Marriage by Contract
Sandra Steffen
As a devastating summer storm hits Grand Springs, Colorado, the next thirty-six hours will change the town and its residents forever…
From the first moment she sees him, nurse Bethany Kent falls in love with little baby Christopher, who’s been abandoned by his mother. She dreams of adopting him, but in small town Grand Springs she’ll need a husband in order to adopt a child.
Dr. Tony Petrocelli has a reputation for romance. In reality, he’s tired of short-term relationships and intrigued by Bethany. And if he’s going to get that promotion to Head of Obstetrics, he needs to show the Board he’s a stable family man by getting married.
A marriage of convenience can help them both. As long as Tony never learns Beth’s secret, it’s the perfect solution….
Book 8 of the 36 Hours series. Don’t miss Book 9: A straight-arrow cop is attracted to his prime suspect in a murder investigation in Partners in Crime by award-winning author Alicia Scott.
Marriage by Contract
Sandra Steffen
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
Prologue (#u3b969c36-3f5f-555f-a83c-0583d7e24268)
Chapter One (#uc5084c2e-e072-566f-8d10-c355d8bf53de)
Chapter Two (#ufbad40be-7976-52e5-b3be-6d24c164cbab)
Chapter Three (#u5cb309d8-e8b6-5189-8375-562a24d8b508)
Chapter Four (#udc7ded5b-ccb2-55d8-b613-18d399f3b53d)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Prologue
June 6, 1997, 10:00 p.m.
“Somebody help me. It hurts. Make it stop. Please, make it stop.”
Bethany Kent placed an ice pack on a patient’s swollen wrist, her feet already moving in the direction of the quavering voice. Wheelchairs and gurneys blocked her path, and men, women and children all looked up as she passed, worry and pain and shock in their eyes.
It had been almost three hours since a mud slide took out the power in Grand Springs, Colorado, and the rain had yet to let up. Most of the people were here tonight because of car accidents due to the mud, the driving rain and the absence of street and traffic lights throughout the city. Some had sustained injuries from falling down stairs or tripping over furniture. Even the mayor had been brought in—the victim of an apparent heart attack. Beth was nearly asleep on her feet, and there was no end in sight.
Thunder rolled in from the mountains, rattling the windows and stirring up the overwrought patients huddled together in the emergency room. The lights dimmed, sending a hush from one end of the room to the other. An old man’s gravelly voice cut through the tense silence. “The generator’s going out. Without lights, the doctors will have to wait until morning to fix us up.”
Others took up the cry. By the time Beth slid her arm around the teenage girl who was doubled over in pain near the door, some of the patients were rocking back and forth, others were starting to wail.
In a voice as sure and steady as her hands, Beth said, “I’ve worked in the ER long enough to know the ins and outs of the generators Vanderbilt Memorial uses during emergencies such as this one. And believe me, the lights are not going to go out.”
Turning her attention to the girl who was moaning softly, she ignored the sheen of perspiration dampening the hair on her own forehead, and placed her hand on the girl’s abdomen, which was taut with another contraction. “Dave,” she called to a clerk near the desk on the other side of the room. “Find Dr. Petrocelli. Stat. Tell him we have another mother in labor.”
The girl tried to straighten but couldn’t. “I can’t have the baby yet. It’s ten weeks early.”
Beth did her best to hide the anxiety twisting the knot in her stomach as Dr. Amanda Jennings joined her. A baby born ten weeks premature would be tiny, its lungs dangerously underdeveloped. As the two women helped the young mother to a vacant wheelchair, Beth had her first glimpse of pale skin, big eyes and a narrow face framed with a tangle of wet, dark hair sticking out of a tattered baseball cap. Sweet heaven, the girl was just a baby herself.
“What’s your name?” Beth asked as they wheeled her into a trauma room and prepared to move her to the examining table.
Blue eyes rose to hers. “Annie. Annie Moore. Will you help me?” the girl pleaded, looking from Beth to Amanda Jennings.
Beth had seen lives saved, and she’d seen lives lost. Neither ever failed to move her. But nothing in all her thirty-five years had ever touched her more deeply than the entreaty and the unusual flicker of bravery in Annie Moore’s eyes. Blinking back the tears that always seemed close to the surface these days, Beth nodded. “We’ll help you.”
The girl folded over as another contraction racked her thin body. Beth didn’t like the looks of this. The pains were coming fast and furious with little time in between.
She was in the process of helping Annie into bed when Dr. Tony Petrocelli pushed into the room, past Dr. Noah Howell. Dr. Petrocelli’s scrub suit was clean, and a face mask and stethoscope hung from his neck. The black stubble of his day-old beard was testimony to the fact that he’d been here for twenty-four hours, at least.
“Hello,” he said matter-of-factly. “Who have we got here?”
“We don’t have anyone. I’m here by myself. And my name is Annie. Am I going to die?”
Dr. Petrocelli glanced at the girl, obviously taking her terse words in stride. “No. I’m Dr. Tony Petrocelli. It’s nice to meet you. How old are you, Annie?”
“Seventeen. How old are you?”
An arched eyebrow was the doctor’s only indication of surprise. “I’m thirty-six. Nice night to have a baby.”
The line creasing his lean cheek and his notorious half smile didn’t seem to faze the girl. Squaring her jaw and straightening her shoulders, she said, “I’m not having the baby tonight. It’s too early. I’m not ready. For once in my life, I’m going to do something right. So just make it stop.”
Beth spared another glance at Dr. Petrocelli. She’d heard all the rumors and tall tales about the sexual prowess of the Don Juan of Vanderbilt Memorial. She’d seen him in the cafeteria, the corridors and elevators, but until now, she’d never actually worked with him. And she’d certainly never understood how a man with his image could also have the reputation for being one of the best obstetricians in Colorado. It didn’t take long for her to understand.
While Beth held the girl’s hand, showed her how to breathe and bathed her face with cool water, Tony conducted a quick examination. All the while, he talked to Annie, asking her questions about her pregnancy, the weather, and then moved on to about a dozen other topics. His voice was a husky baritone, his lips prone to smiling. His touch was strong and sure and was meant to put patients at ease, even through his latex gloves. “I’ll be right back,” he said, then motioned Dr. Jennings and Dr. Howell out to the hallway. Moments later he returned. Going around to the other side of the bed, he looked directly into Annie’s eyes and said, “Your labor is too far advanced to stop. This baby wants to be born tonight. Let’s get to work. Dr. Jennings here is going to help out.”
Beth had expected panic, stark and vivid, to glitter in Annie’s eyes, but she hadn’t expected the shuddering breath the girl took or the pride and determination thickening her voice as she said, “My sister’s name was Christie, so if the baby’s a girl, I’m going to name her Christina. Christopher, if it’s a boy. I just want you to know. In case something happens.”
The girl cried out with the next contraction, and there was no time to reassure her. She groaned, bore down and cried out again, clutching Beth’s hand, straining, hurting. She breathed when she could, pushed when she had to, and wept, her face contorting in pain a girl her age shouldn’t have to endure. And then, after a momentary stillness, a baby’s weak cry wavered through the room.
“It’s a boy!” Dr. Petrocelli called.
“A boy?” Annie cried. “Is he all right?”
“He’s tiny, but he has all ten fingers and toes.”
Smiling around the lump in her throat, Beth wrapped little Christopher in a blanket, then held him up so his mother could see. Lord, he was small, but he was alive.
“Can I hold him?” Annie asked.
Beth placed the baby in his mother’s arms for but a moment while the doctor cut the cord, then she whisked him away into a mobile incubator for his trip to the neonatal unit upstairs. Annie’s voice stopped her at the door. “Promise you’ll take care of him for me?”
Touching the baby gently, Beth turned. The young girl looked weak and exhausted and so alone Beth would have promised her anything. “I’ll take care of him, Annie. You have my word.”
For some reason, her gaze trailed to the foot of the bed where Dr. Petrocelli was standing. He was tall and dark, and looked as if he could have just stepped off a steamship from southern Italy. Even tired, his features were striking and strong—his nose, his chin, his cheekbones. But it was his eyes that held her spellbound. She knew the moment only lasted for the span of one heartbeat, but in that instant, everything went strangely still. His look warmed her in ways she hadn’t expected, and didn’t want to examine.
The baby moved beneath her hand, and the moment broke. With one last glance at Annie, Beth turned and left.
Tony heard the swish of the door and saw the blur of an auburn braid as Bethany Kent disappeared. He was aware of the whir of a fan, the strong scent of disinfectant and the floor beneath his feet. But he felt frozen in time, and in place. He’d delivered hundreds of babies, had been yelled at and kicked and hit. He’d witnessed countless moments of joy and tears and happiness at that first tiny cry. But he’d never felt exactly the way he had during that brief instant when his gaze had met Bethany’s.
He’d seen her around the hospital and had heard rumors about a recent divorce. Although she kept to herself, he’d noticed her the way all men notice all women. But he hadn’t had this gut-wrenching, knee-jerk reaction to her before. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so…so—hell, he didn’t even know what to call it.
Telling himself the jolt of longing that pulsed suddenly in the very center of him was a result of too little sleep, too many patients and an adrenaline surge due to the emergency, he shook his head to clear it, then turned back to the seventeen-year-old girl who was crying, and trying not to let it show.
Chapter One
Bethany walked through the automatic door, her senses assaulted with the sudden burst of air-conditioning and the smell and clatter of patients’ supper trays. After saying hello to the lab technicians heading for the cafeteria, she rounded a corner, her footsteps slowing to accommodate all the people milling around in front of the elevators. Too restless to wait, she spun around and took the stairs.
The exercise felt good. Maybe climbing eighteen or nineteen flights of stairs would ease the dread and disappointment dogging her steps. Unfortunately, Vanderbilt Memorial had only four floors. Beth stopped at the third.
She’d just come from the social worker’s office downtown. All the deep breaths she’d taken since her meeting with Mrs. Donahue had failed to dull the sharp edges from the words still echoing through Beth’s head.
“I know you love Christopher, Bethany,” Mrs. Donahue had said. “And I think you’d be a wonderful mother. But even in this day and age, our court system prefers two-parent homes, especially in infant adoptions. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid your only hope is to get married.”
