sip of water, but the soup might actually be good for her.

She stood up on trembling legs. Rarely did she ask an employee to carry out a personal errand, but she was literally incapable of walking down the block. Carefully, she opened her door. “Candace, can you come in here?”

Candace looked up and blanched. Apparently Simone looked even worse than she felt. Her receptionist rushed into the office. “Can I help you, Ms. Parker?” she asked.

Simone nodded, wincing when the motion sent shock waves through her skull. “Would you mind grabbing me some chicken soup from the diner?”

“I’d be happy to,” Candace said.

“Let me get my billfold.”

“No worries. We can settle up later. Do you want something to drink? Lemonade? Iced tea?”

Oh, wow. Tea sounded wonderful. “Tea would be great.” Her mouth was so dry. “Hurry, Candace. I don’t think I can—” She stopped dead, nausea rising in her throat. “Oh, damn. I’m going to—”

* * *

It might have been hours or days later when she woke up completely. She had vague memories of an ambulance and several people in white coats. Now she was in her own bed.

When she shifted on the mattress, Hutch’s voice sounded nearby. “Take it easy, Simone. You’re going to be okay.”

“My head hurts,” she groaned, trying to recreate her spotty memory.

“No wonder.” Hutch crouched beside her bed, his smile quizzical. “You whacked it pretty hard on the edge of your desk when you fainted. The ER doc put in three stitches, but there’s no concussion.”

Panicked, she tried to sit up. “The babies?”

“Steady, woman. They’re fine.”

“What happened to me?”

“Hyperemesis gravidarum.”

“Oh, God. Is that as bad as it sounds?”

“Yes and no. You were badly dehydrated, Simone, and disoriented. One of the unlucky women who suffer from severe nausea and vomiting when pregnant. Women with multiples are more prone to it.”

“Well, that’s just peachy,” she muttered.

“Dr. Fetter wanted to admit you, but you pitched a fit and demanded to go home. She only agreed because I promised to stay with you.”

For the first time, Simone realized she was hooked up to an IV. “You did this?”

He looked at her strangely. “Yes. But if you’ve changed your mind, I’ll take you back to the hospital.”

Now that her head was clearer, she did remember most of what he was saying. It didn’t paint her in a good light.

“How did you hear I had passed out? Why were you there with the EMTs? Candace doesn’t even know you.”

“She was trying to call 911 and saw my card on your desk.”

“I knew I should have thrown that away.”

Hutch had the audacity to laugh. When he did, she caught a glimpse of the carefree young doctor she had fallen in love with so many years ago. Heaven help her. With the shadows gone from his eyes—chased away by genuine humor—he was irresistible.

He fiddled with a setting on the monitor. “It will take at least twenty-four hours to get your electrolyte levels balanced again. After that, we’ll have to see if you are able eat or drink at all. Otherwise, you’ll have to get nutrition intravenously.”

“How long will this last?”

“Well...” It was clear he didn’t want to upset her.

“Go ahead, Hutch. I can handle it.”

“Days. Weeks.” He grimaced. “For some it’s all the way till the end. But you’re in the earliest moments of this pregnancy. Your body is adapting to the flood of hormones. With any luck, things will settle down soon.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” she said drily. She watched as he moved around the bedroom. “You can’t stay here. You have a job.”

“I was going to talk to you about that. I have a friend, a nurse, who does in-home care. She’s expensive, but it’s cheaper than being hospitalized and a lot more comfortable.”

“She would stay overnight?”

Hutch rubbed two fingers in the center of his forehead. “No. I would be here when I get off work in the evenings.”

Simone closed her eyes and told herself not to get upset. That wouldn’t be good for the babies. “You know that’s impossible,” she whispered.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand, the one with the needle taped into it. “My job is to protect high-risk infants. What happened to you is serious, but there’s no reason to take up a hospital bed.”

“What about staying away from each other?”

“You’re all hooked up. How bad could we be?”

The droll comment startled a laugh from her when she could have sworn she didn’t have it in her. “I have friends,” she said. “And parents.”

“Don’t be coy, Simone. I happen to know that Cecelia is newly engaged and pregnant and Naomi flits all over the country. Your parents wouldn’t begin to know how to be nurturing. I’ve met them, remember? I’m your best shot if you want to stay out of the hospital.”

Well, damn. The idea of checking into a hospital for something like this gave her the hives. “You could teach me about the IV,” she said, giving him a hopeful glance.

“Nice try, kiddo. Even Kate Middleton had to stay in the hospital a few nights when she struggled with this condition. Despite the fact that she had castles and servants at her disposal. Count yourself lucky that Dr. Fetter trusts me.”

“She should. You’re her boss.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m sorry Candace dragged you into this.”

He leaned over and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’m not. You gave everyone a real scare. I’d just as soon be the one keeping an eye on you.”