Читать онлайн книгу «Triplets For The Texan» автора Джанис Мейнард

Triplets For The Texan
Janice Maynard
When the man who got away delivers shocking baby news… Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Janice Maynard!Simone Parker will soon be a single mom, thanks to a sperm donor. But when the doctor tells her not one but three babies are on the way, Simone is floored. Especially since the good doctor is none other than the first love who broke her heart, Troy "Hutch" Hutchinson.Touched by tragedy on an overseas humanitarian mission, Hutch has returned a changed man. What hasn't changed is the fiery chemistry he shares with Simone. But will Simone's secret reason for conceiving destroy their second chance?


When the man who got away delivers shocking baby news… Only from USA TODAY bestselling author Janice Maynard!
Simone Parker will soon be a single mom, thanks to a sperm donor. But when the doctor tells her not one but three babies are on the way, Simone is floored. Especially since the good doctor is none other than the first love who broke her heart, Troy “Hutch” Hutchinson.
Touched by tragedy on an overseas humanitarian mission, Hutch has returned a changed man. What hasn’t changed is the fiery chemistry he shares with Simone. But will Simone’s secret reason for conceiving destroy their second chance?
“You’re a gorgeous man.
With a kind heart. I’m sure I won’t be the only woman in Royal who appreciates your sterling qualities.”
“Aw, hell. You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“Maybe a little.” She smiled gently. “Six months ago your virtue might have been in danger. But now I have three babies to consider. Their welfare has to come before anything else in my life.”
“Even romance?”
“Especially romance.”
“Then I guess we’ve cleared the air.”
“I guess we have.”
“I should go,” he said. But he didn’t move.
Simone stood up, swaying a bit before she steadied herself with a hand on the back of the chair. “Yes, you should.”
Squaring his shoulders, he nodded. The urge to kiss her was overpowering.
She kept a hand on the chair, either because she felt faint or because she intended to use it as a shield. Either way, it didn’t matter. He wanted to taste her more than he wanted his next breath.
* * *
Triplets for the Texan is part of the series Texas Cattleman’s Club: Blackmail—No secret—or heart— is safe in Royal, Texas...
Triplets for the Texan
Janice Maynard


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
USA TODAY bestselling author JANICE MAYNARD loved books and writing even as a child. But it took multiple rejections before she sold her first manuscript. Since 2002, she has written over forty-five books and novellas. Janice lives in east Tennessee with her husband, Charles. They love hiking, traveling and spending time with family.
You can connect with Janice at:
www.janicemaynard.com (http://www.janicemaynard.com), Twitter.com/janicemaynard (http://Twitter.com/janicemaynard), Facebook.com/janicemaynardreaderpage (http://Facebook.com/janicemaynardreaderpage), Facebook.com/janicesmaynard (http://Facebook.com/janicesmaynard) and Instagram.com/janicemaynard (http://Instagram.com/janicemaynard).
For Charles Griemsman, editor extraordinaire.
Thanks for all your hard work and your
commitment to making stories shine.
The Texas Cattleman’s Club
wouldn’t be the same without you!
Contents
Cover (#u7c7931b5-e985-59c1-a5f2-d946c3e23bc4)
Back Cover Text (#u3647e940-88f8-5e9c-9df9-e56b9c5b60a4)
Introduction (#uc19e8f6f-e0f4-5538-b22a-dcf57e9346cc)
Title Page (#u1bf48207-3a21-51a8-9999-b712610799eb)
About the Author (#u9cede5a7-0ad6-5f2d-8846-21482b925a06)
Dedication (#u54dff85b-86bb-5e40-b334-b994d707b99b)
One (#uf8f576c1-ca3c-52fb-b67f-02f15428085b)
Two (#u3526331a-33b2-512b-b9d4-c78a957af3da)
Three (#u7f023bf0-2650-5015-a07e-a93a7030a52b)
Four (#uaad95300-8650-5548-91fa-5a8fd277a5a0)
Five (#u5cf3d864-a511-53fa-b335-ff6c4a0cc3bf)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#u423052c9-dc69-5a61-b438-242e9f64750d)
Royal, Texas, was a great place to call home. Running her own ad agency, being a member of the esteemed Texas Cattleman’s Club and maintaining a hectic social life kept Simone Parker plenty busy. Busy enough not to worry about the ghosts of lost loves.
Today, her luck had run out. Five years. It had been five long years since she’d last laid eyes on Troy Hutchinson. Now here she sat in a freezing exam room at Royal Memorial, naked but for a thin paper hospital gown, and in walked the man who broke her heart. Pressing her knees together instinctively, she gripped the edge of the exam table and blurted out the first thing that came to her mind.
“Where’s Dr. Markman?”
Hutch—almost nobody called him Troy—stared at her impassively. “He took a position in Houston. I’m the new head of the maternal-fetal medicine department.”
Made sense. Royal’s state-of-the-art hospital hired only the best.
It occurred to her that Hutch didn’t look at all surprised to see her. But then again, he’d obviously glanced at her chart before entering the room. He was as gorgeous as ever—chocolate eyes, closely cropped black hair and mocha skin. The only thing missing was his killer smile.
Tall and lean, in his physical prime, the man was impressive even without the lab coat. Wearing it, he exuded authority and masculinity. Making Simone feel small and stupid.
Her stomach curled with nausea. Today’s situation was volatile enough without having to confront old lovers. As if the term applied. She’d been a twenty-two-year-old virgin when she and Hutch first hooked up. She’d had only one relationship after that, and it had been brief and unexceptional.
For most of her life she’d chosen to hide behind her reputation as a shallow party girl. Even Hutch had believed it in the beginning. Until he’d realized he was the first. Then there had been hell to pay.
Her palms started to sweat. “You can’t be my doctor.”
“Of course not,” he said. “Dr. Markman left rather abruptly. We’ve been in the process of notifying his patients. Somehow, your appointment fell through the cracks. Dr. Janine Fetter has agreed to take over your case...with your permission, of course.”
“That’s fine,” Simone said impatiently. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
A faint smile lightened his face. “Don’t shoot the messenger. Scheduling should have postponed your ultrasound until next week. Dr. Fetter doesn’t have any openings until then. She’s not even here today.”
Great, just great. Hutch knew every inch of her body. Even so, no way in heck was she going to calmly put her feet in those stirrups and let him examine her. That was too icky for words. “What are my options?”
“You can make an appointment for next week and go home...”
“Or?”
“Or if you don’t want to wait, I can go over the ultrasound with you. But no exam,” he said quickly.
“Ah.” Simone had badgered the tech to explain all the grainy images on the screen, but the woman had been well trained. She’d done her job, escorted Simone to yet another exam room and left her to worry for forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for a single woman to regret the impulsive decision that had led her to this moment.
“So tell me,” she snapped, her nerves getting the best of her. “I’m not pregnant, am I? Don’t worry. I won’t fall apart. I knew the odds when I went into this.”
Pursuing fertility treatments and intrauterine insemination had been more involved than she had ever imagined. Even now, she wouldn’t be entirely unhappy if it hadn’t worked. Picking out a sperm donor and dealing with hormone shots had been stressful, expensive and time-consuming. It had also given her plenty of opportunity to rethink her hasty decision.
Her late grandfather had left instructions with the executors of his will that she would be entitled to half of his vast estate—five million dollars cash and the family homestead, worth infinitely more—if, and only if, she produced an heir to continue the family bloodline. With no plans to settle down anytime soon, she’d decided to go the route of single motherhood.
Trying to live up to the terms of her grandfather’s will—without weighing the cost—was, in retrospect, probably a stupid decision.
She must have had gut-level doubts from the beginning, because she hadn’t even told her two best friends, Naomi and Cecelia. Naomi had seemed distracted and tense ever since she got back from Europe, and Cecelia had been on cloud nine after reuniting with former flame Deacon Chase. So Simone had kept her plans to herself.
For the first time, Hutch’s facade cracked. His jaw firmed, and his eyes were bleak. “No one told me you had gotten married, Simone. Though, knowing you, I’m not surprised you kept your maiden name. Don’t you want the baby’s father to be here when we talk about these results? Can you contact him? We could reschedule for later this afternoon.”
She stared at Hutch. “Have you read through my file?”