Beth was no stranger to marriage. She’d been married for seven years. The attorney who’d handled the divorce had casually dubbed Barry’s quest to end the marriage “the seven year itch.” Of course, the legal terminology he’d used in court was irreconcilable differences. Nobody had addressed the real reason Barry had wanted a divorce. But Bethany knew.
Her stomach roiled, a combination of the smell of hospital food, her dark thoughts and the memory of Mrs. Donahue’s parting words. Forcing her worries to the back of her mind, she strode down the hall to the nursery.
Kitty Garcia looked up from the diaper she was changing and slanted Beth a genuine smile. “Hi, Beth. You’re a little later than usual today.”
“I had an appointment,” Beth answered, her gaze automatically trailing to the other side of the glass. Already smiling at the tiny hands flailing over the top of the incubator, she strode to the sink, scrubbed her hands and donned a sterile gown. The sadness and despair she’d felt since her meeting with Mrs. Donahue faded the instant she took Christopher in her arms.
Lord, he smelled sweet, all talcum powder and baby innocence. She kissed his cheek, his chin and the tiny fold of skin at his neck. “Hello, sweet pea,” she whispered. “How’s my big boy today?”
She was almost sure she heard him sigh. Holding him several inches from her face, she smiled at him, marveling at his serious expression. He was two months and three weeks old, and he was slowly but surely gaining weight. It was a little too soon to tell what color his eyes would be, but his little head was covered with a layer of fine, dark hair a shade or two lighter than his mother’s.
Nobody had seen Annie Moore since she’d left the hospital shortly after Christopher was born. With all the confusion and chaos in the aftermath of the enormous storm that ravaged Grand Springs, no one knew exactly when she’d disappeared. The girl had given her child life. She’d even given him a name and filled out his birth certificate. And then she’d left. Beth knew it was unusual for a mother who planned to abandon her child to sign the birth certificate. But Annie had…and it was definitely complicating the adoption process.
For the life of her, Beth didn’t understand why the young woman had left. Maybe she hadn’t planned to leave Christopher behind. Or maybe she’d decided she couldn’t raise him on her own. Whatever the reason, Beth prayed that nothing bad had happened to Annie Moore.
“Take care of him for me.”
At the time, Beth had assumed Annie had meant it in a temporary sense, but as the days and weeks had passed without word from the young woman, she’d begun to wonder if Annie had meant forever.
And forever was what Beth wanted with this child. As she stared into Christopher’s eyes, a yearning so deep and so strong wrapped around her heart and squeezed like a fist. “I love you,” she whispered. “If I was your mother, I’d make you feel safe and secure and well loved. Oh, Christopher, you really are a miracle baby, do you know that?”
Christopher looked up at her, his expression so earnest she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He weighed less than five pounds, but his personality was ten times that big, and so was his will to live. The first two months of his life had been difficult. His lungs had been underdeveloped, and he was so tiny at birth that many people hadn’t expected him to survive. The infection he’d gotten had weakened him further, but the little scrapper had clung to life by a thread. And through it all, Beth had stood by his incubator. On breaks, during her lunch hour and long after her shift was over, she’d laid her hand on his tiny body that was hooked up to so many wires and tubes he couldn’t be picked up. Talking to him, reassuring him that she was there.
She’d never forget the day more than a month ago when she’d looked up from the chair where she was rocking Christopher and found Travis Stockwell and Peggy Saxon watching from the other side of the window, a twin in each of their arms. She’d appreciated their smiles and nods of encouragement, but she couldn’t help noticing the differences between their babies and the child she was holding. Little Travis and Virginia had been born the day after Christopher. Even though they were twins and had come into this world in a cab during the terrible storm, they were already chubby and wiggly and strong.
Just as Christopher would be soon, Beth reminded herself.
Barring any more setbacks, he’d be ready to leave the hospital in a week or so. She couldn’t think of anything in the world she wanted more than to be able to take him home and make him her son.
“Your only hope is to get married.”
The last Beth knew, husbands didn’t grow on trees, although her closest friend claimed that now and then they’d been known to crawl out from under rocks. Thoughts of Jenna made her smile, just as they always did. But no matter what Jenna said, Beth hadn’t found Barry under a rock. He happened to be bright and articulate and was an extremely successful corporate attorney. She’d loved him, and she’d thought he loved her. But a person couldn’t love someone and then casually throw them away. She was still aching from the events of the past year, but she had to hand it to Barry; he certainly knew the ins and outs of obtaining a divorce. Beth only wished adopting Christopher could be half as easy.
She fed the baby his bottle, burped him and changed him, then stood next to his incubator and watched him sleep. She’d never experienced the joy of feeling a baby grow beneath her heart, but she knew how it felt to have a child grow within it, as Christopher had.
If only wishes made things so, she thought to herself, finally turning to leave. Too tired to stave off the sadness that had been building up inside her since Mrs. Donahue’s parting words, Beth walked through the corridors, her arms folded, her footsteps quiet and slow.
A man’s voice drew her from her thoughts. “The hospital board wants to promote you to head of obstetrics, Tony, but they think it would look a lot better if you were married.”
Everybody in the hospital knew Dr. Noah Howell’s voice. And there was only one Tony on staff at Vanderbilt Memorial.
Suddenly alert, Beth glanced at the stairway at the end of the hall, and at the light spilling from the open doorway ten feet away. If she continued on toward the stairs, she would run the risk of interrupting the conversation between the two doctors. Glancing over her shoulder, she decided to head for the elevators.
Suddenly, an idea too absurd to contemplate froze her feet to the floor.
* * *
Tony Petrocelli took a deep breath, let it all out, then paced to the other side of the room. Shaking his head, he faced his friend and fellow doctor, but for the life of him, he didn’t know what to say. He was still in a state of shock due to the latest incident during which a patient—a stark-naked, voluptuous, single patient—made a pass at him in his own examining room. He’d heard the nicknames people called him when they thought he was out of hearing distance—the Don Juan of Vanderbilt Memorial, the Italian Stallion—but the forwardness of some of his patients was getting out of hand.
Scrubbing a hand across his face, he said, “Noah, are you telling me the board won’t give me the promotion unless I get married?”
“No, that isn’t what I said or what they said, at least not exactly. And you don’t have to make marriage sound like a death warrant.”
Tony strode to the window. Staring at the parking lot below and the mountain peaks rising in the west, he knew he could have dismissed Noah’s statement easily enough. After all, Noah Howell was a newlywed himself, and Tony had always suspected that married people belonged to a secret club and earned points for signing up their unsuspecting friends. He’d been ignoring his sisters’ attempts for years. But it was getting more and more difficult to dismiss his parents’ subtle hints about their only son’s bachelor status. And these blatant come-ons from his patients were becoming more frequent. One of these days, one of them could cost him his career.
Turning around, he looked at Noah, who was lounging comfortably in a chair on the other side of the desk. Rubbing at a bothersome knot in the back of his neck, Tony said, “I suppose you’re right about one thing, Noah. My life would definitely be a lot simpler if there was a wedding band on my finger.”
The other man’s laughter drew Tony’s eyebrows down. Noah Howell had a reputation for being responsible, dedicated and serious. Until a couple of months ago, he’d been no more prone to outbursts of laughter than he was to whistling. That was before he and Dr. Amanda Jennings had been thrown together during the blackout. Tony didn’t know what had been in the air that night, but strange things had been happening ever since. Some of them were sad and shocking, such as the murder of Grand Springs’ mayor, Olivia Stuart. Others, like Noah and Amanda’s surprise engagement and subsequent wedding, had been much happier events.
“Think about it, Tony,” Noah insisted. “Amanda says there isn’t a woman in this hospital, single or otherwise, except for her, of course, whose smile doesn’t get just a little brighter when you walk by. Surely one of them has caught your fancy, if you know what I mean.”
Tony scowled. “I always know what you mean these days, Noah, and frankly, I liked you a lot better when you had a shorter fuse.”
“No, you didn’t, and I’m a little surprised you’ve noticed that I’ve changed.”
Tony clamped his mouth shut on the first thing that sprang to his mind and walked straight out the door. Giving it a hard yank behind him, he spun around. And collided with a woman’s slender body.
He heard a startled “oh!” and caught a glimpse of Beth Kent’s auburn hair and wide blue eyes before his vision blurred. “Whoa,” he said, his hands shooting out to steady her. “Sorry about that. I didn’t even see you coming.”
That happened to him a lot, but no matter what anybody said, he wasn’t really absentminded. He simply didn’t pay attention to the world around him unless it concerned him. And this sudden pulsing sensation pounding through the very center of him definitely had him concerned.
“That’s all right,” she said. “It was my fault.”
Her voice sounded kind of breathless, and made him wonder if her heart had jolted and her pulse was accelerating, too. He knew of one way to find out, but this wasn’t a private corridor, and Beth was inching away from him.
No matter what Amanda and Noah said, not every woman’s smile brightened when he passed. His eyes had sought Beth’s often since the night of the blackout. Although his body always did its part, his heart speeding up and his breathing slowing down, the most he’d ever gotten from her was a quick nod and a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. In fact, this was the closest he’d been to her in two-and-a-half months.
Fortified by the memory of the brief brush of her body against his moments ago, and intrigued by the expression on her face right now, he said, “Unless you threw yourself at me on purpose, I don’t see how this could have been your fault.”
Beth was accustomed to taking blame, and would have liked to convince herself that the reason her nerves were standing on end was because there was no reproach whatsoever in Tony Petrocelli’s eyes. Unfortunately, she’d never mastered the fine art of lying, not to others, and certainly not to herself. That meant her heart was fluttering in her chest for another reason entirely.
“Did you throw yourself at me on purpose, Beth?”
At a loss for something clever to say, Beth could only shake her head and stare. Tony Petrocelli was standing a few feet away, one hand on his hip, the other in his pocket. A white shirt that had probably been wrinkle-free when he put it on was tucked into the waistband of low-slung dress pants. His lips were full for a man’s and were parted slightly, drawing attention to his mouth.
Beth’s heart thudded once, then settled back into its normal rhythm. There was no doubt about it. He had the looks, the style and, oh yes, the moves to unsettle a feminine heart. The question was, did she have the nerve to unsettle his?
Good Lord, what was she thinking?
