Читать книгу Promises, Promises - Shelley Cooper - Страница 11

He had to stop thinking about her.

Marco knotted and cut the fifth of six required stitches on an eight-year-old’s chin and tried to make his mind blank. It was a waste of effort. If he didn’t know better, he could swear he was suturing Gretchen Montgomery’s image to the viewing screen of his mind, instead of closing a little girl’s cut.

He snipped the thread from the last suture and stood back to survey his handiwork. Neat. Clean. Although the cut had been a wide one, the scar should barely be noticeable.

It was the child’s silky brown hair that had him thinking of his landlady. This time. Over the past three days since her unexpected proposal, any variety of sights and sounds had served to bring her to mind. A woman’s laughter. A glimpse of a slender leg. Anyone with brown eyes. The sound of a car engine. It was driving him crazy.

The fact that they were having an uncharacteristically slow day in the E.R. wasn’t helping, either.

“All done, Taylor,” he said, after applying a bandage. “So, did I keep my word? Did it hurt?”

Taylor rewarded him with a wide, gap-toothed smile. “It didn’t hurt at all, Dr. Marco. Just like you promised. Thanks.”

“No thanks necessary. You were a very brave girl. But you might want to think twice the next time you decide to see if you can fly. I think you should leave that to birds and airplanes.”

“Okay,” she agreed readily, making Marco chuckle. The child was a good-natured imp. She was also, according to her mother, somewhat of a daredevil. Add inquisitive and extremely bright to the mix, and it was a given that this wouldn’t be her last trip to the pit, as everyone who worked there called the emergency room.

Still smiling, Marco turned to Taylor’s mother. “How are you doing?”

The woman gave a wan smile. “Honestly? She scared me half to death.”

“Well, you have my word that Taylor will be just fine.”

Once again, as Marco gave cleaning instructions and soothed the worried mother’s fears, thoughts of Gretchen Montgomery invaded his consciousness. They continued to bedevil him as he moved on to his next patient and throughout the remainder of his shift.

“I have to stop thinking about her,” he said out loud, hours later, as he stared unseeingly at a television drama. He’d been watching for twenty minutes, and he hadn’t the faintest idea what the story line was.

He couldn’t figure out his sudden fixation on a woman he barely knew. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had his share of relationships. According to Brian, he’d had more than his fair share. And when they’d ended, he’d never looked back. So why, when he hadn’t had so much as a date with his landlady, let alone a relationship with her, was she all he could think about?

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe if he had a brief affair with her, he would be able to get her out of his mind. After all, she had offered. Maybe this was his subconscious’s way of telling him that he’d been a fool to turn her down.

Fool or not, he knew his decision had been a wise one. Something just hadn’t seemed right about her unexpected proposition. Heaven forbid he should become entangled with her, only to discover she was some sort of psycho stalker, the way it often happened in movies where men were propositioned by women they didn’t know.

To show just how addled he’d become over her, his first thought when his doorbell rang at ten o’clock was that it was his landlady, coming to repeat her offer. Which was ridiculous. Other than to bring him a casserole the day he moved in, Gretchen Montgomery had never come to his door. If she needed to communicate with him, she left a note in his mailbox or a message on his answering machine.

But then, he reminded himself, prior to three days ago she’d never taken him for a car ride, either. Or propositioned him. She had been acting out of character lately. Was it so far-fetched to think she might be standing on his doorstep?

“This is getting ridiculous,” he muttered, climbing to his feet and walking out into the hallway. Mentally he vowed to put her out of his mind once and for all. Enough was enough.

“Hey, buddy,” Brian said when he opened the door.

Marco stood stock-still while he took in the sight of his best friend with a baby tucked in one arm and a diaper bag hanging from the other. Thoughts of Gretchen Montgomery fled as a sense of foreboding filled him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked urgently. “Is Kristen sick?”

Brian’s smile seemed forced. “Kristen’s fine. Can’t a guy drop in on his best friend, without his motives being suspect?”

“Not when he has his baby in tow. It’s ten o’clock, Bri. Rather late for the two of you to be out for an evening stroll. Isn’t it past her bedtime?”

“A little,” Brian agreed.

“Where’s Val?”

Brian looked over his shoulder to where a late model SUV idled at the curb. “Getting some things from the car. She’ll join us in a minute.”

Marco expelled an impatient breath. “Do you plan on keeping me in suspense forever, or are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

“You going to invite me inside?”

He stood aside while his friend filed past him into the hallway. “Okay, spill it,” he demanded.