“Not yet. But I will, of course. All I’ve seen is the ultrasound report. I only came on board officially yesterday. To be honest, I’m still a little jet-lagged.”
And no wonder. He’d spent the past half decade in Sudan with Doctors Without Borders. The man was almost too good to be true, strong, sensitive and—when he unleashed that boy-next-door charm—virtually irresistible.
Though they had no longer been a couple when he left Royal, Texas, in the intervening months and years, she had worried about him. Malaria. Viral hemorrhagic fever. Political uprisings. He had thrust himself into a hotbed of danger and never looked back. Even without being there, Simone knew he had saved untold numbers of mothers and babies.
Hutch had completed not one but two stints in Sudan. When he hadn’t returned after the first one, she knew for sure he was no longer interested in resurrecting their relationship—although that was possibly too mature a word for the affair. She and Hutch together had been like fireworks, burning hot and bright and beautiful, but over too soon.
While she mentally rehashed the painful past, Hutch waited patiently, his expression guarded. Having him eye her with the impassivity of a medical professional hurt. A lot.
Whipping up a batch of righteous indignation helped. It was none of Hutch’s concern what she did with her life. “There is no father in the picture,” she said bluntly. “Go ahead and tell me what you have to say.”
For a split second, something flickered across his face. Shock? Probably. Relief? Unlikely.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his tone so formal it could have frozen the air itself. “Are you divorced? Widowed?”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to ask me that, Dr. Hutchinson.” She was furious suddenly—at herself for making such a mess of things, at Hutch for having the audacity to come home looking wonderful and completely unapproachable, if a bit tired, and at life in general.
He swallowed. “My apologies. You’re right. That was out of line.”
Despite her best intentions, she couldn’t stay mad. Not today. And besides, what did it matter if she told him? Not the whole truth, of course. But he had her file at his disposal. Sooner or later, he would know. She might as well put a good spin on it.
“I wanted to have a baby,” she said bluntly. Maybe for all the wrong reasons, but still... “I chose to use an anonymous sperm donor, because I had no significant other in the picture. This baby will be mine and mine alone. There are plenty of single mothers out there doing very well. I have a good job, financial resources and plenty of friends. I’ll be able to handle motherhood, Hutch. You don’t have to look at me like that.”
Her decisions about parenthood and her grandfather’s bequest were her own. She didn’t want to be judged, and in truth, the facts could very easily be misinterpreted, leaving her in a bad light.
It was a real worry, particularly since the mysterious Maverick had somehow found out about her fertility treatments and threatened to expose her secrets. She pushed that situation to the back of her mind. Dealing with Hutch was enough drama for one day.
He stared at her with such intensity she felt oddly faint. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. Hutch’s expression was a mixture of incredulity, pity and disapproval. Or at least that was how she interpreted it. At one time, she could guess what he was thinking. That was long ago, though.
Tossing the manila folder on the counter beside the computer, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I have no doubts about your ability to care for a baby,” he said.
She frowned. “Then why all the mystery? Why do you look like you’re about to deliver words of doom? Is it something else? A tumor? Some weird cancer? Am I dying? That would suck.”
His lips twitched. “Not at all, Simone. You’re having triplets.”
* * *
Hutch cursed when Simone went milk pale and keeled over. He caught her before she hit the floor, but just barely. Hell, he knew better. It wasn’t the kind of news one delivered with a baseball bat. As usual, though, she rattled him. Even now.
Cradling her in his arms, he turned back to the exam table. His instinct was to hold her until she woke up. But that was all kinds of unethical. Instead, he laid her gently on her back and reached into the cabinet for a soft, mesh-weave blanket. Covering her all the way up to her neck, he tried not to notice the way she smelled. He could have identified her scent with his eyes closed. A mix of floral and spicy that was uniquely Simone.
She roused slowly, those incredibly long lashes fluttering as she came back to him. “What happened?”
When she tried to rise up onto her elbows, he put a hand on her shoulder to keep her down. “Give yourself a minute to recover. You’ve had a shock.”
Even befuddled and wrapped in a generic blanket, she was striking. Her blue eyes were electric, somewhere between royal and aquamarine. Her hair made as much of an impact as her eyes. The smooth, silky fall was the black of a raven’s wing...shot through with blue in the sunlight. He tried not to remember what it felt like to wrap his hands in all that thick, glorious hair. At one time, it had reached almost to her waist. The style was shorter now, but still a couple of inches below her shoulders.
Her gaze cleared gradually. “So I wasn’t dreaming.” The words were not really a question.
“No.”
“I want to sit up.”
He helped her, though it was difficult to touch her. She made him feel like a gawky adolescent. That was bloody uncomfortable for a man supposed to be in charge of Royal, Texas’s world-class obstetrics department.
“I apologize for springing it on you, Simone. There’s no easy way to drop that bomb. I have to tell you I’m surprised and concerned that you’ve chosen this option.”
“I’m not getting any younger.” The set of her jaw was mulish.
He remembered all too well what Simone was like when she made up her mind about something. “You’re not even thirty. Couldn’t you have waited and taken the traditional route?” he asked.
The wash of color that had returned to her face leached away again. Her eyes glittered with something that might have been pain or anger. “I tried that once or twice. I’m not a fan. Men complicate things.”
The blunt retort was a direct shot at him. It found its mark. Clearly, Simone still blamed him for their breakup. He wanted to fight back, but it was pointless after all this time. His job wasn’t to be her friend, or even her boyfriend. He was charged with overseeing her medical care.
“I suppose it’s a moot point now,” he said, feeling weary and discouraged. “Unless you’ve changed your mind. Do you want to terminate the pregnancy? If that’s your decision, hospital staff would of course preserve your privacy.”
Simone blinked. “Is that what you think I should do?”
He weighed his words carefully. “Having triplets is an enormous commitment, even for a two-parent family. You would be doing this alone.”
She stared at him. Her restless fingers pleated the edges of the blanket. “I want these babies.”
He cocked his head, trying to read her emotions. “You wanted one baby, Simone. I think you need to weigh the situation seriously. While it’s still very early.”
“There’s nothing to consider. I made a choice. I have to live with the consequences.”
“For the rest of your life.”
Hot color streaked her cheekbones. “I know you think I’m flighty and impulsive and a lightweight. What you don’t realize is that I’ve grown up a lot in the time you’ve been gone. I can do this.”
“But why?” That’s what confused him. It wasn’t as if she was running out of time. Besides, she had never particularly struck him as the maternal type.
“My reasons are my business, Dr. Hutchinson. Am I free to go now?”
There were secrets in her eyes and in her heart. He knew it. The two of them might have been separated by time and distance for the past few years, but there had been a moment when he had known everything about her. Every thought. Every feeling. Every beat of her energetic, enthusiastic, passionate heart.
The Simone he knew jumped into life with both feet, usually via the deep end. She had her naysayers—Royal was a relatively small town with a long memory. Her youthful missteps had cost her. A reputation was a hard thing to shake. But he knew she had a good heart.
“Just hear me out. You should know, Simone, that a multiple pregnancy immediately puts you in the high-risk category. The hospital hired me for my expertise. I’ll be overseeing your case indirectly. Dr. Fetter will alert me if any problems arise. Will that be a problem?”
Simone blinked. “Do you have any crackers?”
“Excuse me?” Had his hearing taken a hit in Sudan?
“I need saltines. I’m about to puke.”
Oh, lord. “Hold on,” he said. Opening the door to the hallway, he bellowed for a nurse. The poor woman must have sprinted, because she was back in two minutes with the crackers and a cup of ice chips.
He took them with muttered thanks, closed the door firmly and turned to Simone. She wasn’t white anymore. More like a transparent shade of green. Grabbing a plastic basin from the cabinet, he put it in her lap and unwrapped the crackers. “Slowly,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” she muttered. “I’m afraid to move.”
“Poor baby.” He’d seen pregnant women almost every day of his professional life, but none had ever touched him as deeply as this one. Without overthinking it, he put an arm behind her back to support her. “I’ll hold the cracker,” he said. “You nibble.”
It was a measure of how miserable she was that she didn’t fight him. No snappy comeback. No insistence she could feed herself. When she leaned into him, his heart actually skipped a beat. A huge neon sign flashed in his brain. Warning! Warning!
