Читать книгу Hot Docs On Call: Tinseltown Cinderella - Lynne Marshall, Amalie Berlin - Страница 14
ОглавлениеON THE SATURDAY after the next Parentcraft class, Carey stood in the kitchen, using her second-trimester menu planner for dinner preparation. She’d had to stretch her usual eating routine to include items she’d never have been caught dead eating before. Like anchovies! Why was Gabriella so big on anchovies? Obviously they were high in calcium and other important minerals, plus loaded with omega three and six fatty acids, but Carey didn’t think they tasted so great and smelled really bad. Carey practically had to hold her nose to eat them.
Fortunately this Saturday-night menu included salmon—yay, more omega fats—which Joe was dutifully grilling outside on a cedar plank. Dutiful, yeah, that was the right word for Joe. Everything he did for her seemed to be done out of duty. Sure, he was nice and considerate, but she never sensed he was completely relaxed around her.
She diligently steamed the broccoli and zucchini, and in another pot boiled some new red potatoes, grateful that Joe seemed okay to eat whatever she did. So far she’d managed to keep her occasional junk-food binges to herself. Nothing major, just items that had definitely been left off the Gabriella-approved dietary plan for a pregnant lady, like sea salt and malt vinegar potato chips, or blue corn chips, or, well, actually, any kind of chip that she could get her hands on. She rationalized that if occasionally she only bought the small luncheon-sized bags she wouldn’t do the baby any harm. Or her hips.
Her weight gain was right on target, and when she’d seen Gabriella in clinic for a prenatal checkup, thanks to Dr. Rothsberg, she’d complimented her on how well she was carrying the baby. The ultrasound had been the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and the first person she’d wanted to share it with had been Joe, and since he’d brought her to the appointment, once she’d dressed she’d invited him back into the examination room. He’d oohed and aahed right along with her, but she’d sensed a part of him had remained safely detached. She could understand why—he was a guy and it wasn’t his baby.
It made sense...yet he’d gotten all watery-eyed that day in the clinic when she’d found out her baby was okay, and he’d made that remark that one time about knowing how life-changing a baby could be. She’d asked him point blank if he was a father, but he’d said no and had powered right on. What had that been about? Heck, she’d only just recently found out how old he was, and the only thing she knew beyond that, besides he had a big, kind family, was that he was divorced.
The thing that kept eating away at her thoughts was that Joe didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d give up on a marriage.
Carey popped the top from another beer can and carried it outside to Joe. Being so involved together in the parenting class had definitely changed their relationship for the better, yet she knew Joe held back. She’d opened up about Ross in the hope of getting Joe to share whatever it was that kept him frequently tense and withdrawn.
At first she’d written off that always-present slow simmer just beneath the surface as being due to his demanding job as a paramedic, and also the fact he ran the business. But he clearly thrived on being in charge. It was obvious he loved the challenge. No, that wasn’t the problem, it was when they were in the house together, her occasionally indulging in baby talk to her stomach, or discussing the latest information from the Parentcraft classes that she noticed him mentally slip into another time and place. Granted, another person’s pregnancy wasn’t exactly riveting to the average person, but Joe had volunteered to attend the class with her. If it was an issue, why had he signed on?
Now outside, she smiled and handed him a second beer. “Ready for another?”
His brows rose. “Sure. Thanks.” As he took it, their eyes met and held, and a little zing shot through her. The usual whenever they looked straight at each other.
She turned and headed back toward the kitchen, feeling distracted and desperately trying to stay on task.
“You trying to get me drunk?”
“Maybe.” She playfully tossed the word over her shoulder then ducked inside before he could respond.
Tonight was the night she hoped to get him to open up. If she had to ply him with beer to do it, she would.
Later over dinner... “Mmm, this is delicious,” Carey said, tasting the cedar-infused salmon. “That lime juice brings out a completely different flavor.” They sat at the small picnic table on the deck under a waxing June moon.
“Not bad, I must say. What kind of crazy food do we have to prepare tomorrow?”
“Watercress soup with anchovies, what else?” She laughed. “That’s lunch, but for dinner we get chicken teriyaki with shredded veggies, oh, and cheese rolls. Can’t wait for the bread!” She leveled him with her stare. “I have to thank you for putting up with this crazy diet.”
His gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve enjoyed everything so far.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Since I’m your prenatal partner, the least I should do is help you stay on the diet. Your baby will thank me one day.”
Sometimes he said the sweetest things and she just wanted to throw her arms around him. But she’d made that mistake once already during the self-defense training and it had mixed up everything between them for days afterwards. Since then he seemed to have shut down like a spring snare, and she’d carefully kept her distance. But he’d just planted a thought she couldn’t drop. Would her baby ever know him?
Right now his hand was on top of hers, and she couldn’t for the life of her understand why such a wonderful man wasn’t still happily married with his own assortment of kids.
She lifted her lids and caught him still watching her, both totally aware of their hands touching, so she smiled but it felt lopsided and wiggly. She stopped immediately, not wanting him to think she was goofy looking or anything. Things felt too close, it nagged at her, and she knew how to break up that uncomfortable feeling pronto. “You mentioned once that you were divorced.” She decided to get right to the heart of the conversation she’d planned to start tonight.
He removed his hand from hers and sat taller as ice seemed to set into his normally kind eyes. “Yeah.” He dug into his vegetables and served himself more fish, suddenly very busy with eating. “My wife left me.”
Why would any woman in her right mind leave Joe? “That must have hurt like hell.”
“It was not a good time.” He clipped out the words, with an emphasis that communicated it would be the end of this conversation. And why did she know without a doubt that he wasn’t telling her anywhere near the whole story? Because he’d hinted at “getting it” and knowing how babies changed lives. Things didn’t add up. Had he lost a child?
So she pressed on, hoping that talking about herself some more might help him to open up. “Sometimes people should get divorced.” She pushed her empty plate away and sipped from her large glass of iced water.
“For instance, my parents were a train wreck. My dad was out of work most of the time, and my mother was always taking on whatever odd jobs she could to make up for it. Instead of being grateful, my typically belligerent father went the macho route, accusing her of thinking him not good enough to take care of the family. Occasionally he’d haul off and hit her, too. I swore I’d never, never put myself in the same position.”
Joe protested, shaking his head. “You didn’t.”
“Didn’t I? After working my whole life to be independent, I fell for the exact same kind of guy as my dad. A man so insecure about his masculinity that he kept me isolated, insisting it was because he loved me so much. Then he turned violent whenever I stood up to him, and especially when I told him we were going to have a baby. What a fool I was. I didn’t learn a thing from my parents’ lousy marriage.” If she hadn’t already finished eating she wouldn’t have been able to take another bite, with her stomach suddenly churning and contorting with emotion.
“He must have had a lot going for him to get you interested at first, though. I’m sure he hid his insecurities really well.” His hand came back to hers. “Don’t call yourself stupid. You have a big heart. You just didn’t see the changes coming.”
“You give me a lot of credit.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m still mad at myself for winding up in this position.”
“As crazy as it sounds, I’m kind of glad you did.” He squeezed back then let go completely, keeping things safe and distant. “You’re better off here.”
With you? She wanted to add, I am better off here but where do we go from here? “What are we, Joe?”
He screwed up his face in mock confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Are we friends? You can’t call me a tenant because I’m not paying you rent.” She tried to make an ironic expression, but fell far short because the next pressing question was already demanding she ask it. “Am I one huge charity case that you, in your kindness, the way your parents taught you, just can’t bring yourself to send away?”
“God, no. Carey, come on.” He wadded up his napkin and tossed it on the table. “You’re overthinking things, making problems where there aren’t any. We’re friends.” He shrugged.
“We can’t call ourselves friends if you won’t open up to me.” She stood and started clearing the table. “Friends share things.”
Joe shot up and helped to pick up dishes, as usual, and they headed to the kitchen and washed the plates in silence. A muscle in his jaw bunched over and over. Not only had she not gotten Joe to open up, she’d made sure he’d keep his distance and would probably never let her close. Major fail.
But what should she expect, being pregnant with another man’s baby?
* * *
Early on Monday morning the phone rang. Sunday evening had been strained but tolerable between them, and Joe had withdrawn more from Carey by working during the day and later by working out while listening to that aggressive jazz saxophone music while he did so. It made her want to put on headphones. Carey didn’t know if she could take much more of him distancing himself from her, but under the circumstances she felt trapped for now. Which felt far too familiar, considering her past.