He took one long, smooth step toward her. Lifting her chin, she held his gaze and drew on every last ounce of courage she possessed. Keeping her voice quiet so that no one else would hear, she said, “Although I didn’t actually throw myself at you, I was waiting for you.”
“I like the sound of that.”
Beth was at a loss for words all over again. As one moment stretched to two, his gaze left hers and trailed over her body in that anything-but-subtle way men had. Before she lost all her nerve, she took a deep breath and wavered him a smile. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with Dr. Howell. Perhaps I can help.”
Tony felt a fast little jolt, followed by a rousing dose of pure attraction. He had no idea what Noah had to do with any of this, but he could think of one way that Beth could help. Moving even closer, he lowered his voice and said, “I’m listening.”
She wet her lips, then glanced in every direction. Following the course of her gaze, he felt a tightening in his throat and a chugging in his chest. Doing everything in his power to let her set the pace, he whispered, “I think the coast is clear.”
He could see her breath catch in her throat, could practically hear her thoughts screeching to a stop. For a moment, he thought she might kiss him, here and now. Instead, she lowered her voice to but a whisper and said, “I heard Dr. Howell mention that you could use a wife.”
Tony went perfectly still, his eyes trained on Beth. Her auburn hair was pulled back, curly wisps framing a face that had gone noticeably pale. As if she read the question in his eyes, she finally said, “I, er, um, that is, I’d like to apply for the position.”
Blood pounded through Tony’s brain. Through the roaring din, he managed to say only one word. “Position?”
She nodded, her eyes growing more wary by the second.
“Are you telling me you’d like to be my wife?”
She nodded again and slowly lowered her gaze.
He snapped his mouth shut, but still he couldn’t move. She’d knocked the wind out of him, and she hadn’t even laid a hand on him.
His cell phone beeped. Incoming text: Dr. Petrocelli, please report to OB.
The sound of his phone jerked them apart like a bolt of lightning, then froze them in a stunned tableau all over again. “Look, Beth, I don’t know what to say.”
Beth had never heard of anyone dying of embarrassment, but she wasn’t so sure she wouldn’t be the first. She moved backward, holding up both hands in a halting gesture. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. Just forget I ever mentioned this. And I’ll do the same.”
When he continued staring at her, unmoving, she seized her opportunity and fled. She listened for the sound of footsteps behind her. Thankful that none came, she hurried down the stairs the way she should have done in the first place. At the landing between floors, she dropped her face into her hands. Her cheeks were on fire, and so was her pride. Mingling with her embarrassment and sheer humiliation was the deep-seated sadness that Christopher would never be hers.
* * *
“The doctors think Christopher will be ready to leave the hospital soon. Isn’t that wonderful?” Beth asked as she dusted a shelf of mining supplies and trinkets in her best-friend’s store.
The soft clink and jingle of bangle bracelets was the only indication Beth had that she wasn’t alone in the room. “Jenna?”
At the sound of more jingling, and nothing else, she turned around. “Don’t you think that’s wonderful news?”
Jenna Brigante tossed her waist-length black hair over her shoulder and flipped the Closed sign in the window of The Silver Gypsy. Instead of turning the lock, she swung around, her gauzy skirt swishing around her knees. “Not only do I think that’s wonderful, but I told you it was wonderful the first three times you mentioned it.”
“Oh. I must be repeating myself.”
“I live in an old prospector’s cabin in the mountains with only crows for company much of the time. So if you think I mind hearing about Christopher, think again. In fact, if you want to tell me one more time, be my guest. And then, when you’ve run out of diversions, you can tell me what’s really on your mind tonight.”
Beth folded her arms and studied her friend. Jenna looked every bit like the gypsies she claimed were her ancestors, from her big brown eyes to her low-necked blouse, all the way to the strappy sandals on her feet. What she lacked in height, she more than made up for with personality. She said she was thirty-two “springs” old, and had an incredibly straightforward way of saying exactly what she was thinking, not to mention an uncanny ability to read every nuance of a person’s expression and behavior. She was the only person Beth knew who could swear in four languages, and the only person who accepted Beth exactly as she was.
Straightening a display of silver baubles and charms and necklaces, Beth said, “I saw Barry today.”
Jenna made a derisive sound. “I suppose it’s inevitable. In a city of over sixty thousand people, you never run into an old friend or former classmate, but ex-husbands appear on every corner. How is old Barry, anyway?”
Setting a string of Romany wind chimes in motion, Beth said, “He seemed all right. Better than all right, actually, especially while he was introducing me to his new wife.”
“Aw, honey.”
“Her name is Chelsea.”
“It figures.”
“She doesn’t look a day over twenty-five.”
“What a jerk. Want me to put a curse on him? I could make his member fall off. Just say the word.”
Beth almost smiled in spite of herself. “You don’t have to do that on my account.”
“Believe me, it would be no trouble.”
Moving on to a glass case that held the more expensive silver jewelry mined and designed with Jenna’s own hands, Beth said, “Did I mention that they’re expecting a baby in three months?”
“As a matter of fact, you didn’t. It must have slipped your mind.”
Beth rolled her eyes. Subtle, Jenna wasn’t.
“That Barry always was a fast worker, wasn’t he?” Jenna sputtered. “Didn’t even wait for the divorce to be final. Of course, this means my curse would be a little late. I could still do it, but now it would be more for enjoyment than actual revenge.”
After a momentary silence, Jenna said, “Did it hurt? Running into Barry, I mean. Is that why you’re so quiet tonight?”
Beth moved on to the next display. “It’s nothing I won’t get over, if that’s what you mean. It just hasn’t been a red-letter day, that’s all. I had an appointment with Mrs. Donahue at Social Services right after work. She told me she’d love to let me adopt Christopher, but those silly old courts prefer two-parent homes.”
“Geez, Beth, have you been breaking mirrors or walking underneath ladders or throwing black cats over your shoulder, or what?”
This time, Beth cracked a smile. “Actually, there’s something else.”
Other than the traffic outside on the city’s main thoroughfare, the room became utterly silent. Without turning to face her friend, she said, “I sort of asked one of the doctors at the hospital to marry me.”
Jenna broke the long stretch of silence with a loud whoop of glee. “Bethany, honey, I do believe you’re finally coming out of your shell.”
“It’s not funny, Jenna. And I am not.”
“Sure you are, and yes it is. But tell me, what did this doctor sort of say?”
Running her hand over the brightly colored skirts hanging on a rack in the corner, Beth said, “Actually, the only noise I heard was the thud of his jaw hitting the floor.”
Beth didn’t turn around. Not when Jenna made a sympathetic sound. Not even when the chimes over the door jingled with the arrival of a late customer.
“Uh, Beth?” Jenna asked.
“Hmm?”
“Did this doctor you mentioned look as if he could have just stepped off a steamboat from Italy?”
“You could say that, why?”
“Oh, it’s nothing, but unless doctors have gone back to making house calls, I believe your fiancé just walked through the door.”
Chapter Two
Her fiancé?
Was that what Jenna had said? That her fiancé had just walked through the door?
Beth stared at a shelf containing books of old Romany curses, wishing with all her might that she could make herself vanish into thin air. But there was no way out. She was in a corner, literally and figuratively. Sooner or later, she was going to have to turn around to see if Tony was really standing in this very store.
“Bethany?”
Her mind went blank for a moment, then scrambled like a radio picking up more than one signal. There was no doubt about it. That voice belonged to none other than Tony Petrocelli himself. She took a deep breath for courage, then turned around to face the music and the last man on earth she was prepared to see.
She glanced at Jenna, who was suddenly all eyes and ears, then slowly raised her gaze to Tony’s. Although she couldn’t quite manage a smile, she nodded in greeting and said, “Dr. Anthony Petrocelli, this is Jenna Maria Brigante, my best friend.”
Tony heard the regal formality in Beth’s voice, and wondered where she’d acquired her manners and her style. He didn’t doubt that she was strong; nurses had to be—in spirit and in body. But even the grouchiest nurses at Vanderbilt Memorial could flirt with the best of them. He enjoyed playing along, but he’d never had any trouble dismissing the overtures as fun, and nothing more. Beth Kent had intriguing looks and a willowy body that rivaled any nurse’s in the building. Yet he’d never seen her so much as wink at one of the doctors. She obviously didn’t believe in small talk or casual flirtations. Oh, no. She’d cut straight to the quick when she’d asked him to marry her, in so many words. And he simply hadn’t been able to dismiss that.
Tony cast a sideways glance at the dark-haired woman who was watching him openly. Jenna Maria Brigante, he thought to himself. Oh, boy. A woman with three names always spelled trouble. “Brigante,” he repeated. “Is that Italian?”
Her eyes danced with a peculiar light, her hair swishing as she shook her head. “Romanian Gypsy.”
He cocked his head slightly. “That would explain how you knew that I was a doctor.”
The woman stared at him, then burst out laughing. “Bethany,” she exclaimed, “I do believe your taste is improving.”
Jenna Maria Brigante obviously didn’t let a man’s size intimidate her. She raised her chin and stared him down, pointing one red-tipped finger directly at him. “Since you and Beth undoubtedly have a lot to talk about, I’m going to let her lock up here and I’ll leave you two alone. But I’m warning you. If you hurt her, you won’t like the repercussions.”
He looked her straight in the eye. With a significant lift of his brows, he said, “Believe me, any curse you put on me would be pale compared to what my Grandma Rosa would do to me.”
Obviously satisfied with his statement and with what she saw in his eyes, Jenna turned to leave. At the door, she said, “Call me later, Beth. I want details. Lots and lots of details.”
The moment she opened the door, the room came alive with the faint purl of a dozen different wind chimes. She cast one more long look over her shoulder without saying a word. With a rustle of skirts and the rattle of the door, she was gone, and he and Bethany were alone.
Glancing from Beth to the airy scarves draped over a pole covered with climbing ivy, he said, “Interesting place. Is your friend really a Gypsy?”
That won him her first smile of the evening, which in turn sent a shock of attraction chugging through his bloodstream all over again. This was crazy. The fact that he was here was crazy. He didn’t believe in Romany curses, and he couldn’t believe an honest-to-goodness nurse did, either. So it wasn’t a hex or a magical spell that drew him closer. It was intrigue, and quite possibly the strongest flare of desire he’d experienced in his entire life.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
Tony raked his fingers through his hair. “Let’s just say that Jenna Maria Brigante was less formidable than the super in your building.”