Even though he knew he couldn’t get close to her again, his body betrayed him. She was so familiar, so delightfully feminine. Every caveman instinct he possessed told him to fight for her, to protect her. Women were tough, far tougher than men at times. Still, this Simone who had come to him today was at a low spot. He wanted to make it all right for her.
Yet he was the last person she needed. He’d suffered too much heartache, witnessed too much heartbreak to offer Simone anything resembling the love they had once shared.
She managed the first cracker and started on the second. In between bites, he offered the ice chips. Four crackers in each pack, eight in all. Eventually, she finished them.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m okay now.”
It was patently untrue, but he took her words at face value. He handed her what was left of the cup of ice. “I have other patients to see,” he said, wondering why the thought of leaving this room was so unappealing.
“I know,” she said. “Go. I’m fine. I’m glad you didn’t die in Africa.”
He chuckled. “Is that all you have to say?”
“I don’t want to add to your ego. I won’t be surprised if the town makes you the patron saint of Royal. Saint Hutch. It has a ring to it, don’t you think?”
“You’re such a brat.”
“Some things never change.” Her teeth dug into her bottom lip.
Gradually, her color was returning to normal. The doctor in him approved. “That’s not true, Simone. Neither of us is who we were five years ago. I know I’m not.”
She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Is that a polite warning? You’re telling me not to get any ideas?” Her sidelong glance held a touch of wry mischief.
Even now, she had the power to shock him. While he’d been willing to dance around their painful past, Simone plunged right into the murky depths. Maybe she knew him better than he realized.
“I wasn’t, but I probably should have.”
“You’re not my doctor.”
“No. Not technically.” He paused, weighing his words. “Perhaps this is presumptuous on my part, but you opened this can of worms. I knew we would see each other again, Simone. It was inevitable if I came home. But...”
“But you’ve moved on.”
“Yes. I have.” He didn’t tell her the rest. He couldn’t.
Simone nodded. “I understand, Hutch. I think it’s obvious I have my hands full, too. Maybe we can be friends, though.”
“Maybe.” He let the lie roll off his lips. As much as he wanted to help her, he couldn’t get close. Not again. “Are you okay now? The nausea’s better?”
She handed him the basin. “False alarm. You’re good at this. Maybe you should be a doctor.”
His smile was genuine. Simone had always been able to make him laugh, even when he took himself too seriously. He reached in his pocket for a business card and scrawled his cell number on the back. “I need you to promise,” he said, handing it to her.
“Promise what?” She handled the little rectangle as if it were a poisonous snake.
“I want you to promise that you’ll call me immediately if you have any problems.”
“What about Dr. Fetter?”
He shoved his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. “She’s a busy doctor with a lot of patients.”
“And you’re not?”
They stared at each other in silence. “Hell, Simone. You’re not making this easy.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“We share a past. I want to make sure you and these babies are okay.”
“Saint Hutch.”
If that’s what she wanted to think, he might as well let her. It was far better than the truth. “I care about you,” he said quietly. “I mean it. Any hour. Night or day. This isn’t a typical pregnancy. I want to hear you say it.”
She lifted one shoulder in an elegant gesture he remembered well. “Fine. I promise. Are you happy now?”
He hadn’t been happy for a very long time. “It will do. I’ll be in touch, Simone. Take care of yourself.”
Two (#u423052c9-dc69-5a61-b438-242e9f64750d)
After the run-in with Hutch, the actual appointment with Dr. Fetter a week later was anticlimactic. The rules for a multiple pregnancy were pretty much the same as any pregnancy. Take vitamins. Sleep and rest the appropriate amount. Exercise every day. Report any spotting or bleeding.
That last bit was scary. Simone stared at the obstetrician as the woman entered notes on a laptop. “How often does that happen? Bleeding, I mean.”
Dr. Fetter looked up over the top of her glasses. “Ten to twenty percent of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, Simone. With multiples, the risk is higher. Nevertheless, you shouldn’t waste time worrying about it. Your ultrasound looks good, and we’ll monitor you closely, much more so than a typical pregnancy warrants.”
“I see.” It was easy for the doctor to say don’t worry. She wasn’t the one carrying three brand-new lives.
Soon after that sobering conversation, Simone was back outside staring around in a daze at the nicely landscaped grounds of the hospital. Triplets. No matter how many times she repeated the word in her head, it didn’t seem real. She’d had daydreams about pushing a stylish stroller with a tiny infant dressed in pink or blue. It was hard to fathom the reality of taking three babies out on the town.
She sat in her car for the longest time, telling herself everything was going to be okay. Her initial motives in getting pregnant had been less than pure. Was the universe punishing her for playing around with motherhood?
Despite evidence to the contrary, she was stunned to realize that she wanted these babies desperately. Not one of them, or two...but all three. Placing her palm flat on her abdomen, she tried to imagine what she was going to look like in a few months. With triplets, she could be huge.
Oddly, the thought wasn’t as alarming as it should have been. For a woman who wore haute couture as a matter of course and worked hard to keep her body in shape, the fact that she was able to imagine herself as big as a blimp without hyperventilating showed personal growth.
At least that’s what she told herself.
It was getting late. She was supposed to be at Naomi’s condo in less than an hour. Naomi and Cecelia were making their signature jalapeño and shredded beef pizza. Normally, Simone gobbled down at least three pieces. How was she going to make it through the evening when the thought of food made her want to barf?
As she drove to the other side of town, she practiced what she was going to say. By the way, I haven’t had sex in months, but I’m pregnant with triplets. Or how about I ran into Hutch last week. I don’t think I ever got over him.
Already she was reconsidering her decision to keep Naomi and Cecelia in the dark. This was too hard to do alone. She needed someone to talk to...someone who would have her back. If she couldn’t confide in her two best friends, she couldn’t confide in anybody. Naomi and Cecelia had been her closest companions and confidantes since grade school. Still, she wasn’t ready to spill all her secrets at once. She needed time to wrap her head around things. It was happening too fast.
As Simone entered her code on a keypad and rolled through the elegant gate, she noted the perfectly manicured grounds of the luxury condo complex. Naomi’s privacy was protected here. Naomi Price was famous in Royal for any number of reasons. Her cable television show had been picked up nationally, so now she was dispensing style advice to women—and men—coast to coast.
Simone parked and walked up the path. When she rang the buzzer, Cecelia answered the door. “It’s about time. Where have you been?”
Clearly, the question was rhetorical, because Cecelia disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Simone to put a hand over her mouth and gag at the smell of cooking meat. Oh, lordy. She fished a water bottle from the depths of her leather tote and took a cautious sip. If she wasn’t ready to talk about the babies, she had to get her stomach under control. Otherwise, her secret wasn’t going to be a secret for very long.
Gingerly, she rounded the corner and entered the kitchen. The room wasn’t huge, but it was as stylish as the woman who hovered over the stove. Naomi had brown eyes and long copper-brown hair. She was charming and extremely pretty, but Simone knew her friend didn’t understand how beautiful she was.
Cecelia, on the other hand, had bombshell looks and knew how to use them. Her platinum hair and long legs drew men in droves. Her company, To the Moon, produced high-end children’s merchandise but had recently branched out to the adult furniture realm with the launch of Luna Fine Furnishings. Simone and her ad agency were currently producing a hard-hitting campaign designed to take Cecelia’s company to the next level.
The other two women barely said hello at first. They were squabbling over the correct ratio of peppers to meat. At last, Naomi looked up. “Hey, hon. What’s the matter with you? I’ve seen ghosts with more color.”
That was the thing about good friends. They didn’t sugarcoat things. “Just an upset stomach,” Simone said. “I think I ate too much at lunch.” Fortunately, meal prep took precedence and no one called her on the lie.
Normally, Simone would have offered to help, but right now she stayed as far away from the food as possible. When the large pizza was in the oven, the three women adjourned to the living room. Simone envied Naomi’s innate sense of style. Her home was stunning but extremely comfortable.
Simone claimed a comfy chair and sat down gingerly. She’d always heard about morning sickness, but she had never imagined how wretched it could be. Tucking her legs beneath her, she tried to get comfortable.