Joe had the day off and answered, then quickly handed the phone to Carey.
“This is Mrs. Adams from social services. The police department told us about your current situation, and Helena from The Hollywood Hills Clinic Social Services also contacted us. Sorry it took so long, but there is quite a backlog. Anyway, we have found a temporary apartment in Hollywood where you can stay for now.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. When can I have a look?”
“You can move in this weekend, if you’d like. Or today if you need to. We have a voucher worth a month’s rent and this unit has just become available. Would you like me to bring the voucher by?”
“Yes. Of course. Thanks so much.”
Carey hung up having made arrangements with Mrs. Adams, glancing up to see Joe watching her skeptically. She owed him an explanation and told him exactly what Mrs. Adams had just said.
“So, if all works out, I’ll be out of your hair, maybe as soon as tonight.”
“Where is this place? Will you be safe?” There went that jaw muscle again.
“I don’t know anything, but would social services send me somewhere unsafe?”
“They’re just trying to put a roof over your head.” His fingers planted on and dug into his hips, his body tensed. He wore an expression of great concern, making his normally handsome face look ominous. “Safety might not be their number-one goal. I’m going with you.”
Every once in a while, thanks to her recent experience with Ross, Joe seemed too overbearing. Yeah, she’d messed up lately, but she was a big girl, a mother-to-be! And she would be in charge of her life from here on. “I can take care of myself. Thanks.”
His demeanor immediately apologetic, he came closer. “I didn’t mean to come off like that, dictating what I intended to do, but please let me come with you. I’d like to see where you’ll be living. I know all the areas around here.”
Since he sounded more reasonable, she changed her mind. “Okay, but I make the decision. Got that?”
“Got it. But first off you’ve got to know that you don’t have to move out. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”
“Thank you, but as a future single mother I’ve got to prove to myself I can take care of things. I got myself into this situation, I should get myself out. Besides, I’ll be starting the temporary job next Monday, and—”
“Your salary won’t be enough to rent an apartment in any decent neighborhood. I’m not trying to throw a wet blanket on your plans, I’m just being honest.”
She refused to lose hope. “I’m going to go see that apartment with Mrs. Adams and then I’ll decide.”
“Can you at least call her back and tell her I’ll drive you over there?”
“Okay, but only because it will be more convenient for her.”
“Fine.”
* * *
That afternoon Joe parked on North Edgemont in front of an old redbrick apartment building that was dark, dank and seedy-looking as hell. He clamped his jaw and ground his molars rather than let Carey know what he thought. She’d made it clear it would be her decision, and he’d honor that. The only thing the area had going for it was a huge hospital a couple of blocks down on Sunset Boulevard.
If they’d offered the rent voucher the first week she’d moved in, he would have encouraged her to jump on it. Having a woman in his house again, especially a pregnant woman, brought back a hundred different and all equally awful memories. Having to do things together, like shopping for groceries and fixing meals, was nearly more than he could bear. Plus, with Carey living with him, it seemed Angela had moved back in, just in a different form. So he’d concentrated on Carey being a victim and he was her protector. Keeping it clinical and obligatory had been the key.
Best-laid plans and all, he’d gotten involved with her anyway. Why had he taken it on himself to teach her self-defense, and why in hell had he volunteered to be her prenatal class partner? The problem was there was too much to like about Carey. So he glanced at the dreary apartment building and felt a little sick.
If she decided to take this place, he’d have to find her a car. Which wouldn’t be a problem with his father’s business. No way did he want her walking these streets at night, coming home from work and getting off the bus. Pressure built in his temples just thinking about it.
He stood back and let Carey introduce herself to Mrs. Adams, who showed her inside. The term flophouse came to mind, but Joe kept his trap shut. Damn, it was hard.
The single room had a tiny alcove with a half-refrigerator, a small microwave and a hot plate. How would she be able to continue with the nutritious meals from Gabriella’s class? He’d throw out the mattress from the pullout bed and burn it rather sleep on it, and the rusty toilet in the so-called bathroom made his stomach churn. Not to mention that the constant dripping from the kitchen sink would keep her awake at night.