“So you’ve met Mr. Willoughby.”
“Oh, I’ve met him, all right. But I have to tell you that it was easier to convince a first-time mother that she could deliver a nine-pound baby than it was to convince Mr. Willoughby that I’m not Jack the Ripper.”
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face, for what, he didn’t know. He’d seen her in her nursing uniform at the hospital, and he’d imagined her wearing nothing at all in his fantasies, but this was the first time he’d seen her exactly like this. She was wearing jeans and a black tank top, her dark auburn hair waving past her shoulders. He didn’t know how she did it, how she managed to pull off looking sexy and regal at the same time. It was one helluva potent combination.
“What was it?” she asked.
Tony wasn’t surprised that he had no idea what she was talking about, not when most of the blood in his brain seemed to be making its way to a place straight south of there. “What was what?” he asked.
“The nine-pound baby you mentioned.”
“Oh. It was a girl. If she’s half as ambitious as her parents, she’ll either be a linebacker for the Broncos or the president of the United States.”
His attempt at humor didn’t have the effect he’d hoped for. Although Beth’s lips lifted into a smile, it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Why did you come here tonight, Doctor?”
There was a question. And the truth was, he wanted to give her an honest answer. He just wasn’t exactly sure what the answer would be. Taking his time meeting her eyes, he finally said, “I’ve received my share of propositions, but I have to say it’s been a long time since a woman has come right out and proposed marriage.”
Beth was vaguely aware of screechy brakes and smooth-running engines on the street outside, but most of her attention was turned inward at the sensation flickering to life in her chest. It could only be one thing—hope; tiny maybe, and precarious for sure, but it was hope just the same. Not trusting herself to move, she said, “Does this mean you might consider it?”
He stared back at her for a long time. She wished she had Jenna’s uncanny knack for reading people’s expressions, because for the life of her, she didn’t know what was going on behind Tony’s dark brown eyes. The way he raked his fingers through his hair could have been fatigue, it could have been unease or it could have been indecision. There wasn’t much Bethany wouldn’t have done for an inkling as to what she was dealing with. Unfortunately, all she could do was wait.
A dozen images and sensations crowded through Tony’s mind. The memory of the pouty expression on his patient’s face earlier today when he’d backed from the room, stupefied that the woman thought she could seduce him in his own office. The sound of Noah’s voice when he’d mentioned the promotion and the hospital board’s position on marriage. The disastrous blind date his younger sister had felt obliged to send him on last week, and his parents’ desire that he pass on the family name. As strange as it sounded, the heat that seemed to have taken up permanent residence in the very center of him was stronger than all those other things combined.
But marriage?
The thought brought him up short, another idea close on its heels. Beth Kent was pretty and hard-working, and had a kind of class and sophistication that couldn’t be learned. A woman like that could have her pick of men. All she would have to do was say the word and men would line up for her attention.
It suddenly occurred to him that she didn’t seem to want suitors. She wanted a husband. The question was why.
He strolled forward, looking at her intently. “I don’t honestly know what I’m considering, but I know I’d like to understand. Maybe you could start at the beginning.”
For a moment, Beth studied him, measuring, appraising the situation. She supposed he had a right to want to understand. The question was, what should she say? How much should she include? And exactly where was the beginning?
One thing she’d acquired the summer she and her family had spent in England was an appreciation for the tradition of sipping tea. And because brewing tea gave a person something to do with her hands, Beth decided this was the perfect time to prepare a pot.
Without preamble, she strode to the doorway in the back of the room. Lifting the beads aside, she glanced over her shoulder. “Won’t you come this way?”
Tony followed her to a tiny kitchenette. Since he doubted his legs would fit underneath the ornate, glass-topped table in one corner, he leaned against the counter, ankles crossed, one hand in his pocket, watching as Beth filled a kettle with water and removed two tea bags from an airtight jar.
“First of all,” she began tentatively, “I want you to know that I don’t make a habit of asking men to marry me. Now I know why.”
Tony settled back, strangely intrigued by her subtle wit and the way her lower lip was slightly fuller than the top.
“Anyway,” she continued, turning on the gas beneath the kettle, “I wouldn’t have asked you today, but I’m desperate.”
She had the grace to look apologetic at her choice of words. Tony only smiled.
“You see, I overheard Dr. Howell mention that the board of directors would prefer to give the promotion of head of obstetrics to a married man. Now, I’m not pretending that it’s fair, but since I was raised in a family that could have written the book on putting on airs, I understand all about maintaining the proper appearances. I had recently come from a meeting, myself, when I overheard your conversation with Dr. Howell, and I’d hoped that perhaps you and I could both gain something from a marriage of convenience, so to speak.”
Tony found himself standing up a little straighter, his gaze sharpening with every passing second. “What would you gain, Beth?”
She turned slowly and looked up at him. “A baby. A son.”
If Tony lived to be a hundred, he’d never forget the open look of longing in her eyes and her voice during that moment in time. “What do you mean?” he said, more slowly and gently than before.
“Do you remember Christopher Moore? The baby you delivered the night of the blackout? Something happened to me that night. I can’t explain it, but I took one look at him and I was lost. Maybe there was magic in the air, or maybe it was all just destiny. I don’t know. But I was sure you felt it, just as I was sure Annie Moore felt it, too. She was so brave for a girl so young. Do you remember? She asked me to take care of Christopher for her. At the time, I thought she meant for the moment, but now I wonder if she wanted me to adopt him even then. It’s what I want more than anything else in this world. But the social worker said that in order for that to happen, I must be able to provide him with a two-parent home.”
By now, Tony had straightened to his full height, his feet spread slightly, his stance ready. For what, he wasn’t sure. She continued, everything she said sounding very matter-of-fact, very tidy. It all made perfect sense, and he had to admit, he’d benefit from the arrangement, too.
What was he thinking?
The tea was brewed by the time she’d reached the end of her “sales pitch.” Tony could have used a shot of whiskey. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, but God help him, he was actually considering her proposition.
She’d mentioned that something had been in the air that night when Christopher had been born. While he didn’t doubt that a bond had formed between Beth, Annie Moore and the tiny baby he’d helped bring into this world, he remembered another kind of link, this one between him and Beth. It had been a purely sexual experience, although they hadn’t even touched. He’d been feeling strangely on edge ever since. As a doctor and a man, he knew of only one way to relieve his pent-up need.
Tony happened to believe that free sex was worth about as much as dandelion wine. It went down with about as much grace, and left the same bad feeling in the pit of a man’s stomach. Blah. Give him a bottle of hard whiskey and an honest chase, and he’d give back ten times as much as he asked for. Although he’d never actually admitted it out loud, one-night stands were boring. A man could get that much gratification by himself. That, however, wasn’t the kind of gratification he wanted or needed.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you think?”
Tony didn’t know what to think. Inching closer, he said, “Before I can answer that, there’s something else I have to know.”
She turned those violet eyes of hers to his, and damn, he couldn’t have formed a coherent thought if his life depended upon it. Letting his instincts guide him, he did the only thing he could do. In one fast move, he covered her mouth with his.
Her surprise whooshed out of her, but she didn’t pull away. His instinctive response to her was powerful, but nothing could compare to the sensations surging through him at the joining of their mouths. He deepened the kiss, fitting her closer to his body, moving his mouth over hers, his hands spreading wide across her back, inching up and down, kneading. Needing.
She opened her mouth beneath his, sending desire pounding through him even faster. He slanted his lips over hers, clinging, devouring her softness. The kiss went on for a long time, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted, needed, more.
Beth couldn’t think, and she certainly couldn’t step away. Tony had moved fast, but she still should have seen this coming. His hands warmed her through her tank top, his kiss heating her from the inside out. It had been a long time since she’d felt warm in exactly this way. She hated to admit how much she’d missed it.
The kiss finally broke on a need for oxygen, if nothing else. Beth took a shuddering breath and tried to get her thoughts under control. No wonder the rumors circulating through the hospital about Tony’s sexual prowess had always run rampant. According to one of the nurses who worked with him, ninety-nine percent of his patients fell a little in love with him in the delivery room. Dr. Petrocelli obviously had a very good bedside manner. Now she was beginning to believe the stories about his in-bed manner, as well. Thankful that he couldn’t read her mind, she turned her back on him and tried to keep a blush from climbing to her cheeks.
“We’ll tell our families tomorrow.”
Her head came up and around with a start. “What?”
“Our families. They’re going to have to be told.”
“You mean you’ll marry me?”
Tony had a feeling he would always refer to this as the day he lost his senses, but, with desire still thick inside him, it didn’t feel that way right now. Fighting an uncharacteristic urge to toss his head back and laugh, he decided to forget about potential problems and concentrate on this instinctive need he had to make Bethany Kent his.
Looking at her with smug delight, he said, “I can hardly believe it, but yes, that is what I mean.”
“When?” she asked.
“As soon as possible.”
The huskiness in his voice threw her for a moment. Recovering, she said, “Yes, I think it would be best if we were married before Christopher is released from the hospital.”
“For that reason, too.”
His dark eyes held a sheen of purpose she simply couldn’t ignore. Wishing she knew where to put her hands, she said, “All right, then. I guess that’s that.”
Tony made a sound only men could manage. “You won’t know the meaning of the term that’s that until after you’ve met my family tomorrow.”
Beth hadn’t considered meeting his family. Actually, other than Christopher, there were a lot of things she hadn’t considered. “Are they going to be terribly upset?” she asked.
The shake of his head was too slow and too sure to be anything but genuine. “Are you kidding? They’ve been trying to marry me off for years. Believe me, they’re going to be thrilled with you and with Christopher. What about your family? How will they take the news?”
Beth considered her family’s reactions one by one. Her mother’s eyes would widen, and her father would get a little stuffy, and her sister and brother-in-law would share a long, meaningful look, but none of them would actually say anything outright. They had far too much social breeding for any real show of emotion.
“Actually,” she said, “I think I’ll wait until after the fact to tell my family.”
Tony shook his head. “My grandmother would never forgive me if I didn’t let all of them in on the news. I’ll call them first and give them a little time to get used to the idea of not only a wedding but another grandchild, too. They’re going to want to meet you, of course. And they’ll insist upon feeding you. They always close the grocery store at five-thirty on Saturdays. I’ll pick you up at six.”