Cecelia, on the other hand, hovered by the window. She was always a high-energy person. Today she practically vibrated with excitement.
Naomi took a sip of her Chardonnay and waved a hand. “What’s up, Cecelia? You said we had to wait for Simone. She’s here now. Don’t keep us in suspense.”
The tall blonde spun around, fumbled in her pocket and held out her hand. “Deacon proposed! And I’m pregnant.”
After that dual announcement, much squealing ensued. Simone and Naomi hugged their friend and admired the ring. Deacon Chase was quite a catch. He’d lived in Europe for a decade, but had returned to Royal and purchased a beautiful country lodge on the outskirts of town. The gorgeous, self-made billionaire hotelier had confidence and charisma and a dimpled smile that broke hearts everywhere. As far as Simone was concerned, he was one of the few men alive who could handle Cecelia and not be intimidated by her looks and personality.
Clearly, now was not the time for Simone to share her own news. For one, she didn’t want to steal Cecelia’s thunder.
When the furor died down, they adjourned to the kitchen and dug into the freshly baked pizza. Simone’s stomach cooperated enough for her to get down most of one piece, though she surreptitiously removed the jalapeños and wrapped them in a paper napkin. No point in tempting fate.
“So who’s your doctor?” Simone asked. Please don’t let it be Hutch.
“I’m seeing Janine Fetter. She’s not real chatty or friendly, but I don’t need that in a doctor. I want someone I can trust to take care of me and my baby. Dr. Fetter fits the bill.”
Naomi shook her head. “I still can’t believe it. This means we’ll have to plan a baby shower.”
Cecelia laughed. “Give it time. I’m still in my first trimester. Plenty of opportunity for that. Deacon and I are going to keep the news to ourselves for a while, but he knew I would have to tell you two.”
“Well, I should think so,” Naomi said. “We’ve never kept secrets from each other.”
Simone grimaced inwardly. The trio’s tight friendship had backfired in Royal at times. Some people referred to them as the mean girls. The label wasn’t fair. They weren’t mean. But when three women were extremely successful, attractive and high-profile, there were bound to be those who took potshots. The criticism had sharpened after Naomi, Cecelia and Simone had been admitted into the Texas Cattleman’s Club.
Some diehards still thought women should be kept out. And somebody had started the rumor that Naomi, Cecelia and Simone could be behind the malicious blackmail messages various residents of Royal had been receiving via social media.
It wasn’t true. Even Cecelia had received one of the blackmailer’s threats. Simone, too, though she hadn’t told anyone.
Later that evening as Simone drove home, she struggled with feelings of envy. Cecelia had a baby on the way and a wedding to plan. That meant Cecelia’s situation was cause for celebration. Simone, on the other hand, was pregnant with triplets whose biological father was an unknown sperm donor.
Lots of people used sperm donors in situations of infertility. But those were loving couples who made a joint decision and were excited about the chance to bring a child into their home.
Simone had done it selfishly because of her grandfather’s stupid, archaic will. Blinking back tears, she clutched the steering wheel and apologized to the three tiny sparks of life in her womb. “I swear I’ll be a good mom,” she whispered. “I would take it all back if I could, but now you’re on the way, and I want to keep you. You’ll find out soon enough that grown-ups make mistakes. Me, in particular.”
It would have been nice to have someone say, “There, there, Simone. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Everything will work out for the best. You’ll see.” Unfortunately, unless she confided in Naomi and Cecelia, no one in Royal was likely to fulfill the role of pep squad. She’d have to be her own cheerleader. First order of business would be enjoying a relaxing evening at home.
Her house was welcoming and warm, but in a whole different way than Naomi’s. After the ad agency landed its third big client, Simone had moved out of her bland apartment and purchased a five-acre estate in Pine Valley. The place was ridiculously large for one person, but she loved it.
At least she would have plenty of room for a live-in nanny. Or maybe two. Triplets! How would she ever manage?
When she made the turn from the main road onto her property, she noted with pride the way the flowering cherry trees lined the driveway. When the wind blew, tiny white petals fluttered down like snow. Spring in Royal, Texas, was her favorite time of year.
It was a surprise to see a black SUV parked on the curving flagstone apron at her front door. An even bigger shock was the man who stepped out to face her. Not bothering to put her small sports car in the garage, she slammed on the brakes and slid out from behind the wheel. “What are you doing here, Hutch?”
She hated the way her heart jumped when she saw him. Even without three babies on the way, she shouldn’t get involved again. Given the current situation, it would be emotional suicide to think she had any kind of chance with the good doctor.
In his muscular arms he held a medium-sized box. “I brought you some books from my medical library. I remembered how you like to research things on your own, so I thought you could take a look at these. Plenty of stuff here about multiple births, both from a medical standpoint and from a practical parenting aspect.”
“That’s thoughtful of you,” Simone said. “Do you offer this kind of service to all your patients?”
His lips quirked in a reluctant smile. “You’re not my patient, remember?”
“True.” She wasn’t exactly sure what the protocol was here. In any case, she couldn’t leave the man standing outside. “Would you like to come in for some iced tea or a cola?”
“Decaf coffee?” he asked hopefully.
“That, too.”
“I’m in.”
She unlocked the front door and tossed her keys on a table in the foyer. Hutch set the box on a chair and looked around with interest. “I like your house,” he said. “It looks like you.”
Simone made her way to the kitchen, painfully aware that he followed closely at her heels. “How so?” She opened the refrigerator to cool her hot face and to hide for a moment. Her heart raced at a crazy tempo.
“Modern. Stylish. Simple. Sophisticated.”
Wow. Was that really how he saw her? While she put the coffee on to brew, Hutch perched on a stool at the bar. “Thank you,” she muttered. Was he thinking about all the money she had spent while he was caring for sick babies in terrible poverty? Was his compliment actually a veiled criticism?
Maybe she was reading too much into a casual comment.
“Where will you live now that you’re back?” she asked. “Somewhere near the hospital?”
“Actually,” he said with a weary grin, “I’m going to be your neighbor. I’ll be closing on the brick colonial down the road soon.”
“Oh.” She knew the house well. It was less than half a mile from her place. Was that a coincidence?
Hutch shrugged. “I’m too old for bachelor digs. I wanted to put down roots.”
“No more Doctors Without Borders?”
“I don’t think so. It’s a young man’s game. I gave it more than five years of my life. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done, but it was time to come home.”
“I’m sure your parents are delighted.” Hutch’s mother and father were both lawyers. They had raised their son to believe he could be or do anything he wanted. Hutch had excelled all the way through school, despite the occasional run-ins with bullies.
“They were over the moon when they heard.”
“Must be nice. My mom and dad drop by only when they want to lecture me about something. Of course, you probably remember that.” Her parents had been none too thrilled about their only daughter dating someone they hadn’t handpicked for her. Neither Hutch nor Simone had let the veiled disapproval dissuade them.
Remembering the passionate affair and its inevitable end was something Simone managed to avoid. Mostly. But with Hutch in her kitchen, the memories came crashing back.
The two of them had met at a party at the Cattleman’s Club. Simone had been barely twenty-two and ready to fall in love. The town had thought she was promiscuous—still did—but that was a facade she hid behind. If people wanted to look down their noses at her, she wasn’t going to stop them.
Being introduced to Troy Hutchinson by a mutual acquaintance had been kismet. The moment she laid eyes on him, she knew he was the one. Though he was ridiculously handsome, it was his quiet, steady intelligence that drew her in. Hutch was no callow boy looking for an easy lay.
He had talked to her, listened to her opinions. Danced with her. Laughed at her jokes. And in a secluded corner outside the club, he had kissed her. Even now she could remember everything about that magical moment. The way he smelled of lime and starched cotton. The sensation of feeling small and protected, though she was more than capable of taking care of herself. He was taller than she was and extremely fit, which made sense, of course, for someone who had devoted himself to the pursuit of medicine.
“Simone? Hello in there...”
Suddenly he was standing in front of her, his smile quizzical. “You’ve been stirring that cup of coffee for a long time.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. Did he know what she was thinking? Could he read her mind?
“Here,” she said. “I fixed it the way you like it. Strong enough to peel paint and enough sugar to give you cavities.”
He took the cup and sipped slowly, his eyes closing in bliss. “Now this is good coffee. Might even compete with the real stuff in Africa.”