Caution was as plain as day on Carey’s face as she glanced around the place. But he already knew her well enough to know she’d try to make the best out of a lousy situation. Hell, she’d been putting up with him withdrawing every time they’d gotten too close. Probably walked on eggshells around him. But was living with him so bad that she’d choose a dump like this just to get away?
Last night she’d said a real zinger, not realizing it, of course, but nevertheless her comment had hit hard. When she’d talked about her ex being insecure about his masculinity to the point of taking over her life, it had made Joe cringe. He could relate, especially since getting the lab results about him being sterile, and following up later with a urologist as to the reasons why. Was that part of him wanting to protect Carey? Was it some twisted way of making himself feel like a complete man again?
“And you said you have a voucher for the rent here for the next month?” Carey asked.
Mrs. Adams, a tiny African-American woman with short tight curls and wearing a bright red blouse, looked serious. “Yes, we can also provide food stamps and you can move in now or this weekend if you’d like.”
Carey was about to say something, and damn it to hell if it meant he was waving around his insecure masculinity or whatever, Joe couldn’t let this fiasco continue another second. “What’s the crime rate in this neighborhood?” he butted in.
An eyebrow shot up on Mrs. Adams’s forehead. Was she not used to being asked that question by people desperate enough to need county social services assistance? “I honestly don’t know. It’s a busy neighborhood. There’s a church right up the street, a hospital down on Sunset. There’s a small family-run market on Hollywood Boulevard and the apartment building is really well situated for all of her needs.”
Carey stood still, only her eyes moved to watch him. Was it trust or fear he saw there? Was his being concerned coming off as overbearing? He hoped she saw it a different way, the way he’d intended, that he was worried for her safety. He subtly shook his head but she quickly glanced back at Mrs. Adams. “Thank you so much for showing me this place. Do I have to sign anything?”
Joe understood she’d been trying to be a good soldier, stiffening her lip and all, but all it had done was turn her to cardboard. She obviously wanted to make the offer from social services work out, but Joe strongly suspected that in her heart she was scared. And he was pretty sure he saw it in her eyes, too. Those lush meadow-green eyes seemed ready for a storm. How could she not be afraid? Now that he’d identified what was going on with her, he could practically smell that fear. He just hoped it wasn’t directed toward him.
She didn’t belong here. She belonged with him. Safe. Protected. That’s all there was to it. Was he being crazy, like Ross? With all his heart he hoped not, but right at this moment it was hard to evaluate his motives because the lines had blurred and there was no way in hell he’d let this happen.
Joe stepped forward, unable to let the scene play out another moment. He reached for and gently held Carey’s upper arm, pleading with his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t see a crazed, insecure man. He fought to keep every ounce of emotion out of his voice. “Stay with me.” Making the comment a simple suggestion. Then he stumbled, letting a drop of intensity slip back in. “Please.”
* * *
Carey hadn’t given in, though she’d wanted to. Mrs. Adams had gone on alert when Joe had taken her arm in his hand. The poor woman had probably thought he was the guy she needed to get away from. Carey had made sure she knew otherwise. No, Joe wasn’t scary, but he had a rescue complex and she needed to help him get over it.
They drove back toward West Hollywood mostly in silence. True, the last thing she wanted was to move into such a depressing place, but rather than cave just because Joe wanted her to she’d asked Mrs. Adams to give her twenty-four hours to make her decision. It had also seemed to calm the woman’s sudden uneasy demeanor over the battle of wills between Carey and Joe about moving.
And this had been where Joe had proved he was nothing like Ultimatum Ross. Trusting her decision, he’d agreed that was a smart idea, and Mrs. Adams had smiled again. Inside, so had Carey.
The man was too good to be true, and she couldn’t trust her instinct to believe he was what he was, a great guy! She’d thought she’d fallen for a great guy back home, a man who’d gone out of his way to charm her and make her laugh, and above all who’d wanted to take care of her. Look where that had led. But the last two weeks of living with Joe had been little short of perfection. He was patient and friendly, didn’t have mood swings, like Ross, had just mostly kept his distance. Sometimes that had been maddening. Joe was tidy and helpful and—oh, she’d tried long enough to avoid the next thought—sexy as hell! The male pheromones buzzing through that house had awakened something she’d tried to put on hold since long before she’d gotten pregnant. Desire.