Brian avoided eye contact. “In a minute. First, I need you to answer a couple of questions. Are you on your off stretch?”

One of the perks of working in the pit, other than not being tied to a patient list, was that he worked for three weeks straight, then had one week off. Yes, the nineteen days in a row he did work were grueling, but the nine days that he had free gave him ample time to recover. It also gave him time to spend with his family.

“As of four hours ago.”

“That’s what I thought.” Brian peered into the living room, where the television blared to an absent audience. “No date?”

“No date,” Marco replied with exaggerated patience.

“Okay, I’ll get to the point.” Brian drew a deep breath. “Since you’re free, I was wondering if you could do me a favor. A huge favor, actually. I was wondering if you could watch Kristen for Val and me.”

Marco felt his eyebrows climb. “Kristen? As in the baby in your arms? As in six months old?”

“Seven.”

“What?”

“She’s seven months old.”

Marco couldn’t quite grasp the importance of that distinction, but he supposed he could humor his friend. “I could watch her for an hour or two.”

Brian bit his lip. “Well, see, that’s the problem. I need you to keep her for the weekend. Actually, I kind of already told Val you would.”

The shock momentarily robbed Marco of speech. “The entire weekend?”

“My back’s to the wall here, buddy. Val and I have plans to spend the weekend together at a bed and breakfast in Maryland. We need the time alone to try and patch up our marriage. We had a baby-sitter all lined up, but a family emergency forced her to cancel at the last minute. I’ve called everyone on my Rolodex. No one is available.”

“But me.”

“But you,” Brian confirmed.

“I don’t know anything about taking care of babies, Bri.”

“You’re a doctor, Marco.”

Marco spread his arms. “So?”

“So, you should know all about babies.”

“And you of all people should know that what my being a doctor means is that, in medical school, they taught me how to deliver a baby. They taught me how to examine one medically. They never touched on day-to-day care. Perhaps, being a pediatrician yourself, you’ve forgotten all that.”

“You’re an uncle,” Brian said. “Surely you’ve been around babies.”

“I am, and I have. But my brother Roberto had his kids when I was in medical school, so I didn’t pay all that much attention. And the only time I hold my sister, Kate’s, baby is when she’s happy and gurgling. The minute she starts crying, I hand her back.”

“There’s nothing to it,” Brian assured him. “Kristen’s a good baby. All you have to do is feed her, change her diaper and keep an eye on her when she’s crawling around, so she doesn’t get into trouble.”

Marco felt his lips twist. “Really? Is that all?”

Brian tossed a quick glance over Marco’s shoulder, and his voice took on a new urgency. “Val’s coming. Please, Marco. I’m begging you. This might be the last chance I have to convince her that we can make our marriage work.”

Marco heaved a weary sigh. Brian was his best friend. And he truly did seem desperate.

“Okay. I’ll watch her. But only if you think I can really do the job.”

Relief filled Brian’s eyes. “You can do it. I have faith in you. Thanks, Marco. I owe you big-time.”

“Don’t think I’m going to let you forget it, either.”

Val breezed through the door. “Sure you really want to do this?” she asked, depositing what looked like enough gear to furnish a small room on his living room floor.

“I wouldn’t have volunteered, if I didn’t,” he replied.

Raising up on tiptoe, she kissed him warmly on the cheek, then moved to take Kristen from Brian. Her voice was noticeably cooler when she spoke to her husband.

“Could you bring in the car seat, the portable crib and the swing from the porch? I need to go over a few things with Marco before we leave.”

With a nod Brian disappeared outside. When Val turned to face Marco, her smile seemed forced. The strain was taking its toll on her, he realized, noticing for the first time how thin she’d grown.

“Diapers and clothing are in the diaper bag,” Val instructed, “along with the phone number where you can reach us in event of emergency. Formula, baby food and bottles are in the brown bag, toys in the blue. Kristen takes a bottle every four hours and a jar of baby food at mealtime. You can heat the bottle in the microwave, as long as you test it first, but the baby food is okay at room temperature. If she gets fussy, just put her in her swing, and she usually calms down right away.”

Having deposited the items she’d asked for behind the sofa, Brian moved to his wife’s side and ran a hand down her arm. Marco almost winced when Val flinched away from the caress.

“It’s time to go, honey,” Brian said firmly.

Val bit her lip, then gave her daughter a final hug and kissed her on the forehead. “You be a good baby for Marco, okay?”

“She’s going to be a sweetheart, aren’t you?” Brian said, taking Kristen from Val and handing her to Marco.