“I’m sure not everything was great. As I recall, you were a meat-and-potatoes guy, too. Not much prime beef where you were, I’d say.”
“You’re right, of course. I lost twenty pounds after I arrived in Sudan and never quite gained it back.”
“Let’s take our drinks into the den.” She grabbed a package of cookies out of the cabinet and led the way. Hutch chose a wing-backed chair near the dormant fireplace. Simone claimed one end of the sofa.
He sat back with a sigh, balancing his cup on his flat abdomen. “You’ve done well for yourself, Simone. I’m proud of you. Everyone in town sings your praises—well, your ad agency’s praises,” he clarified.
“That might be a stretch, but thanks. Hard work and a dollop of luck.”
“I always knew you’d make your mark in Royal.”
She frowned. Her ambition had been partly the cause of their breakup, but not from her perspective. She hadn’t wanted to stand in the way of Hutch’s dreams. When he’d offered to wait on Africa until her agency was established, she had insisted he should go. Hutch read that as a rejection. He thought she cared more about her business and money than about him. Stupid man.
Still, that was a long time ago.
For several long minutes they drank their coffee in silence. She was tired and queasy and sad. Seeing Hutch again was a painful reminder of how many times in her life she had made mistakes.
Would she ever learn?
At last, the silence became unbearable. She set her cup on a side table. “I think you should go now,” she said. “I don’t feel very well. I’d like to rest. And if I’m being honest, I’d rather not have people see your car in front of my house.”
Three (#u423052c9-dc69-5a61-b438-242e9f64750d)
Hutch grimaced. Her words stung, even though they gave him an easy out.
He had told himself he was indifferent to Simone now, but in his gut he knew the truth. The first moment he laid eyes on her in that exam room a week ago, he’d felt the same dizzying punch of desire he’d always experienced when he was with her.
Panic swept through him like a sickening deluge. He couldn’t do that again. Not after what had happened in Sudan. It was better that Simone knew the score.
She lost patience with his lack of verbal response. “If you have something to say, say it. I’ve had a long, stressful day, and I want to take a bath and get into bed.”
I’d like to join you... His subconscious was honest and uncomfortable.
The dark shadows beneath her beautiful eyes reminded him she was in a fragile state, both mentally and physically.
The fact that he wanted so badly to hold her told him he had to protect himself.
He stood and paced, his hands jammed in his pockets. “I understand why you want me to move my car. Now that I’m back in town and we’re both still single, the gossip mill will undoubtedly have us hooking up any day now. People may even say your triplets are mine.”
Simone swallowed visibly. “Gossip isn’t reality.”
“Maybe not. But I have to be up front with you. I’m not willing to get involved in a relationship.”
She was pale and silent, her sapphire-eyed stare judging him. “I don’t recall asking you to. But to clarify, is your distaste for romance because of our past?”
“Not entirely. I fell in love with a fellow doctor while I was in Sudan. Her name was Bethany.”
For a split second, he could swear he saw anguish in Simone’s eyes. But if it was there, she recovered quickly.
“You said was? Past tense?”
He nodded jerkily. “She died two years ago. Cut her foot on a rock. Doctors make the worst patients, you know. She didn’t tell any of us how serious it was. Ended up with sepsis. I couldn’t save her.” Even now the memory sickened him.
Simone leaned forward. “I am so sorry, Hutch.”
Her sympathy should have soothed him. Instead, it made him feel guilty. “I’ll always be fond of you, Simone...and I’ll care about you. But I need you to know that’s all it will be.”
She blinked. “I see.”
“I suppose you think I’m assuming a hell of a lot to think you would even be interested after all this time.”
“Not at all. You’re a gorgeous man. With a kind heart. I’m sure I won’t be the only woman in Royal who appreciates your sterling qualities.”
“Aw, hell. You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?”
“Maybe a little.” She smiled gently. “Six months ago your virtue might have been in danger. But now I have three babies to consider. Their welfare has to come before anything else in my life.”
“Even romance?”
“Especially romance.”
“Then I guess we’ve cleared the air.”
“I guess we have.”
“I should go,” he said. But he didn’t move.
Simone stood up, swaying a bit before she steadied herself with a hand on the back of the chair. “Yes, you should.”
Squaring his shoulders, he nodded. The urge to kiss her was overpowering.
She kept a hand on the chair, either because she felt faint or because she intended to use it as a shield. Either way, it didn’t matter. He wanted to taste her more than he wanted his next breath.
He put his hands on her shoulders, noting the tension there. She wasn’t wearing shoes, so the difference in their heights was magnified. Winnowing his fingers through her hair, he sighed. “I should have come home a year ago. Then maybe I could have talked you out of this single-mom idea.”
“Not your business, Doc.”
It was as easy as falling into a dream. He had loved Bethany, deeply and truly. And grieved her passing. But this thing with Simone was something else. Did he dare explore the possibilities?
Slowly, he moved his lips over hers, waiting for the protest that never came. She tasted of coffee and wonderful familiarity. But not comfort. Never comfort. There was too much heat. Too much yearning. When she went up on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, he groaned. Five years. Almost six. Gone in a flash.
He ran his hands over her back and landed on her bottom. She was thinner, but every bit as soft and appealing as she had ever been. Before he left for Sudan, when they were alone together, Simone had been unguarded...innocent. A far cry from the woman who tilted her chin and dared the world to disrespect her.
Every beat of his heart was magnified. He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear...nipped her earlobe with his teeth. Simone did nothing to stop him. In fact, she didn’t even try to hide the fact that she wanted him. Temptation sank its teeth into his gut and didn’t let go. He was hard as a pike. The sofa was close by. Damn. How could he still want her so badly? No. This had to stop. Now.
Dragging in great gulps of air, he broke free of the embrace, stumbled backward and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Does it make you happy to know I still want you?” he snarled. He felt like a fool.
Simone’s expression was gaunt and defeated. “Not happy at all, Hutch. But message received. You have nothing to fear from me. I’d appreciate it if you would let yourself out.”
* * *
She waited until she heard the front door slam before bursting into tears. Sliding down the wall and curling up in a knot of misery on the hallway floor, she cried ugly, wretched sobs that left her throat raw and her chest hollow.
She knew her hormones were all over the map, but it was more than that. Hutch might as well still be in Africa. The gulf between them was so deep and so wide, it was doubtful they could ever even manage to be friends. Yet the same incendiary attraction that had drawn them to each other in the beginning still existed.
The sensation of being wrapped in his strong arms...of feeling his steady heartbeat beneath her cheek...of knowing he wanted her as much as she wanted him brought back such crazy joy. Never in her life had she felt as happy or free as she had when she and Hutch were a couple.
What he said was true. If he had come home six months ago, she would never have embarked on this path of insanity. She’d been angry at her dead grandfather and determined to prove she was worthy of carrying on the family name. It had never been about the money, but more about legitimacy, a sense of belonging.
Now it was too late for second thoughts. The babies were a reality.
Stumbling to her bathroom, she washed her face and sprawled on the bed. She was hungry again, but it was a weird hunger. Beneath the pangs of an empty stomach rolled a sensation of nausea in the offing.
Finally, at midnight, she dragged herself out of bed and went to the kitchen in search of a snack. Milk seemed like a bad idea. Ditto for cheese or yogurt. Craving something salty, she found half a bag of stale, plain potato chips. She gobbled two handfuls and washed them down with ginger ale.
Her hunger appeased, she went back to bed only to jump up twenty minutes later and rush for the bathroom. She threw up violently, so hard that her ribs ached. Even rinsing out her mouth made her stomach heave.
Groaning, she found a damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. The notion that she might have to endure weeks of this misery pointed out once again how foolish she had been. I’m sorry, she said silently to the three lives she carried.
No matter what sacrifices it demanded, she would make sure this was a healthy pregnancy.
The following morning was no better. Dry cereal and water came right back up as soon as they went down. Her hands began to cramp, signaling possible dehydration. Doggedly, she sipped from a water bottle and forced herself to put on the same dress pants from the day before but with a different top. She couldn’t simply stay home because she felt bad. She had a business to run...a business that would soon support three tiny infants.