When she’d taken off her blindfold and finally seen who Ross truly was, she hadn’t wanted to be engaged to him anymore. But he was such a manipulating and suspicious guy that she’d pretended to be sexually interested just enough to keep him off the scent. She’d intended to leave him. Had made plans for it, too. Then the unthinkable had happened and she’d gotten pregnant. The only thing she could figure was she’d missed a birth-control pill. Ross had hated hearing that excuse, and he’d accused her of wanting to ruin everything they’d had together. He’d even accused her of being unfaithful.
And he’d gotten violent.
How could she ever trust her instinct where men were concerned?
She needed Joe to open up to make sure he wasn’t hiding something awful. Maybe she could use him wanting to rescue her all the time as a bargaining chip to get him to share something personal. She’d been kind of forced to tell him about Ross, what with her bruises and black eye and being pregnant and running away. But her attempt to get him to tell her about his failed marriage Saturday night had fallen flat. Maybe his divorce still hurt too much.
“If you expect me to continue to live with you, we have to actually be friends, not just say we are.”
“Of course we’re friends.” He kept his eyes on the road.
“No, we’re not. I’ve shared some very personal stuff with you, and yet you’re nothing but a mystery to me. Friends know things about each other.”
“What do you want to know?” He sounded frustrated.
“Why did your wife leave you? What happened? What broke up your marriage?”
He braked a little too hard for the red light, then stared straight ahead for a couple of moments. “If you’re thinking I was a player you’d be wrong. In our case it was the other way around.”
Carey nearly gulped in her shock. What woman in her right mind would be unfaithful to a guy like Joe? What in the world was she supposed to say to that? “She left you for another man?” She admitted she sounded a little dumbstruck.
“As opposed to a woman?” He gave an ironic laugh and glanced at her with challenge in his eyes. “I guess that might have hurt even more, but yes to your question. It was another man.” He could have been testifying in court by his businesslike manner. Just the facts, ma’am.
So Joe was one of the walking wounded, like her. “I’m so sorry.” It was probably a lot easier for him to assign himself the role of protector than to open the door to getting involved with another woman. Especially a vulnerable person like her. Joe had proved to be wise on top of all his other wonderful assets.
Though she knew without a doubt what had gone down today, looking at the apartment, was on a completely different level. Joe had asked her to stay. She’d seen from that touch of desperation in his eyes that he’d meant it, too. She didn’t have a clue if once upon a time he’d asked his wife to stay and she’d left anyway, but right at this instant Carey made a decision.
No way would she be another woman walking out on Joseph Matthews. “May I borrow your cell phone?”
While driving, he fished in his pocket and handed it to her. She looked in her purse for the business card. “Hello, Mrs. Adams? This is Carey Spencer. Yes, hi. About that apartment, I am so grateful for the rent voucher and the offer of food stamps, but I have decided to stay where I am.”
Not another word was spoken on the drive home, but Carey could have sworn the built-up tension in the car had instantly dissipated as if she’d rolled down the window and let the Santa Ana winds blow it all away.
* * *
The following Monday Carey started her new job as a substitute ward clerk and couldn’t hide her elation over working again. More importantly, the California Board of Registered Nurses assured her she’d get her RN license in a couple more weeks, just in time to apply for another job, this one as an RN, after the vacationing ward clerk came back. Life was definitely looking up.
The evening shift on the medical/surgical unit was nonstop with admissions and discharges, and she was grateful she’d spent a couple of afternoons learning the computer software and clinic routine with the current ward clerk the week before she’d left.
Joe had offered to rent her a car, but she didn’t feel ready to drive the streets of Los Angeles, especially those winding roads in the Hollywood Hills, just yet, so Joe had reworked things and scheduled himself on evening shifts so he could bring her to work and back.
She sat transfixed before the computer at the nurses’ station, deciphering the admitting orders from Dr. Rothsberg for a twenty-eight-year-old starlet who’d been intermittently starving and binging herself then herbal detoxing for the last several years, until now her liver showed signs of giving out. She’d been admitted with a general diagnosis of fever, malaise and abdominal tenderness. Though bone thin everywhere else, her abdomen looked to be the same size as Carey’s, but the actress wasn’t pregnant.