Beth felt as if she were caught up in a whirlwind. Placing a hand to her temple to try to still the dizziness, she said, “It seems as if we should shake on it or something.”
One second later his mouth was on hers all over again. She didn’t gasp, but she very nearly swooned.
Raising his head, he said, “There, that was better than any handshake. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Beth.”
The next thing she knew, he strode through the beads in the doorway on his way to the front door. Pulling her gaze from his retreating form wasn’t easy. Tony Petrocelli had a smooth gait and a strong masculine physique that was impossible to ignore. She half expected him to glance over his shoulder as if he knew it. The fact that he didn’t made her heart feel strangely tender.
Just who was Tony Petrocelli? He was no whipping boy, and he certainly wasn’t a shrinking violet. People at the hospital said he was a complex man, one who wasn’t easy to know intimately. Beth was beginning to realize that there was a lot more to him than rumors and tall tales.
She stood in the doorway, staring through the colorful beads for a long time after he left, feeling as if she were viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. Oh, what a difference a day could make. In the span of twelve hours she’d experienced nearly every emotion there was. Sadness, despair, embarrassment, desire and relief. Her head was spinning as a result.
Jenna would have said, “All’s well that ends well.”
Bethany supposed it was true enough. After all, according to Mrs. Donahue, she would be able to begin adoption proceedings as soon as she was married. She already loved Christopher as her own. Now she would be able to raise him as her own, as well. She smiled at the thought, her arms aching to hold the child that would soon be hers.
Soon. That was when Tony said he wanted to get married.
Good heavens, she was getting married, when she’d promised herself she’d never get married again. Touching the tips of her fingers to her lips, she only hoped she knew what she was doing.
* * *
Beth slid from the seat and rounded the front of Tony’s Lexus. Her feet stopped at the foot of the porch steps, her eyes trained on the welcome sign fastened above the front door.
“Ready?” Tony asked, reaching for her hand.
No. As a matter of fact, she wasn’t ready. Oh, the house looked inviting enough. It was located in what her mother referred to as the working-class district. These houses were old but well kept. They were far less ornate than the huge Victorian mansions that had been built by businessmen and prospectors who’d struck it rich in the silver mines a hundred years ago, and far less pretentious than the new structures built by present-day businessmen and the social elite. The houses in this neighborhood had painted porches and bare spots in the lawns where children played and dogs snoozed in the shade. The exterior didn’t concern Beth in the least. It was the people waiting for her inside that had her nerves standing on edge.
During the ride from her apartment, Tony had hit most of the high spots concerning his family. She now knew that his Grandpa Mario had died ten years ago, and that the Petrocellis were the kind of people who still referred to wall-to-wall carpeting as a rug, and who ate dinner at noon, and supper as soon as they closed the Italian grocery store that had been in the family for more than forty years. Other than a love for gossip, they sounded like kind, good-hearted men and women. So why were her feet frozen to the sidewalk?
“Come on,” Tony said softly. “You’re going to be fine.”
She took a deep breath and went up to the first step. Mentally preparing herself for what was to come, she stared straight ahead. “All right. Let’s go in. I only hope I don’t drop my spaghetti in my lap.”
Tony was still laughing when he opened the front door and ushered her inside. Every person in the room turned to look at them, more than a dozen pairs of brown eyes narrowing with a critical squint. Accepting the squeeze Tony gave her hand for moral support, Beth did her best to hold her head high and refrain from fidgeting. But honestly, a germ under a microscope had never received a more intense scrutiny.
“Everyone,” Tony began, “I’d like you to meet Bethany Kent. My future bride.”
Only one person in the entire room moved. A small woman with white hair leaned heavily on her cane as she ambled closer.
“This is my Grandma Rosa,” Tony said quietly.
Rosa Petrocelli was eighty-five years old if she was a day, and obviously accepted her position as head of the family as her just due. Her gaze started at Beth’s feet and trailed upward, ending at her face. She finished her perusal, pausing for a moment for effect. When she was good and ready, she said, “You’re very thin.”
Beth looked past the thinning white hair and the wrinkles lining a face that had lived through a lot of years, and into the other woman’s sharply assessing eyes. “Maybe. But not too thin.”
Rosa Petrocelli’s eyebrows went up. Tapping her cane on the floor to still the gasps behind her, she said, “You also have a strong will, yes? This is good. You’re goin’ta need it to hold your own with our Antonio.”
A chuckle started in one corner of the room, circled around and back again, picking up volume along the way. Rosa muttered a prayer in Italian, and in no time at all, chaos and confusion erupted. Beth was introduced to Tony’s parents and his sisters, and so many other family members she had a difficult time keeping everyone straight. She thought she tallied up eleven children, but she might have counted one adorable little boy who looked to be about four years old twice.
She managed to make it through dinner, or supper, as the Petrocellis called it, without spilling her spaghetti in her lap, although it was surprising that she could eat at all considering all the questions she answered. She glanced up several times and found Tony watching her, and at least one of his sisters nodding in approval.
The dishes were whisked away to the kitchen, Beth’s offer to help with the cleanup quickly denied. The Petrocelli women were very formidable, giving their men strict orders to watch the children and keep Beth duly entertained. It didn’t take long for Tony’s father and brothers-in-law to draw him into a discussion about baseball, oblivious to their children’s noisy play and the woman they’d been instructed to amuse. Seizing a moment of solitude, Beth strolled through an arched doorway and into another room.
The room was small and appeared to be used as some sort of den. An overstuffed sofa took up one wall, and a cozy armchair was placed at a comfortable angle nearby with doily-topped end tables on either side. There was an old television in one corner, and everywhere, on every available surface, sat framed photographs in all shapes and sizes. Beth studied them, intrigued.
There was a black-and-white snapshot of a man in uniform, another of a solemn-faced wedding couple, and color photos of everything from first communions to weddings to smiling babies. Tony’s sisters looked so much alike it was difficult to tell who was who. But Tony was easy to spot. She’d noticed the way his mother, grandmother and four sisters all doted on him, making it obvious that he was the family favorite—because he was the only boy, or because he kept himself slightly aloof, she couldn’t be sure.
“Are you hiding or wandering?”
Beth spun around, flushing guiltily. Tony was leaning in the doorway, one hand in his pocket, a lazy light in his eyes. Wondering what had happened to her air of calm and self-confidence, she said, “A little of both, I suppose.”
He pushed himself from the doorway and ambled farther into the room. “They can be overwhelming at times. Believe me, I know.”
Beth found herself smiling. Although she had wandered into this room to catch her breath and grab a moment of solitude, she certainly couldn’t fault the Petrocellis for the way they’d welcomed her tonight. Shrugging, she said, “Your family is wonderful. I’m just not used to all the touching and embracing and, well, all the noise.”
Tony stopped a few feet away, his gaze trailing over photographs he’d seen a thousand times. “You learn to tune it out. Your family isn’t noisy?”
“Hardly. I only have one sister. We’re very different.”
Something about her tone of voice drew his gaze. “Different, how?” he asked.
She shrugged one shoulder. “Janet is beautiful, poised and gracious. She’s two years older than I am, and she has always made all the right choices. She married a handsome, intelligent man and has three beautiful, intelligent children.”
Tony thought they all sounded extremely politically correct, and wondered why it irked him. Before he was able to come up with an answer, Beth began clicking off names on her fingers. “Let me see if I’ve gotten your family straight. Your father’s name is Vince, your mother is Elena. Carmelina is married to Nick Santini. Gina’s husband’s name is Teddy Bulgarelli. There’s Andreanna and Rocky Grazanti, and Maria and…what’s Maria’s husband’s name again?”
“Frank Giovanni.” His answer had been automatic. Why wouldn’t it be? He’d known Frankie all his life.
With a rustle of silk that kicked his heartbeat into overdrive, she bent down to study another photograph. “Is there anyone in your family who hasn’t married a fellow Italian, Tony?”
He caught a whiff of decadently expensive French perfume, and suddenly, he didn’t want to talk about his family. He waited for his silence to draw her attention, letting his gaze travel over her soft, elegant blouse and long, straight skirt.
“There’s me,” he whispered.
Beth straightened slowly. Had she moved closer, or had he? In the tight space so near him, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say or do. Tony seemed to have no such problem. His breath felt warm on her cheek. A moment later, his lips touched hers. This was the first time he’d kissed her today. She suspected he’d been on his best behavior, but there was no disguising the passion running through him right now.
There was a ruckus in the next room, but it was Elena Petrocelli’s voice coming from the doorway that drew Tony and Beth apart. Calling for attention with a loud clap of her hands, she said, “It’s nice to see that my son takes after his father, but there will be plenty of time for that later. Now, come. Quickly. We have wedding plans to make.”
Beth and Tony ended up in the next room, surrounded by Petrocellis who were all talking at once.
“Bethany,” Elena said, “will your mother be helping you with the wedding plans?”
Beth barely had time to shake her head before Tony’s mother rushed on. “Uh! No problem. I’ve planned four weddings already, and would love to help with yours and my Anthony’s. I know the two of you will be busy with adoption proceedings—I can hardly wait to meet my new grandson. You just leave the wedding plans to me.”
“We’ll have to see about a hall.”
“And food, Mama. We’ll need plenty of food.”
“Tony, were you thinking of an autumn wedding? Or winter?”
Beth cast a look at all the people who were talking and gesturing a mile a minute, then slowly turned her gaze to Tony’s. He leaned closer and said, “I told you they were overwhelming.”
She smiled. She hardly knew this man, yet she had an unsinkable feeling that everything was going to be all right. Tony obviously had strong family ties, and would undoubtedly be a good father to Christopher. Although arranged marriages weren’t common in this day and age, they’d certainly been effective in other eras. She’d married Barry for love. And look how that had turned out. Perhaps a marriage based on mutual respect and the love of an innocent child would fare better.
Tony raised his voice above all the noise. “Sorry to disappoint all of you, but Beth and I aren’t going to have time for a big wedding. We’re going to be married as soon as possible.”
“As soon as possible!” Rosa exclaimed.
“That won’t give Aunt Pasqualina much time to make her famous wedding cake,” Elena sputtered.