Driving was doable, but only because she never pushed the speedometer over thirty miles an hour. When she reached her office, the receptionist, Candace, gave her a wide-eyed stare. Simone didn’t engage. She made a beeline for her private suite, closed the door and put her head on the desk. The sharp corner of a business card poked her stomach through her pocket.
She pulled the rectangle out and laid it on the desk. Hutch. Dr. Hutch. Saint Hutch. It would be a cold day in hell before she called him for anything.
With nothing more than dogged determination and the inherent stubbornness that got her into trouble more often than not, she made it through an entire workday. The campaign for Luna Fine Furnishings, a subsidiary of Cecelia’s company, To the Moon, was coming along nicely. Phase one had already been rolled out. In two weeks, an intensive social media blitz would back up the initial print ads and billboards.
The noon lunch hour came and went. Simone didn’t even attempt to eat. At five o’clock, she closed her laptop, packed up her things and took a deep breath before heading out to her car. Once there, she had to spend another chunk of time convincing herself she could make the drive home. She was shaky, light-headed and so very sick.
She must have dozed when she got home, because suddenly it was seven o’clock. Naomi would bring her food if she called, but then Simone would have to explain what was going on. Even if it was time to share her secret with her friends, she’d rather do it with both women present.
Carryout pizza sounded revolting. Canvassing the pantry in her kitchen was an exercise in futility. She knew how to cook but seldom spared the time. Most days she had lunch with clients and grabbed a salad for dinner.
In the end, the only available choice was peanut butter. That was protein—right? Even her crackers were stale. But smeared with peanut butter, they were edible. At first, Simone thought she had landed on a miracle. The peanut butter was comfort food, its smell and taste appealing.
Sadly, no matter the enjoyment going down, everything she consumed came back up in a matter of minutes.
The night passed slowly. She alternated between lying on top of the covers covered in a cold sweat and hunching over the toilet. No matter how slowly she sipped water, it wouldn’t stay down. Nor would anything else.
Once she almost fell, so dizzy the room spun around her. Finally, at 4:00 a.m., she collapsed into an exhausted slumber.
When her alarm went off, she muttered an incredulous protest. How did working mothers do this?
Dragging herself into the shower, she held on to the towel bar as she washed her hair. Blow-drying it took everything she had. At last she was dressed and ready to go. By now the thought of trying to eat was beyond her. Maybe she’d be able to attempt some lunch.
The ride to work was a blur. This time she barely noticed the receptionist’s look of consternation. Simone’s mouth was dry and fuzzy. How could she risk taking a drink when she might have to rush for the bathroom? No one in Royal knew she was pregnant. Well, aside from Hutch and Dr. Fetter. It was far too early to let that cat out of the bag.
As she sat in a stupor at her desk, the buzzer on her phone sounded. “Line two, Ms. Parker. It’s your accountant.”
Later, Simone couldn’t remember the exact details of that conversation. For all she knew, she might have agreed to transfer her personal and business funds to illegal offshore accounts.
Thankfully, her two full-time employees—including her exceptional right hand, Tess—were out of town at a conference. The receptionist was fairly new and wouldn’t have the temerity to invade her office uninvited.
So the hours passed.
At one, Simone knew she had to eat something. Her headache had reached monumental proportions. Maybe she would send Candace out to get chicken noodle soup. Not only would that guarantee Simone a few minutes of privacy to test her stomach with a sip of water, but the soup might actually be good for her.
She stood up on trembling legs. Rarely did she ask an employee to carry out a personal errand, but she was literally incapable of walking down the block. Carefully, she opened her door. “Candace, can you come in here?”
Candace looked up and blanched. Apparently Simone looked even worse than she felt. Her receptionist rushed into the office. “Can I help you, Ms. Parker?” she asked.
Simone nodded, wincing when the motion sent shock waves through her skull. “Would you mind grabbing me some chicken soup from the diner?”
“I’d be happy to,” Candace said.
“Let me get my billfold.”
“No worries. We can settle up later. Do you want something to drink? Lemonade? Iced tea?”
Oh, wow. Tea sounded wonderful. “Tea would be great.” Her mouth was so dry. “Hurry, Candace. I don’t think I can—” She stopped dead, nausea rising in her throat. “Oh, damn. I’m going to—”
* * *
It might have been hours or days later when she woke up completely. She had vague memories of an ambulance and several people in white coats. Now she was in her own bed.
When she shifted on the mattress, Hutch’s voice sounded nearby. “Take it easy, Simone. You’re going to be okay.”
“My head hurts,” she groaned, trying to recreate her spotty memory.
“No wonder.” Hutch crouched beside her bed, his smile quizzical. “You whacked it pretty hard on the edge of your desk when you fainted. The ER doc put in three stitches, but there’s no concussion.”
Panicked, she tried to sit up. “The babies?”
“Steady, woman. They’re fine.”
“What happened to me?”
“Hyperemesis gravidarum.”
“Oh, God. Is that as bad as it sounds?”
“Yes and no. You were badly dehydrated, Simone, and disoriented. One of the unlucky women who suffer from severe nausea and vomiting when pregnant. Women with multiples are more prone to it.”
“Well, that’s just peachy,” she muttered.
“Dr. Fetter wanted to admit you, but you pitched a fit and demanded to go home. She only agreed because I promised to stay with you.”
For the first time, Simone realized she was hooked up to an IV. “You did this?”
He looked at her strangely. “Yes. But if you’ve changed your mind, I’ll take you back to the hospital.”
Now that her head was clearer, she did remember most of what he was saying. It didn’t paint her in a good light.
“How did you hear I had passed out? Why were you there with the EMTs? Candace doesn’t even know you.”
“She was trying to call 911 and saw my card on your desk.”
“I knew I should have thrown that away.”
Hutch had the audacity to laugh. When he did, she caught a glimpse of the carefree young doctor she had fallen in love with so many years ago. Heaven help her. With the shadows gone from his eyes—chased away by genuine humor—he was irresistible.
He fiddled with a setting on the monitor. “It will take at least twenty-four hours to get your electrolyte levels balanced again. After that, we’ll have to see if you are able eat or drink at all. Otherwise, you’ll have to get nutrition intravenously.”
“How long will this last?”
“Well...” It was clear he didn’t want to upset her.
“Go ahead, Hutch. I can handle it.”
“Days. Weeks.” He grimaced. “For some it’s all the way till the end. But you’re in the earliest moments of this pregnancy. Your body is adapting to the flood of hormones. With any luck, things will settle down soon.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” she said drily. She watched as he moved around the bedroom. “You can’t stay here. You have a job.”
“I was going to talk to you about that. I have a friend, a nurse, who does in-home care. She’s expensive, but it’s cheaper than being hospitalized and a lot more comfortable.”
“She would stay overnight?”
Hutch rubbed two fingers in the center of his forehead. “No. I would be here when I get off work in the evenings.”
Simone closed her eyes and told herself not to get upset. That wouldn’t be good for the babies. “You know that’s impossible,” she whispered.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hand, the one with the needle taped into it. “My job is to protect high-risk infants. What happened to you is serious, but there’s no reason to take up a hospital bed.”
“What about staying away from each other?”
“You’re all hooked up. How bad could we be?”
The droll comment startled a laugh from her when she could have sworn she didn’t have it in her. “I have friends,” she said. “And parents.”
“Don’t be coy, Simone. I happen to know that Cecelia is newly engaged and pregnant and Naomi flits all over the country. Your parents wouldn’t begin to know how to be nurturing. I’ve met them, remember? I’m your best shot if you want to stay out of the hospital.”
Well, damn. The idea of checking into a hospital for something like this gave her the hives. “You could teach me about the IV,” she said, giving him a hopeful glance.
“Nice try, kiddo. Even Kate Middleton had to stay in the hospital a few nights when she struggled with this condition. Despite the fact that she had castles and servants at her disposal. Count yourself lucky that Dr. Fetter trusts me.”
“She should. You’re her boss.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m sorry Candace dragged you into this.”
He leaned over and brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’m not. You gave everyone a real scare. I’d just as soon be the one keeping an eye on you.”
Four (#u423052c9-dc69-5a61-b438-242e9f64750d)
Hutch kept his easy smile with effort. Never had he imagined seeing Simone in the state she’d been in when she collapsed. Severe dehydration could even affect the heart. When he’d first seen her, he had actually feared for her pregnancy.