Carey had arranged for the ultrasound and CT studies for the next day, and had moved on to requesting a low-sodium diet from the hospital dietary department, which had a master chef. She could vouch for the great food with a couple of memorable meals she’d had during her stay. The patient would probably never notice the lack of salt amidst a perfect blend of fresh herbs and spices. Then she reminded the admitting nurse that her patient was on total bed rest. She went ahead and read Dr. Rothsberg’s analysis and realized therapeutic paracentesis was likely in the petite Hollywood personality’s future.
Deep in her work, she glanced up to find Joe smiling at her. “I brought you something,” he said, then handed her a brown bag with something inside that smelled out of this world.
She stood to take the bag over the countertop, inhaled and couldn’t resist. “Mmm, what is it?”
“Your dinner. I was on a call in the vicinity of Fairfax, so I got you one of those deli sandwiches you gobbled down the last time we were there.”
“Turkey salad, cranberries and walnuts with bread dressing?”
“Yup.”
“Including the pickle?”
He nodded, as if offended she’d even suggest such an oversight.
“Well, thank you. I’ll be starving by the time my dinner break rolls around.”
“You’re welcome.” He got serious and leaned on his forearm, making sure to hold her gaze. “I’ve been thinking. We’ll have to get more organized now that you’re working and pack a lunch for you every day. We can still use Gabriella’s guidelines.”
“Sounds good.” Totally touched by his concern for her well-being, she fought that frequent urge to give him a hug. Fortunately the nurses’ station counter prevented it this time. “But please let me splurge on things like this once in a while.” She held up the deli bag.
He winked, and it seemed a dozen butterflies had forced their way into her chest and now attempted to fly off with her heart. Since she’d decided to keep living with him, he’d changed. He’d become easier to talk to, and though he still hadn’t opened up he’d quit grinding his teeth so much. Truth was, the man could only suppress his wonderful nature for so long. Now she was the lucky recipient of his thoughtfulness and loving every second of it.
“See you later,” he said, making a U-turn and heading off the ward. The perfectly fitting light blue polo shirt showed off his broad shoulders, accentuating his trim waist, the multi-purpose khaki cargo pants still managing to hug his buns just right, and those sexy-as-hell black paramedic utility boots... She guiltily watched his every move until he was out of sight. Wow, it looked like she didn’t have to worry about her sick relationship with Ross at the end before she’d run away, and ruining her natural sex drive. She’d faked interest and excitement with him for her safety. Now, with Joe, without even trying, the most natural thoughts of all had awakened some super-hot fantasies. Like the desire to make love and really mean it. What would that be like with Joe?
“Uh-huh. Nice.” One of the other nurses in the area had joined her in staring at the masculine work of art as he’d swaggered out the door. How could a guy not swagger, wearing those boots?
Getting caught ogling Joe made Carey’s cheeks heat up, especially after what she’d just been thinking, so she tossed a sheepish look at the nurse then delved back into the admission packet for the actress.
* * *
Joe went straight to the clinic’s paramedic station just off the ER to check on the EMT staff. He knew the emergency nurses sometimes got upset if the guys didn’t help out when things got busy. Joe was always prepared to intervene and explain that wasn’t their job, and the RNs didn’t need to get all worked up about the EMS guys sitting for half a minute, waiting for the next call. On the other hand, he’d insisted to his guys that if a nurse said she needed more muscle, and they weren’t doing anything at the time, they should jump to it and help out with lifts and transfers. Keeping RNs happy was always a good idea. He’d also taken to suggesting the guys hang out in their truck on downtime rather than at the tiny desk with two computers designated as their work station, so as not to complicate things in the ER.
Not taking his own advice, he took a seat and brought up the evening’s schedule, and in the process sat in the vicinity of James, who was conferring on the phone about a patient he’d just admitted to Carey’s floor with liver issues. James nodded and smiled at Joe, and Joe returned the courtesy.
Soon James hung up. “How’s that scar doing? Any more tearing with your workouts, you beast?”
Joe laughed. “I’m all healed. Thanks.” Joe saw James’s sister, Freya, appear across the ER, obviously looking for someone.
“There you are,” she said over the other heads, immediately making her way toward James.
James ducked down in an obvious fashion. “Oh, boy. Here we go,” he said jokingly in an aside to Joe. “What does she want this time?” He raised his voice to tease his younger sister.