“The nice thing about Aunt Pasqualina’s cakes,” one brother-in-law, Beth thought it was Frank, said, “is that you don’t actually eat them.”
“That’s right,” Nick Santini agreed. “We’re still using the cake from our wedding to prop open the back door.”
After giving her husband a sharp jab in the ribs, Carmelina asked, “What do you mean by as soon as possible?”
Tony glanced at Beth. “A week at the latest.”
A gasp went through the room. “A week!” Elena said. “But, Anthony, we’ve been waiting all our lives to hear you say ‘I do’ in a proper wedding ceremony.”
Beth didn’t like the guilt that flooded her. Trying to soften the family’s disappointment, she said, “In order to adopt Christopher, we must be married as soon as possible.”
Mention of the baby changed everything. The Petrocellis took turns nodding and shaking their heads. “A week!” Rosa said. “That don’a leave us much time.”
“That’s all right, Grandma,” Tony said. “We’re planning to be married by a judge.”
A little girl whined over a bumped knee, and a baby started to cry. The adults took the news even worse. Mouths dropped open, then snapped shut, and chaos erupted all over again. Grandma Rosa muttered in Italian, and Vince and Elena sputtered between themselves. Turning suddenly, Elena said, “Anthony, this is a wedding, not a traffic violation. If you must be married within a week, so be it, but at least do it in front of God and Father Carlos.”
“But, Mama,” Gina insisted, “Father Carlos insists upon a six-month waiting period.”
Elena, whose black hair was streaked with gray, turned to Tony and Beth. Raising her chin at a haughty angle, she said, “You two see to the baby, the license and the blood tests, and leave Father Carlos to me.”
Tony and Beth exchanged a look, then slowly nodded. It seemed there wasn’t much more to say. Tony made noises about leaving soon after. Pulling Beth along behind him, he shouldered a path to the door.
“Antonio, wait!”
The crowd parted to make room for Tony’s grandmother to pass. Rosa peered up at her grandson for a long time, then moved on to the woman at his side. Age might have shrunk her frame, but it hadn’t dulled her intelligence or softened her temperament. A flicker of apprehension shot through Bethany. She knows, she thought to herself. Tony’s grandmother knows that this marriage is all because of Christopher. Only because of Christopher.
“Is there something you wanted to say, Grandma?” Tony asked.
When Rosa nodded, Beth tried to prepare for what was to come.
“I just want to welcome you into our family, Bethany. I’ve seen the way you watched all the little ones here tonight, and I believe you’re goin’ta be a fine mother to the child you and my Antonio plan to adopt, and a fine mother to the babies you’ll birth yourself, too. Even if you are a little thin by Italian standards.”
A lump rose to Beth’s throat, making speech impossible. Carmelina flashed her a wink that spoke volumes and a smile that said even more. “Don’t mind Grandma Rosa. She’s always trying to fatten us up. Honestly, my Nicholas was a thin man when I married him.”
“What do you mean, ‘was’?” Nicholas protested.
Ignoring her brother-in-law, Maria said, “That’s right. When Grandma Rosa tells us we’re just right, we always know it’s time to go on a diet.”
“Yes,” Andreanna quipped. “She and Mama are firm believers in feeding a cold and a fever. Besides, you’ll probably put on a little baby fat when you’re pregnant.”
“All these women think about is making babies,” one of the brothers-in-law admonished.
He dodged the jab from his wife and laughed along with the other men. Tony and Beth left seconds later amid a chorus of “goodbyes.”
Beth only wished it was easier to smile.
Chapter Three
“Is everything all right, Beth?”
She glanced at Tony, relieved to see that he was too busy watching for his family’s arrival to take his eyes from the end of the corridor. It was the third time he’d asked that question in as many days, and the third time she didn’t know what to say. The first time, he’d voiced his concern before pulling out of his parents’ driveway three nights ago. She hadn’t been able to explain the niggling doubt hovering in the back of her mind then, and she couldn’t explain it now. What she needed was a few hours alone to get her thoughts in order, but with the wedding a mere four days away, she hadn’t had two minutes to think, much less a few hours.
The hospital was abuzz with the news of the great Dr. Petrocelli’s imminent fall from bachelorhood. He and Beth had taken their blood tests, applied for the marriage license and spoken with Elena every day. Beth wasn’t sure how the other woman had managed it, but the wedding was set for this coming Saturday at two o’clock.
Although everything else they’d done had been necessary, as far as Beth was concerned, the most important order of business was the appointment they’d kept with the social worker yesterday. Florence Donahue, the caseworker who’d been assigned to Christopher, was fifty-five years old, and since she’d turned forty she had accumulated an extra pound with every passing year. She wore the pinched expression of a woman who was squeezed between the desire to help and the bureaucracy of an imperfect system. If Tony had noticed, he hadn’t let on, charming her right down to the roots of her overpermed brown hair. Beth still smiled every time she thought about the phone call she’d received a few hours ago. According to Mrs. Donahue, the proper forms had been filled out, and barring any new developments, the system was going to place Christopher in Beth and Tony’s care upon his release from the hospital.
The Petrocellis, too eager to wait until then to meet the newest addition to their family, were due to arrive at the hospital, where they could at least see him through the nursery window. Tony was pacing back and forth, as nervous as any expectant father she’d ever seen. He would be wonderful to Christopher, she knew he would, and Christopher would have the added stability and love of a huge extended family.
Telling herself that the misgivings that had been scraping the edges of her mind these past three days were just nerves, she leaned over the baby’s incubator. “Hello, sweet pea. Remember when I told you how much I want to be your mommy? Lo and behold, it looks as if I’m going to get my wish. Do you remember that man over there? He helped bring you into this world, and he’s going to be your daddy.”
Tony stopped pacing and slowly turned around. He took his time looking at Beth, his eyes traveling over every inch of her. She was leaning over the plastic crib, seemingly oblivious to everything except the baby. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, one side fastened high on her head with a black clasp. She was wearing a thin, airy-looking skirt and matching top. Although the color was an understated slate blue, the material clung to her hips and legs in the most enticing way. She probably had no idea how sensuous her voice sounded. No wonder the baby was gazing up at her, mesmerized. She was having a similar effect on him. Tony didn’t know what was happening to him. He only knew he liked it.
“Beth?” he said, catching a movement out of the corner of his eye.
“Hmm?”
“They’re here.”
She came to with a start, her eyes going wide as she looked beyond him at the men and women and children hurrying toward them en masse. With a tilt of her head and the lift of one shoulder, she said, “Yes, they certainly are. Would you like to carry Christopher to the window so they can see him?”
“No,” he said, ignoring the taps on the pane behind him. “I think you should do the honors. You’re a natural with him.”
The smile she gave him nearly buckled his knees, rendering him immobile. That night, more than two-and-a-half months ago, like now, he’d felt it—warmed by her smile, flushed with heat, excited by something as simple as a look.
Beth wrapped Christopher in a white blanket and scooped him into her arms, Tony’s words playing through her mind. You’re a natural with him. She swallowed the lump in her throat, certain she’d never received a higher compliment.
She stood next to Tony in front of the window and held up the baby for all to see. Christopher, with his dark tuft of hair and serious gray eyes, stared unblinking at all the people who were making complete fools of themselves on the other side of the window.
Children were held up for a better look, chubby little fingers pointing, questions asked and answered with ease. Tony’s mother and sisters all wiped tears from their eyes, his father and brothers-in-law grinning and nodding for all they were worth. When everyone had looked their fill, Beth returned Christopher to his bed, and together, she and Tony joined the rest of the family in the hall.
“I can’t believe how much hair he has.”
“He’s an angel.”
“He’s beautiful.”
“He’s a boy. He can’t be beautiful.”
“He can so. And he is.”
“And smart. He knows us already.”
“Oh, but he’s so small. I swear our Dominic was twice that size at birth!”
“Yes, but Dominic was born half grown.”
Tony almost smiled. Although he’d delivered hundreds of babies, they were usually red-faced and squalling and mad as blazes to find themselves beneath the glare of lights in the big, cold world. Staring at Christopher, who was silently studying a stuffed bear Beth had placed in his bed in the first days of his life, a sense of pride came out of nowhere, and he had to admit that the baby was an exceptionally handsome child.
“I can see the pride in the set of your shoulders, son.”
Tony’s eyes took their time meeting his father’s. When their gazes locked, they both nodded. Tony was the first to smile.
Vincent Petrocelli was a couple of inches shorter than Tony and had thinning gray hair and a face and hands that bore the lines and calluses of a man who worked hard for a living. He didn’t speak loud or often, but when he talked, people sat up and listened. They’d been the only two men adrift in a turbulent sea of talkative, demonstrative women. Despite it or because of it, their relationship was based on companionable silences. Tony could count on one hand the times he and his father had had heart-to-heart talks. He’d always known what his family had given up to help him through medical school, just as he’d always known what was expected of him in return.
He wasn’t sure why he chose that instant to turn his head slightly, but once his gaze settled on Beth, he couldn’t look away. At five foot eight, she was at least three inches taller than the women in his family. From here, her hair looked more red-gold than auburn, her skin pale, her lips tinted a soft pink. She was talking to two of his sisters—listening was more like it. She nodded politely at something Carmelina said, then casually glanced his way. For a moment, she seemed to stare, unseeing, past them all. Slowly, her eyes focused on him, and she smiled. Desire roused inside Tony all over again.
From a dozen feet away, Beth saw the invitation in the depths of Tony’s eyes. She couldn’t remember any man ever looking at her in exactly that way, and she could hardly believe what such a look could do to a woman.
See? she told herself. Everything is going to be fine. There’s no need for self-doubts.
“I think it’s a good thing the wedding is only four days away, don’t you, Maria?” Carmelina asked.
“From the look of that brother of ours, I don’t think he’d be able to wait much longer,” Maria agreed.
Beth glanced at Tony’s sisters, one older than him, the other younger. Heaven help her, but she was at a complete and utter loss for something to say.
Maria laughed, and Carmelina said, “Don’t look so stricken. I always knew he had it in him. Our mother and father have been waiting a long time for this. Tell me, Beth, how long do you and Tony plan to wait to have another child?”
Unease crawled down Beth’s spine, a disturbing thought close on its heels. Suddenly, she was face-to-face with the doubts she’d been having these past three days.