Not only that, he had flashed back to losing Beth. Even though he didn’t want a romantic relationship with Simone again, there was no way in hell he was going to let anything happen to her on his watch.
The stubborn woman had to have been in misery. Yet she’d been determined to power through on her own. She looked a little better now, but not much. He estimated that she had already lost six or seven pounds. Her cheekbones stood out sharply, as did her collarbone.
He touched the spot beneath her ear. “They put motion-sickness patches on you in the hospital. I’ll change those out as necessary.”
“Is it safe?” Her fingers moved restlessly, pleating the sheet.
He frowned. “A hell of a lot safer than collapsing from dehydration. You were in a bad way, Simone.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“You hate depending on other people for help, don’t you?”
“I don’t like to take help from you.” Tears welled in her beautiful eyes, making them sparkle.
He sat down again, telling himself he had to be the professional in this situation. “I owe you this much, don’t you think?”
“For what?” She couldn’t quite meet his eyes.
“For taking your advice and going to Africa.” He couldn’t help the fact that the words sounded accusatory. When it had become clear that he and Simone were crazy about each other, he had offered to linger in Royal for a few years until she got her ad agency off the ground. He’d assumed she would jump at the offer. Instead, she had broken up with him. She’d insisted she didn’t want to stand in the way of his doing something so important.
Bitter and disillusioned, he had realized that Simone didn’t love him the way he loved her. While he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her behind, she had cut him loose and bid him a cheerful farewell.
“I did the right thing,” she said stubbornly. “You had a mission to fulfill.”
“And what did you have, Simone?” Suddenly, he felt like a beast for harassing her. She looked fragile enough to shatter. “Forget I said that,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. It’s not important.”
Without warning, a noise from the front of the house had his head jerking up. Surely no one would barge in uninvited. But he had forgotten about Naomi. The style guru/TV star was as much a force of nature as Simone, though in a different package.
Naomi burst into the bedroom, wild-eyed. She barely glanced at Hutch. “Good lord, Simone. What the heck is going on? I just saw you a few days ago. What happened?”
Hutch moved toward the door. “I’ll leave you two ladies alone.”
Simone held up the hand that wasn’t tethered to an IV. “No. Don’t go, Hutch. You might as well both hear this at once.”
Naomi turned to frown at him. “I didn’t know you were back in town. Made yourself at home, didn’t you? I fail to see why you’re in this house. You hurt her enough the first time around. I’m here now. You can leave.”
Simone tried to sit up. “Hush, Naomi. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Ignore her, Hutch. You know how dramatic she can be.”
Naomi’s teeth-clenched smile promised retribution. She sat down on the side of the bed, careful not to jostle Simone. “Fine. What don’t I know?”
Hutch positioned himself at Simone’s elbow. “You don’t have to do this now, Simone. You’re weak and sick.” He worried about her state of mind.
She shot him a look that held a soupçon of her usual fire. “I’m not an invalid.” Reaching for Naomi’s hand, she twined their fingers. “Don’t be mad. I didn’t want to steal Cecelia’s thunder the other night. I’m pregnant, too. And apparently not handling it nearly as well as our newly engaged friend.”
The self-derision on her face hurt Hutch. “It’s not a contest,” he said.
Naomi gaped. “You’re pregnant?” She glared at Hutch.
He held up his hands. “Don’t look at me.”
“Then who?” Naomi seemed genuinely befuddled.
Maybe Simone had been telling the truth about not having a man in her life. That shouldn’t have pleased him so much. Simone tried to sit up again, and again, he shook his head. “Too soon. Stay put.”
“Fine. Anyone ever tell you you worry too much?” She transferred her attention to her shell-shocked friend. “I wanted to have a baby, Naomi. And I didn’t want to wait. So I used a sperm donor.”
“A sperm donor...” Naomi repeated the words slowly.
“Don’t look so stunned,” Simone pleaded. “It’s a perfectly acceptable thing to do.”
“But it’s not something the Simone I know would do.”
Hutch saw Simone’s bottom lip tremble. “That’s enough, Naomi,” he said. “This has been a rough day for her.”
“Sorry,” she groaned. “What’s the matter with her?”
“She’s suffering from extreme morning sickness.”
“I’m right here,” Simone snapped. “And I don’t know why they call it morning sickness. It lasts the whole damn day.”
He and Naomi looked at each other, trying not to laugh. Hutch lifted a shoulder, edging toward the door. “I really do have some phone calls to make.” He looked at Naomi. “Shout if you need me.”
In the kitchen, he prowled restlessly. Neither of the phone calls was urgent, but he had needed some space to clear his head. He already regretted his impulsive decision to take on Simone’s crisis. The odd thing was, she was the one who usually jumped without looking. There was a time when he had admired her joie de vivre and her impulsive spirit.
He’d been the older one, the stick-in-the-mud. He’d often wondered if that was why she broke up with him. Perhaps his overly conscientious approach to life had struck her as boring and pedantic.
It didn’t matter now. If they hadn’t had anything in common five years ago, that was even more true now. Hopefully, her nausea would soon settle down and he could go back to pretending she was just another pregnant woman.
* * *
Simone looked at Naomi. “Help me sit up, please.”
Naomi frowned. “Hutch said that wasn’t a good idea.”
“Are you kidding me? Since when are you in the Troy Hutchinson fan club?”
“I didn’t say I was a fan, but the man’s a brilliant doctor, and you, my girl, look like something out of a zombie movie.”
“Gee, thanks.”
Despite her protests, Naomi stood up and grabbed extra pillows to put behind Simone. “Satisfied?”
Simone closed her eyes. “I’ll be satisfied when I can eat a milk shake and a cheeseburger without puking.”
“Can I get you anything?” Naomi hovered.
“No. Thank you.” Unexpected tears stung her eyes. “I feel so stupid.”
Naomi chuckled. “Well, you should. If anybody was going to knock you up, it should have been that Greek god doctor of yours.”
“He’s not my doctor,” Simone said automatically. “And besides, we’re not anything to each other.”
“Which explains why I found him in bed with you.”
“Don’t be dramatic. He wasn’t in my bed. He was sitting on my bed. There’s a big difference.”
“Not from where I’m standing.”
“For God’s sake, let it go, Naomi. Hutch and I were over a long time ago. And besides, even if I had the slightest interest in rekindling that flame—which I don’t—what man wants to be father to some other guy’s triplets?”
Naomi gaped. The look of total consternation on her face might have been funny if Simone hadn’t felt so wretched. “Triplets?” she said, her eyes round.
“Um, yeah. I guess I forgot to mention that part. I’m having three babies. At least I hope so.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s still early. Too early to know if all the fetuses are viable.”
Naomi sprang to her feet and paced. “How can you be so damned calm? This is huge. What were you thinking, Simone? You own and manage a thriving ad agency. You have no husband. Why on earth would you do something so crazy?”
Sadly, Simone couldn’t tell the whole truth. Not to Naomi or Cecelia, and certainly not to Hutch. “I wanted a baby,” she said stubbornly. “By the time I got in the midst of everything, I began to have my doubts, but I didn’t back out. I should have, I suppose.”
“Ya think?” Naomi seemed more indignant than flat-out angry. Simone understood, really, she did. If the situations had been reversed, surely she would have expressed doubts about Naomi’s decision.
“I screwed up, Naomi. I know that now. But I didn’t know how sick I could get. And besides...”
“Besides, what?”
“I want them,” Simone whispered. “The babies. All of them. Hutch said it wasn’t too late from a medical standpoint to rethink my position, but I could never do that. I started this, and I’ll finish it.”
Naomi pursed her lips. “I hope it doesn’t finish you.”
Hutch returned in time to hear that last comment. He frowned when he saw Simone upright, but he didn’t say anything.
Simone looked at him. “May I have a drink of water, please?”
“It’s up to you. It would be good if you can manage it.”
With both of them watching, Simone didn’t want to make a scene, but she knew she couldn’t avoid drinking indefinitely. There was a pitcher and disposable cups on the bedside table. Hutch poured one glass half-full and offered it to her. She took it from him, wincing. “Bottoms up.”