Knowing from their rocky history that the brother and sister’s relationship had never been better since Freya had come to The Hollywood Hills Clinic as a sought-after public relations guru, Joe chuckled at James’s wisecrack.
“There you are,” Freya said, her dark blue eyes sparkling under the fluorescent ER lights. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but I need a firm date for when you’ll visit the Bright Hope Clinic. Here’s my calendar, I’ve highlighted the best days and times for me and them. What works for you?” She shoved her small internet tablet calendar in front of James, making it impossible for him not to pick a day and time.
Her long brown hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail that waved down her back, nearly to her waist, yet she still looked like she could be royalty. Hollywood royalty, that was. Joe had heard rumors about her once having had to go to rehab for anorexia, but from the healthy, happy-looking pregnant woman standing before him he’d have never guessed.
James took a deep inhale and scrolled through his smartphone calendar, matching day for day, saying, “No. Nope. Not that one either. Hmm, maybe this one? September the first or the second?”
“Let’s take the first.” Freya quickly highlighted that day. “It is now written in stone. Do you hear me? There’s no getting out of it. You’ll show up and do those publicity photos in the clinic in South Central and smile like you mean it.”
“Of course I’ll mean it. I’m going for the children.”
“I know, but you know.” They passed a secret brother-sister glance, telling an entirely different story than the simple making of plans for publicity shots. Joe deduced that since Dr. Mila Brightman ran Bright Hope, she was the issue. She happened to be Freya’s best friend, and also the woman James had stood up on their wedding day. Or, at least, that was the scuttlebutt Stephanie the receptionist had told Joe one day on a break over coffee in the cafeteria. It had happened before Joe had started working there, she’d said, so all he could do was take Stephanie’s word for it. The woman really was a gossip. But, damn, if that was the case, no wonder James hesitated about going. How could he face her after dumping her on the day of her dream wedding?
Having achieved her purpose, Freya rushed off, no doubt wanting to end her day and get home to her husband Zack.
“The last thing I want to do is upset a pregnant lady,” James said to Joe in passing, “but, hey, you know all about that, right?”
The casual comment took Joe by surprise. At first he thought James was referring to his ex, Angela, but then realized he must have been referring to Jane Doe, aka Carey, who lived with him and happened to be just shy of four months pregnant.
“Tell me about it,” Joe said, hoping he’d recovered quickly enough not to seem like a bonehead, and pretending that pregnant ladies were indeed unpredictable and demanding, while knowing for a fact Carey was anything but.
* * *
On Friday night, at the end of the first week on the job for Carey, Joe insisted they stop for a fast-food burger on the way home. How could she have been in California for three weeks and not tried one? They didn’t even bother to wait to get home but devoured them immediately on the drive. Even though it definitely wasn’t on her second-trimester diet list, she’d never tasted a better cheeseburger in her life.
“My parents are having a barbecue on the Fourth of July,” Joe said, his mouth half-full, one hand on the steering wheel, the other clutching a double cheeseburger.
A national holiday had been the last thing on her mind lately. Plans seemed incomprehensible. She thought of that dreary apartment she’d almost taken and shivered at the thought of being on her own there, especially on the Fourth of July, grateful to have Joe’s sweet house and lovely garden in the back to look at. She’d be just fine.
“Do you want to come? They’d love to have you.”
What? He was inviting her to his parents’ home? Why? Out of his usual sense of obligation? “Oh, you don’t have to—”
“I want to, and my whole family’s going to be there so you can meet my sisters and brothers, too.”
“Do they know about me?” Why was he pushing to take her?
“I have a prying mother and a loose-lipped sister. Mom’s got this sixth sense about changes in my life, no doubt recently fueled by Lori loaning out some clothes.”
“The whole story?” She really didn’t want her personal failures shared, especially with Joe’s family.
He shook his head and took another bite of his burger. “I wouldn’t do that. You know better. But you said you wanted to be friends, and I take my friends to family barbecues.”
She’d put her foot down when she’d decided to stay with him. He’d agreed to consider her a friend. If this was his way of proving it, as confusing as it would be for her, not to mention nerve-racking, she really shouldn’t refuse to meet his family. It might set things back if she didn’t.