She didn’t remember how she responded to Carmelina’s question, but whatever she said must have satisfied both of Tony’s sisters. The entire family left soon after. If they noticed that Beth’s smile looked strangely out of place on her own face, they didn’t comment.
* * *
Tony stood to one side, arms crossed, waiting for Beth to unlock her door. She knew she’d been more quiet than usual since leaving the hospital, but she just hadn’t felt up to making small talk.
The door opened on silent hinges, the carpet muting her footsteps as she led the way into her quiet apartment. Other than the rasp of Tony’s deeply drawn breath, the only sound she heard was the door closing behind her. Choosing her words very carefully, she turned to face him. “Your family seems very excited about the idea of future Petrocellis.”
He studied her thoughtfully for so long she wondered if he was going to answer. “They’re very old-fashioned in that respect. Does that bother you?”
Bother? It terrified her, but not for the obvious reasons. Hoping against hope that she was reading more into this than was necessary, she took a deep breath to calm her nerves. What she really needed was something to do with her hands. Clasping them in front of her, she said, “Everything has happened so fast, we really haven’t had much of a chance to get to know each other. Do you have time to talk? Because if you do, I could brew a pot of tea.”
Tony took a step toward her. Brewing tea was not what he would have preferred to spend the next several minutes doing. Or even the next several hours. “I have all the time in the world, Beth. For talking. Or whatever.”
Either she didn’t hear the double entendre in his voice, or she chose to ignore it. Extending her hand in a sweeping gesture toward the living room, she said, “Would you like to wait in here?”
Tony Petrocelli enjoyed a lot of things but cooling his heels in the living room wasn’t one of them. Instead, he followed Beth into the next room. While she filled a copper teakettle with tap water, he leaned against the counter in her small kitchen, quietly watching.
“Did Carmelina say something to upset you, Beth?”
The mugs in her hands clanked together as she swung around to face him. Turning back much more slowly, she shook her head.
“Then, what was it you wanted to talk about?” He was vaguely aware that she’d pulled her lower lip between her teeth, but before he could make more than a sweeping assumption that she was nervous about something, he caught a whiff of her perfume, and all but the haziest of impressions were lost on him.
“If you could have anything,” she said quietly, “anything you wished for, what would it be?”
Staring at the smooth skin below her cheekbone and the fine line of her profile, he drew a blank.
She turned her head to look at him. “Don’t tell me you have everything you want, Tony. There must be something you’d like. And I don’t mean peace on earth and no more hungry children. I mean what do you want for yourself and nobody else.”
In that instant, he only wanted one thing. Her. In bed, under him, all over him. He wanted her. Since he doubted that was what she’d meant, he said, “I’ll have to think about it and let you know. What about you, Beth? What do you want?”
Her answer was as direct as her gaze. “That’s easy. I want Christopher.”
He turned slightly, the movement bringing his chest within a few inches of her shoulder. “Then, you’re going to get your wish. Christopher will be leaving the hospital in a week or two. And he’ll be coming home with us. Isn’t there anything else you want?”
She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide open and brimming with tenderness and emotion. The Sicilians had a word for what was happening to him. Translated, it meant thunderstruck. Only a person who’d felt it would truly understand the enormity of the sensation.
The teakettle whistled, startling them both and saving her from having to answer. She turned off the burner with one hand, reaching for the kettle with the other. Pouring the steaming water into a small, round teapot, she cleared her throat and finally said, “Your family seemed very taken with Christopher.”
She’d said something similar before, but he answered her, anyway. “They love kids. Always have.”
“I’ve heard more than one of them comment on their excitement over the prospect of meeting future Petrocellis.”
Without a clue as to where the conversation was headed, he crossed his ankles and settled himself more comfortably along the edge of the counter. “I come from what very well could be the last completely functional family in the United States. Oh, we had our normal fights and tussles growing up—Gina had a screech that could make your ears ring for two days, and Andreanna could pinch hard enough to draw blood—I tell everybody that I became a doctor out of self-defense. But when push comes to shove, we’re always here for one another. We’re working-class people, and we’re proud of it. My sisters gave up a lot to help me through medical school, but no one gave up more than my mother and father. All they’ve ever wanted or expected in return is that I carry on the family name.”
Beth watched the tea seep into the clear, steaming water, her tension seeping out of her in a similar fashion. There, she told herself. See? There’s nothing to worry about. By adopting Christopher, Tony will be doing as his family wishes. In his new son, the Petrocelli name will continue.
His shirt rustled as he uncrossed his arms, his voice dropping in volume as he said, “Oh, and of course they want me to pass on the family genes.”
She felt as if a hand were closing around her throat, cutting off her oxygen. They both jumped again when his phone rang, but Beth was secretly thankful for the momentary reprieve. While he went to answer, she tried to draw a deep breath.
“I have to go,” he said, a few minutes later.
“Another mother in labor?” she asked.
He started to nod, then seemed to change his mind, drawing his eyebrows down, instead. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
She nodded, but she wasn’t sure about anything, except that all the pleasure of the past few days had drained out of her.
* * *
Beth had thought her shift would never end, but it was over now, and she was on her way to the nursery. She could hear the babies crying all the way down the hall. She’d certainly spent enough time in the nursery these past two-and-a-half months to know exactly how it happened. It only took one baby’s tiny wail to set off another, and another, until there was a chorus of healthy cries and flailing fists, and one or two frantic nurses trying to calm them all.
Glancing in the window on her way by, she smiled in spite of herself. There was just something in a newborn’s cry that warmed her heart every time she heard it. She strode to the next window, her smile growing. Of the three preemies in the special nursery, two had taken up the call. Christopher was one of them.
Donning a gown, she scrubbed her hands and went to pick up the child she loved more than she thought possible. Christopher was angry, his face red, his movements jerky and stiff. Scooping him into her arms, she crooned into his ear, “There, there, what’s all the fuss about?”
A quick glance at his chart told her that he’d already been fed. That meant he either had to burp, or he just wanted to be held. She patted his back, crooning unintelligible words of comfort, her lips nuzzling his tiny head, his cheek, his adorable little ear. His cries lost their vehemence, gradually trailing away completely on a shuddering breath. Snuggling closer, he curled into her warmth.
Ah, yes, this was what he needed. It was what she needed, too.
She’d meandered from one end of her apartment to the other last night after Tony had left, thinking, praying, wishing. Her home wasn’t fancy, but it was all she needed. Although Barry had done his best to take the biggest share of their assets, she’d hired an attorney who’d made sure she held on to those that were rightfully hers. After the lawyer had taken his cut, she’d invested her winnings. As a nurse, she earned enough money to live on, and had planned to use her savings to put Christopher through college. Of course, Tony would probably insist upon helping choose the right school.
If he married her, that is.
“Of course he’ll marry me,” she whispered in Christopher’s ear. “He’s already committed to as much.”
But he doesn’t know, a voice whispered inside her head. You have to tell him.
No!
Covering Christopher’s back with the flat of her hand, she lifted her face and closed her eyes. Please. I love Christopher. Let me have him. I’ll do anything. Please.
Please.
The cry of babies was her only answer.
She continued to walk with Christopher, occasionally laying a hand on another infant who seemed to need nothing more than a human touch. Christopher didn’t seem to mind sharing her. It was as if he knew she loved him more than anybody else.
It felt right that he was secure in her love. It was one of the reasons she’d come here every day since the night he was born. There had been times when she’d been sure that her will alone had kept him alive. Oh, she loved him so. In her heart he was hers already. Was it so wrong to want him to be hers in the eyes of the law?
She deserved to be his mother.
Didn’t she?
Beth closed her eyes for a minute, because she knew better than anybody that life wasn’t always fair. Happiness had nothing to do with justice, or merit, or divine rights. Everything came down to doing one’s best. And the best thing she could do, the only thing she could do, was tell Tony the truth.
* * *
Beth had been pacing back and forth in Tony’s small office for five minutes, rehearsing what she was going to say word-for-word. The instant she heard the door open, she stopped, her eyes trained on his framed medical license on the wall.
“Connie said you wanted to see me?”
With her heart in her throat, she turned around. Tony closed the door behind him, slowly running his hand down the length of his silk tie, waiting for her to tell him why she’d come.
Her eyes had been burning from lack of sleep all day, her conscience burning with the need to tell the truth. Suddenly, she didn’t know where to begin. Clasping her hands behind her back, she raised her chin and quietly said, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
He took a step closer and held up one hand. “If you’re about to tell me that you used to be a man, you can stop right there, because I’d never believe you. My instincts couldn’t be that far off.”
His attempt at humor sent a small smile to her lips and a tiny ray of hope to her heart. He really was a good man. Perhaps what she had to say to him wouldn’t alter his decision to marry her.
“You’re right about that,” she said quietly. “But there are other things you don’t know about me.”
He walked farther into the room, casually settling his hands on his hips. “I’m listening.”
She thought she detected a flicker of longing in his dark eyes. It added to the tiny ray of hope that had started to glow inside her. “Do you remember when you asked me what I’d wish for if I could have anything in the world?”
He nodded. “You told me you want Christopher.”
“Yes. But five years ago, one year ago, even six months ago, I would have said I wanted to have a child of my own.”
She paused, studying him. His expression changed, becoming serious. Taking a deep breath for courage, she surged on. “Acceptance came slowly, Tony. One day at a time over the past seven years, to be exact.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m not saying anything very well, but what I’m trying to tell you is that I can’t have children.”
Tony took a step back, his head coming up with the shock of discovery. Beth released the breath she’d been holding, her last ray of hope extinguished by the surprise, and then the realization, that crossed his face. As one moment stretched to ten, she lowered her gaze to the grip she had on the back of his leather office chair. She’d recognized the expression deep in Tony’s eyes. Her ex-husband, Barry, had worn the same look more than a year ago when the doctor had given them the results of all the tests, all the surgeries and attempts that had failed.
“Are you sure?”
Pulling her gaze from her white knuckles, she said, “I’m sure. I have a severe case of endometriosis. Believe me, I’ve tried everything, every way there is.”
A knock sounded on the door, breaking the silence that stretched tight between them. “What is it?” Tony said, his voice a low growl.