With her two observers looking on eagle-eyed, she sipped tentatively. At first, the water tasted amazing. Her lips were partially chapped. The cool liquid felt wonderful in her parched throat. But moments later, her stomach cramped sharply. “Hutch!” She panicked.
He was there immediately, holding a small basin as the water came back up and she retched helplessly. Hutch held her hair. Naomi produced a damp cloth for her forehead. Oh, God. If she had ever felt so humiliated and miserable, she couldn’t remember it.
Hutch didn’t wait for permission. He removed the pillows and helped her lie flat again. “Okay now?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to look at either of them. “I’m sorry to drag you both into this.”
Naomi forced a laugh that sounded almost natural. “C’mon, girl. We’ve been through a lot of rough patches together over the years. Cecelia and I will help. And you’re not poor. That’s a plus.”
Even Hutch thought that was funny, though he quickly turned his chuckle into a cough. It was probably not acceptable bedside manner to make jokes at the patient’s expense.
“Hilarious.” Suddenly, it struck her. “Well, crud. I’ll never fit into a slinky bridesmaid dress.”
Even Naomi didn’t have the chutzpah to pretend that wasn’t true. But she tried to put a spin on it. “Maybe they’ll elope. You never know.”
Hutch spoke up, for the first time sounding more like a doctor than an interested party. “I’m glad you came by, Naomi. I’ll keep you posted if anything changes. Simone needs to rest now.”
Simone wanted to argue that he was being high-handed, but it was the truth. “I should tell Cecelia the news in person,” she said.
“No worries.” Naomi gathered up her car keys and cell phone. “I’ll take care of it. She’ll understand.”
That wasn’t the problem. No one was going to understand unless Simone’s original motive was revealed. Then she was in big trouble. “Thank you, Naomi.”
“Anything for a friend.” With a wave and a smile, she was gone.
In the silence that followed Naomi’s departure, Simone tried to pretend Hutch had left, as well. Unfortunately, he was impossible to ignore.
Simone loved her bedroom, as a rule. She had always found it soothing with its color scheme of pale lemon yellow and navy. It wasn’t too girly.
Today, though, with Hutch in residence, the charming space felt claustrophobic. “How long do I have to have the IV?”
“Until you can take nourishment of some kind. I’ll show you how to unhook and stop the monitor from beeping when you need to go to the bathroom. You’ll have to promise me, though, that you’ll hold on to something and sit down the moment you feel dizzy. Otherwise, I’m going in there with you.”
“Over my dead body.” Her whole body flushed.
He didn’t bother arguing that one.
“You look tired,” she said impulsively.
Hutch half turned, his striking face in profile. “It’s been a tough day,” he said.
“Surely not as tough as Sudan.”
“Tough in a different way. You need to sleep now, Simone.”
“It’s only seven o’clock. Have you eaten?”
“I’ll get something later.”
“Go now,” she urged. “I swear I won’t move until you get back.”
He shook his head, his expression wry. “I’m not sure I trust you. For the next seventy-two hours, you’re my responsibility.”
“What am I supposed to do if I can’t eat or drink or get out of bed?”
“How about a movie?”
“Will you watch it with me?”
His dark gaze made her shiver, despite her weakened state. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and dropped his chin to his chest. After a moment, he lifted his shoulders and let them fall, then looked at her with a carefully blank expression. “If that’s what you want. I’ll go make myself a sandwich. Here’s the remote. You pick something out and I’ll be back shortly.”
She channel surfed halfheartedly, feeling almost normal for the moment. The pregnancy didn’t seem entirely real. Was that odd? Shouldn’t she feel a rush of maternal devotion? She did have a connection already. She knew life was growing in her womb even now. But those little blips on the screen didn’t have faces and personalities. What if they grew up to be like her?
Eventually, she found a Tom Hanks romantic comedy from the ’80s in the on-demand section. That would do the trick. She and Hutch could make fun of the sappy dialogue. At least that’s what she told herself. Never in a million years would she let him know how much she loved that story.
When he came back from the kitchen, he had his hands full. He stopped in the doorway as if expecting to find her flouting his orders. She smiled innocently. “I’ve been good as gold.”
“That’ll be the day.”
Her bed was a king, so when Hutch parked himself on the opposite side, there was an entire stretch of mattress protecting her virtue. Not that it mattered. Who was she kidding? She’d seen herself in the mirror.
Hutch got comfortable and began to wolf down his meal. Suddenly he looked at her in dismay. “Will the smell bother you? I can eat in the kitchen.”
“No. I’m fine. If you were eating Thai food, it might be different. That ham sandwich is nausea neutral.”
She started the movie, trying not to notice the way Hutch seemed entirely comfortable in her bed. When they had been a couple, she had lived in an upscale apartment downtown, as had Hutch. They’d split their time between locations, some nights in his bed, some nights in hers.
The sex had been incredible, but even more than that was the feeling of rightness... She didn’t know how else to explain it. In the beginning, they had talked for hours. She learned that Hutch decided to go into medicine after an older cousin had a difficult pregnancy when he was in high school. The mother and baby both died. Thus, maternal-fetal medicine became his focus when it was time to specialize.
Simone had been out of college barely a year when she met Hutch. She’d worked for a high-end clothing store as a buyer. Marketing was her passion, though, and she’d spent many hours telling Hutch about her intent to open an advertising agency of her own.
Aside from that, they had, of course, talked about their families. Simone was an only child. Hutch had a younger brother who was studying abroad and hoped to go into the diplomatic corps.
Hutch’s parents were warm and nurturing, whereas Simone’s were strict and cold. Though it was a sad cliché, her father had wanted a boy. But complications during her mother’s pregnancy meant no more children after Simone. No matter how hard Simone tried, she never seemed to measure up to a list of invisible standards.
Perhaps that was why she reveled in Hutch’s attention. Not that she saw him as a father figure. Far from it. The age difference was too narrow for that. But when she spoke, he took her seriously. It was heady stuff.
In her peripheral vision, she could see that Hutch’s attention was focused on the television. Was he really engrossed in the movie? She doubted it. More likely, he was thinking about important doctor stuff.
Unlike Simone’s endeavors, Hutch’s work actually involved life-and-death situations. She teased him about being a saint, but she had never met another man who impressed her so deeply with his work ethic and his compassion.
If he had stayed, they might have ended up married, and Hutch’s involvement with DWB might never have materialized. In Simone’s twenty-eight years, many people in her life had characterized her as self-centered. Sadly, that had probably been true at one time. But at least she had the comfort of knowing that in this instance she had done the right thing.
She had loved Hutch madly, deeply, desperately...but she had let him go.
When the memories stung too sharply, she hit the mute button on the remote and silenced the TV. “I’ve seen this one a dozen times,” she said. “What I’d really like is for you to tell me about Bethany. And about Sudan.”
Five (#u423052c9-dc69-5a61-b438-242e9f64750d)
Hutch froze. He’d been a million miles away. Simone’s question caused him to flinch inwardly. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of an excuse to deflect it quickly enough.
“Why?” he asked bluntly.
Simone turned on her side and tucked her hands beneath her cheek. She was drowsy. He could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes. “You were gone for a long time. Two tours of service. Why didn’t you come home after the first one?”
It was a logical question. That had been the assumption all along. Still, when the time came, the thought of returning to Royal and confronting Simone had seemed far more dangerous than anything he would face abroad. So he had stayed.
A month later, he’d met Bethany.
Sensing that Simone wouldn’t be dissuaded, he steeled himself for the pain and remorse that choked him when he allowed himself to remember. “I was introduced to Bethany just as I signed up for a second rotation. All the medical staff I had worked with were headed home. Bethany was one of the newbies.”
“A nurse?”
“No. A doctor. A pediatrician. Bethany was the daughter of medical missionaries in Central America. She had never lived in the United States full-time until she went to college and med school. She adored children. Wanted five or six of her own one day. In the meantime, her goal was to save as many as she could in Sudan, specifically West Darfur, the state where we were stationed.”
“Admirable.”
“You would have liked her, I think. She was only five foot one, but somehow you never noticed that about her, because her personality was so compelling. She was passionate about her work and truly believed she was fulfilling her destiny.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/janice-maynard/triplets-for-the-texan/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.