“Then I guess I’ll have to go.” She played coy, but cautious contentment she hadn’t felt in ages settled in a warm place behind her breastbone. This was more proof that Joe was nothing like Ross. He pushed her to get out and do things, got her a job, and now he wanted her to meet his family on Independence Day no less. Wow, what did it all mean?
Joe finished his hamburger as they neared his house. It’d tasted great, as always, but now his stomach felt a little unsettled. He’d tried not to think about the ramifications of what he’d just done, but couldn’t avoid it. Trust, or lack thereof, in women in general and Carey, by reason of her gender, made him have second thoughts about the invitation. The gift of Angela’s infidelity just kept on giving.
Maybe he’d jumped the gun in asking her to his parents’ Fourth of July party. It was too soon. She might get the wrong impression and he wasn’t anywhere ready to get close to her. He pulled into the driveway and rather than pull into the garage he parked under the small carport instead. It wasn’t like he could change the date of Independence Day, and for the record he wondered if he’d ever be in a place to trust a woman again, whether next week or two years from now.
But the damage had been done. He’d asked Carey to go along, and he couldn’t very well take the invitation back. He’d just have to live with it.
Once home, Carey went directly to her room to change her clothes, planning to watch a little TV to unwind after another busy evening shift at the end of her first week. But not without noticing a shift in his mood since he’d issued, and she’d accepted, the invitation to his parents’ Fourth of July barbecue. When she came back, Joe was already working out on the patio, hitting his punching bag like it was a full-out enemy. For someone who’d just wolfed down a double-double cheeseburger, French fries and a large soda, he looked the picture of health.
Feeling a bit guilt-ridden, she wandered into the dining room to have a better look, wondering if he’d taken his T-shirt off for her benefit. She particularly loved watching the muscles on his back ripple whenever he landed a good punch. She stood quietly, taking in the whole workout, admiring every inch of him.
Before she’d run away, she’d worried about ever having normal desire for a man again. Faking love with Ross had scarred her more than she’d ever dreamed. But it hadn’t stopped there. Ross had dominated her entire existence to the point of making her fear for her life. How could she ever desire a man who’d treated her like that?
Yet Joe, without even trying, brought out her most basic feelings. He turned her on. So confusing. Maybe she could blame that on the concussion or the pregnancy. Yet what a relief to know she was still a red-blooded woman with a normal sex drive.
With his back to her, he grunted and huffed as he punched the bag, and she could swear the muscles on his shoulders and arms grew more cut by the moment. Needing to either bite her knuckle to keep from groaning or do something to cool herself off, she chose to head to the kitchen for a bottle of water. When she opened the refrigerator, she grabbed one for Joe, too.
This time making her presence known, she went out onto the patio, setting his water near him. “You’re making me feel very guilty about having that burger and not intending to do my preggers exercises tonight, you know.”
Joe laughed, and because of it messed up his timing and the punch nearly missed the bag altogether. He went for the bottle. “Thanks.” Carey enjoyed watching his Adam’s apple move up and down his throat while he gulped the water. A few drops dribbled down his chest. Yeah, she noticed that, too.
Her eyes drifted to the jagged scar running across his ribs, still red and tender-looking. He’d been stabbed rescuing her. The thought seemed surreal and sent a barrage of intense feelings ranging from gratitude to lust to guilt rushing through her. On impulse she walked toward him, reached out and gingerly ran her fingers across the scar. His skin was damp, smooth and...
She slowly lifted her gaze from the fit washboard abs to his chest and the pumped pecs lightly dusted in dark hair, then onward to his strong chin and inviting mouth and last to his intensely brown, almost black with desire, eyes.
The moment, when they were up close and locked into each other’s stare like that, shuddered through her.
Feeling absurdly out of character in general, and especially because she was four months pregnant, she ignored her insecurities, focusing only on the consuming pull between them, making a trail with her fingertips across the expanse of his muscled torso, along the broad rim of his shoulder, then upward to his jaw.
She swallowed lightly in edgy anticipation.
He didn’t move, just kept willing her into the depth of his eyes, and she knew without a doubt he was as into this moment as she was. So she edged closer, lifted her chin and, though feeling breathy from nerves, she went for it, covering his mouth with a full-on kiss.