“She really likes it when you sing to her at bedtime,” Val said quickly, as, taking her by the arm, Brian dragged her into the hallway. “And she loves sleeping with her little pink pillow. Oh, and she’s crazy about stairs, so you’re really going to have to watch her around them.”

At the door she turned back, indecision written all over her face. “Maybe we shouldn’t go. This is too much to ask of you.”

“Go,” Marco said firmly. “Kristen and I will be just fine.”

“We have to go, honey,” Brian repeated. “Now.” To Marco he added, “We’ll be back around six o’clock Sunday night.”

“We’ll be here,” Marco assured him. “Have a wonderful time.”

The whole way down the sidewalk, Val kept her head turned over her shoulder and her gaze on her daughter. She looked as if she might be going to protest some more when they reached the SUV, but Brian finally coaxed her inside. After practically running to the driver’s side, he gave Marco a final wave before speeding off.

Marco closed the front door and looked down at the child in his arms. Kristen gazed unblinkingly at him for the space of ten seconds before screwing up her tiny face and wailing at the top of her lungs.

Gretchen could swear she heard a baby crying. Raising up on her elbows, she cocked her head and listened carefully. Yes, there it was again. A cry, faint but unmistakable.

It couldn’t be a baby, she told herself, shaking her head. The only family with an infant on her block were the Ericksons, and they lived five houses away. Her windows were closed, and the air-conditioning was on full blast. A baby’s cries just didn’t carry that far. No, it couldn’t be a baby.

Sinking back into the cocoon of pillows she’d piled against her headboard, Gretchen crossed her ankles and focused on the schedule she’d painstakingly filled out with all the activities she planned on accomplishing over the following week. Counting both weekends, she only had nine days, and she wanted to use her time as efficiently as possible. She had a lot of lost time to make up for. Before she found herself chained to her desk again, she wanted to experience everything she could.

A shiver of anticipation raced up her spine as she reread the list of her planned activities. She really was looking forward to doing all of the things she’d never been allowed to do as a child, or gotten around to doing as an adult. It was going to be such fun.

Tapping the lid of her pen against her teeth, she decided that she definitely needed to make room for a trip to Kennywood Park and a ride on its premier roller coaster, The Phantom’s Revenge. That was a must. It was also imperative that she walk barefoot through her local park. That should be easy to squeeze in somewhere. Her brow furrowed in concentration. Had she forgotten anything else?

The sound she’d heard earlier distracted her again, and Gretchen lowered the schedule to her lap. Sure did sound like a baby was crying somewhere.

It was probably just a pair of amorous cats out in back by the garage, she finally decided. Their cries often mimicked those of an infant. Although this particular pair of cats seemed to be enjoying themselves for an unprecedented length of time.

Gretchen felt her lips twist mockingly. It was a sorry state of affairs when the neighborhood cats’ love lives were far more exciting than her own. But then, hadn’t that always been the case?

Maybe it wouldn’t be for much longer, though. If she opened herself up to experience all that the world had to offer, who knew? She could stumble across Mr. Right tomorrow. Crazier things had happened.

The peal of her doorbell shattered a fantasy of Gretchen and a Mr. Right, who looked suspiciously like her tenant, floating together amid a shower of rose petals down an aisle toward a smiling priest. With a sigh and a rueful glance at her schedule, she shrugged into her robe and slippers. Who could be ringing her doorbell at this time of night?

As she descended the stairs, the wails that had puzzled her for the past few minutes grew in intensity. This time there was no mistaking it. This wasn’t a pair of amorous cats. The sound filling her ears was definitely a baby’s cries. Could the Ericksons be in some kind of trouble and need her help?

Rushing to the door, she flung it wide. Her mouth dropped open when she saw Marco Garibaldi on her doorstep with a squalling infant in his arms. As her gaze ran from one to the other, she couldn’t decide who looked more miserable: Marco, with his weary eyes and tousled hair, or the baby, whom, by the pink romper she wore, Gretchen assumed was a girl.

“Yours?” she asked quietly.

Marco grimaced. “A loaner.”

Gretchen continued to stare at him in bemusement. “I’ve heard of borrowing a cup of sugar. I’ve even heard of borrowing someone’s car. But I have to tell you, I’ve never heard of borrowing a baby.”

“She’s my best friend’s child. He and his wife are away for the weekend, trying to save their marriage.”

“And you volunteered to baby-sit.”

“In a roundabout way.” He looked pained. “As you can see, I’m not doing a very good job.”