The receptionist poked her head into the office. Obviously aware of the tension in the room, her gaze swung from Tony to Beth and back again. “I’m sorry to bother you, Dr. Petrocelli, but there’s an urgent message for Bethany.” She turned her attention to Beth before continuing. “You’re to go to the employee lounge immediately.”
Slowly coming to her senses, Beth nodded, although the message didn’t make sense. Her nursing shift was over. Why would she be needed in the lounge? “Thanks, Connie,” she said. “Tell them I’ll be right there.”
Casting one last glance at the clear-cut lines of Tony’s profile, she said, “Let’s talk later!” Taking careful note of his slight nod, she followed the other woman from the room.
* * *
If Beth Kent had been thinking clearly, she would have known something was wrong. The corridor was unusually quiet, the door leading to the employee lounge closed tight, the blinds drawn. Feeling strangely disoriented, she turned the knob.
The sudden roar was deafening, the burst of lights blinding. Nearly everyone she worked with on a daily basis was huddled together in the small room, laughing expectantly.
“Surprise!”
“We gotcha!”
“You didn’t think we’d let you get married without throwing you a surprise shower, did you?” Kitty Garcia, the nurse who worked in the nursery, exclaimed in a thick Spanish accent and friendly brown eyes.
“She’s surprised, all right,” someone else declared. “Just look at her.”
Beth did her best to smile. They were right. Her surprise was completely genuine. If they knew the half of it, the joke would be on them.
Karen Sloane, one of the most loved resident doctors at Vanderbilt Memorial, looped her arm through Beth’s and said, “We didn’t know whether to throw you a baby shower or a wedding shower. Then we remembered who you were going to marry, and we knew exactly what kind of shower we had to have for you.”
Beth didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t even sure the wedding was still on now that Tony knew about her infertility. She bit her lip, shuddering inwardly at the thought.
“Come on, Beth,” Karen insisted with an understanding smile. “These people aren’t going to give up until you’ve opened every last gift.”
Beth had known Karen Sloane for years. They were alike in many ways, so alike, in fact, that they both tended to keep their problems to themselves. When Karen’s eight-year-old daughter had been trapped in a cave during the mud slide, the two women had found strength in their similarities. A friendship had formed in the days following the massive storm that rocked Grand Springs to its core, and although Victoria had been found, unharmed, there were still shadows in Karen’s gray eyes.
Kitty Garcia grasped both women’s hands and drew them into the center of the room. Winking mischievously at Beth, she said, “I can’t wait to see your face when you open the gift from me. You will be happy. Sí?”
Beth didn’t fully understand the reason for all the elbow jabbing and jovial laughter, but she said a silent prayer of thanks for the poise she’d learned as a child. Accepting the plate of food being pushed into one hand and the gift being pressed into the other, she pasted a smile on her face and pretended that everything was right with the world.
* * *
Tony’s chair creaked as he leaned back in it and tried to relax, but it was nothing compared to the sound it made when he jumped to his feet a second later. At this rate, he was going to wear the blasted thing out, which was exactly what he would do to the new carpet if he didn’t stop pacing.
His last patient of the day had canceled. It was a good thing. His concentration had been nil ever since Beth had told him that she couldn’t have children.
Good God. Beth couldn’t have children.
He still couldn’t believe it. But at least a few things about Bethany Kent were beginning to make sense. He remembered thinking it was strange when she’d brought up the subject of marriage. Strange, hell. It had left him speechless.
Face it, Petrocelli. The woman has been leaving you speechless since the night of the blackout.
That was true enough, but those other bouts of raw surprise had been sexual in nature. In comparison, her disclosure concerning her inability to have children had felt like a kick in the chest.
Tony strode to the window, but for once in his life, the view of the mountains rising in the west failed to reach him. A dozen images of Beth played through his mind. He could practically see the lone tear that had trailed down her cheek that night when Christopher had been born. He could practically hear the depth of emotion in her voice each time she mentioned the baby’s name. She loved that child. There was no doubt about it. She deserved to have him, too. There was no doubt about that, either. But she couldn’t have children. And if he married her, he couldn’t, either.
He paced to the other side of the room. Running a hand through his hair, he turned and repeated the process.
Beth didn’t have to tell him about her infertility. That fact had left him in awe of her strength of character. But dammit, it also filled him with doubts and questions. All jokes about his Don Juan image aside, he took his commitment to his family very seriously. He’d always assumed he’d meet the right woman and settle down to raise a family like each and every one of his sisters had done. It was the Petrocelli way. How could he even consider marrying a woman who couldn’t give him children, or his parents grandchildren?
He didn’t know why he left his office, and he sure as hell didn’t know what he hoped to gain from standing outside the nursery, watching Christopher sleep. The baby’s hand jerked, then slowly relaxed, his little mouth suckling an invisible bottle. Tony knew it was a reflex action. But then, so was the clenching in his own gut.
Laughter and raised voices carried to his ears from someplace down the hall. Of their own volition, his feet followed the sound. He came to a stop a few feet from the employee lounge. Holding very still, he stood in the doorway, silently watching. Balloons bobbed from a centerpiece on one of the tables, voices rose and laughter trailed from one side of the room to the other. Beth stood in the midst of it all, looking regal and poised. He wondered if he was the only one who saw the stiffness in her shoulders or the forced brightness in her smile.
“Open mine next,” Kitty Garcia insisted, thrusting a brightly colored package into Beth’s hands.
There was a lot of speculation as Beth slid her finger beneath a piece of tape and lifted the paper away. “Hold it up!” someone yelled. “This I’ve gotta see.”
Using both hands, Beth pulled a see-through scrap of lace and red satin from the box. A blush tinged her cheeks, but she played along, holding the skimpy teddy to her body, smoothing her hand down its length. She chose that moment to look his way, her gaze meeting his from the other side of the room. Karen Sloane nudged her, and a heartbeat later, the other woman waved. Beth’s lips lifted in a semblance of a smile, and Tony felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him all over again. He returned Karen’s wave and did his best to return Beth’s smile, but it wasn’t easy. Hell, breathing wasn’t easy.
“Come on in, Tony,” somebody yelled.
Others took up the cry, but Tony only stood there, holding Beth’s gaze. She lowered her hands, the teddy dangling from two fingers. Something intense flared through him. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew he’d never felt anything quite like it in his life. This wasn’t just a simple case of him wanting a woman. There was nothing simple about it.
“Come on, Doctor! Have a piece of cake.”
Tony hesitated, casting a cursory glance at the people in the room. He knew that if he took that next step, there would be no turning back. Glancing back at Beth, a jolt went through him, a thought close on its heels. Tony Petrocelli had been raised to trust two things: his Grandma Rosa’s homemade pasta sauce, and his gut instinct. And his gut instinct told him he wanted Bethany Kent.
That want was complicated, not to mention confusing. But he’d been confused before, and truth be told, he liked complications, at least the kind that left him feeling strong and masculine and more alive than he’d felt in a long, long time.
With his eyes trained on Beth, he walked into the room.
Chapter Four
“Goodbye, Beth, see you tomorrow!”
“Yeah, bye, Bethany. Bye, Dr. Petrocelli!”
“Goodbye! Thanks for everything,” Beth called from the doorway, waving as the last two guests left the party. Suddenly, the employee lounge seemed awfully quiet.
“Would you close the door?” Tony asked from a few feet behind her.
Although she would have preferred to postpone their conversation, she closed the door and slowly turned around. She hadn’t known what to make of the sight of him standing in the doorway half an hour ago, and she certainly didn’t know what to make of the sight of him standing an arm’s length away right now, but fear and hope were fighting over the butterflies in her stomach. And fear was winning.
Tony was wearing his ordinary doctor attire—dress slacks, shirt and tie. There was, however, nothing ordinary about the barely there smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. Rather than take the risk of reading too much into his expression, she waited for him to begin.
Eyeing the lingerie and other gifts lying on a nearby table, he finally said, “Now that I know what goes on at bridal showers, I understand why my sisters like them so much. Add a stripper and a keg of beer, and they’re not much different from bachelor parties, are they?”
From now on, Beth told herself, she was going to expect him to say the last thing she expected. Shaking her head slightly, she said, “Not all bridal showers are like this one. I had several prior to my first marriage, and believe me, they were all extremely prim and proper.”
“No wonder the marriage failed.”
He’d done it again. Surprised every coherent thought right out of her head. Luckily, her answer was automatic. “I think you and I both know why my marriage failed, Tony.”
She had his undivided attention now. Lowering her voice slightly, she said, “I ran into Barry and his new wife last week. She was very beautiful, and very pregnant.”
Tony didn’t say anything, and she surged ahead. “Barry couldn’t deal with my endometriosis. He couldn’t even bring himself to say it.”
Tony’s eyebrows rose slightly at the medical term. As a doctor, he knew it well. In mild to moderate cases, it made menstruation painful and conception difficult. In severe cases it made one excruciating and the other impossible. “What has your doctor done about your condition?” he asked levelly.
“For now, I’m on medication. Eventually, I’ll need a hysterectomy. It’s pretty much textbook, isn’t it?”
Outwardly, Tony didn’t move, but inside, his thoughts were surging in every direction. He knew firsthand how devastating a diagnosis of endometriosis can be. He’d broken the news to a number of his patients over the years. Suddenly, he wished he could have been there for her, to hold her hand, or offer her his understanding, because he had a feeling her ex-husband hadn’t been concerned about her needs.
Beth stared up at Tony. He’d been quiet for a long time, obviously absorbing the information. He brushed a strand of hair off her face, his fingertips moving to her cheekbone as if he’d been wanting to touch her all day. She stared up at him, afraid of what he might do. Afraid of what he might not do.
Calling on her last vestige of courage, she said, “I’m thirty-five years old. Adopting Christopher could very well be my only chance at motherhood. I don’t blame you for having doubts, but this arrangement doesn’t have to be permanent. I’ll sign a prenuptial agreement, and I’ll give you a divorce anytime you want. Of course, I won’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind completely.”
Tony let his fingers glide through the wisps of hair in front of Beth’s ear, trail down the smooth column of her neck and brush the delicate ridge of her collarbone. He could hear her breath catch in her throat, could see the slight quiver in her proud chin. He couldn’t name all the emotions crashing through him, but he knew damn well a woman like her shouldn’t have to beg.
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