All Gretchen could see was that he’d never looked more virile than he did at that moment, with his shirttail pulled loose from his jeans, more than a hint of five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and the light of panic in his gorgeous brown eyes. Was there anything more appealing to a woman than a big, strong man who was helpless in the face of a crying baby?

That he was a doctor only enhanced that appeal. Gretchen knew without a doubt that, had the infant been a patient in the emergency room, Marco would have handled her cries with confidence. But because she was in his care and because he obviously knew little about babies outside of an examining room, he was at a total loss.

“You do look like you’re having a bit of trouble,” she said.

“She won’t stop crying,” he replied, his frustration obvious. “I was hoping you could tell me what I’m doing wrong.”

Reaching out, Gretchen plucked the wailing infant from his arms and cradled her close. “What’s her name?”

“Kristen.”

“Hey, Kristen,” Gretchen crooned, swaying from side to side. “What’s all this crying about? You don’t want to cry anymore, do you? Crying just makes a lady’s face all red and splotchy. Very unappealing to the opposite sex.”

After a couple of hiccups and sniffles, Kristen quieted and gazed up at Gretchen with curious eyes.

“There,” Gretchen said, smiling. To her delight Kristen smiled back. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

“How did you do that?” Marco sounded so thunder-struck, it was hard for her not to laugh.

“It’s all in the way you hold them,” she explained. “Babies can sense when you’re uneasy around them. It makes them nervous.”

“And when they’re nervous, they cry,” he murmured.

She nodded. “At the top of their lungs.”

“Tell me about it.” He thrust a hand through hair that looked as if it had seen the motion often in recent minutes.

Gretchen’s heart melted. “It was hard on you, wasn’t it?” she said sympathetically.

“I’m not used to crying like that.”

No, she conceded, he probably wasn’t. Most females were undoubtedly putty in his hands. Truth was, if he smiled encouragingly at her, she’d be putty in his hands. She gazed at Kristen with new respect.

She moved back into the hallway, and he followed her inside. “You were holding her all wrong,” she said.

“What was wrong with the way I was holding her?”

Gretchen chuckled. “Nothing, if she was a piece of porcelain you were afraid of breaking. But she’s not a piece of porcelain. She’s a flesh-and-blood baby. You were holding her away from you, and babies like to be cuddled close. They need to feel the warmth from your skin, to hear your heartbeat and be encircled in your arms. They need reassurance that your only concern is for them alone.”

Babies weren’t the only ones who needed that reassurance. Where Marco Garibaldi was concerned, the words could have just as easily applied to Gretchen herself. What was it about him that made it impossible for her to look at him without her knees going weak? Why did he fascinate her so? In the end it didn’t really matter, since he’d plainly shown her, in both word and deed, that he would never hold her the way she was instructing him to hold Kristen.

Shoving her disturbing thoughts aside, she said, “Pick them up with authority and cuddle them close. If they still cry, usually one of three things is wrong.”

“What are the three things?”

“They’re either hungry, tired or wet.”

“How do you know which is which?”

“Process of elimination. Start with changing her. If that doesn’t work, feed her. Then, after that, if she’s still crying, put her to bed.” She held Kristen out to him. “Want to give it another try?”

He looked terrified, but he took the child in his arms. This time he cuddled her close to his heart. After a minute, when Kristen didn’t protest, he looked over at Gretchen with wonder in his eyes.

“She’s not crying.”

“No,” Gretchen said gently, feeling her heart thump, “she’s not.”

“Maybe I can do this after all.”

“I know you can.”

The expression on his face changed. “Uh-oh.”

“What?”

“She might not be crying, but this child is definitely wet.”

“Let me guess,” Gretchen said wryly. “You’ve never changed a diaper.”

He shook his head. “Not even in med school.”

“Do you have any diapers?”

“Upstairs.”

She nodded to the door. “Lead the way. Who knows? If you’re nice to me, I might even show you how to make formula.”

She hadn’t meant the words to sound so provocative, but she knew by the look Marco tossed her that they did. When he passed by her without comment and went out onto the porch, she didn’t know whether to be thankful or disappointed.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she found herself avidly studying her surroundings when she followed Marco inside his half of the duplex. To her left, the living room was furnished nicely with a leather sofa and love seat and a big-screen television. A beautiful oriental carpet in varying shades of brown sat in the middle of the floor. If the open book on an end table and the mail scattered across the surface of the coffee table were anything to go by, this was where Marco spent most of his time.