Reunited With His Runaway Bride
Robin Gianna
Brought back together by a babyIt broke Dr Bree Donovan’s heart to end things with family-oriented surgeon Sean Latham but marriage and kids are not for her. Only now Sean is asking her to help care for his newborn nephew while his sister is in hospital, and Bree can’t say no.It’s temporary but as Bree experiences how rewarding family life can be—and gives in to the passion she and Sean always shared—is it possible to believe that this time round, they could really have it all?
Brought back together by a baby
It broke Dr. Bree Donovan’s heart to end things with family-orientated surgeon Sean Latham, but marriage and kids are not for her. Only, now Sean is asking her to help care for his newborn nephew while his sister is in hospital, and Bree can’t say no.
It’s temporary, but as Bree experiences how rewarding family life can be—and gives in to the passion she and Sean have always shared—is it possible for her to believe that this time around they really could have it all?
“What else hurts?”
“I’m not going to say everything, even though it does,” she said softly.
The instant vision of smoothing fragrant oil all over her naked body robbed him of breath. Sean lifted his head, and the eyes that met his seemed to have seen exactly the same vision.
They were both remembering well the essential-oil massages they’d shared that hadn’t had a thing to do with homeopathic therapy.
He gritted his teeth, fighting down the insistent hot desire for her surging through his blood. Not only was Bree in pain, the last thing either of them needed was to fall into bed, bringing reminders of all they’d shared together before it had ended. Ripping up old wounds that had barely started to heal as it was. Brief sexual pleasure—which at that moment he wanted with her more than he could remember wanting anything in his life—would be pointless and beyond a bad idea. She would be moving soon, and he still hadn’t figured out how he was going to get on with his life without her.
Dear Reader (#ulink_a0f58f58-2448-5539-894d-b757defc33fd),
I realised I’d never had an infant featured in one of my stories, only young children, and decided I wanted that for my next book. The first idea that came to me was this version of the ‘baby on the doorstep’ theme, and I decided to go with it!
Bree and Sean broke their engagement six months ago because it became painfully clear that there are too many differences between them—number one being that he wants children and she doesn’t. When a car accident seriously injures Sean’s nine-monthspregnant sister, who is also Bree’s good friend, they’re unavoidably thrown together to care for the healthy newborn. Sean and Bree have zero experience with infants, and I had fun remembering a few things new parents go through as they learn how to cope with a tiny human arriving in their lives.
Sean and Bree expect to be stuck spending time together just briefly, until his mother arrives to take over baby duty. But it ends up being days longer, and it’s not easy fighting the attraction still sizzling between them. So many good memories are there, too, despite the bad ones that keep surfacing. Ultimately they both figure out what is most important to them, but it isn’t easy!
I love to hear from readers! You can find me at my website, RobinGianna.com (http://www.robingianna.com), on Facebook, and on Twitter, @Robin_Gianna (https://twitter.com/robin_gianna). I hope you enjoy the story.
Robin xoxo
Reunited With His Runaway Bride
Robin Gianna
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Sibling relationships are unique and special, and I’d like to dedicate this book to my brother’s memory. Mark, I have a feeling a few of the stars in the sky are really you, lighting the firecrackers you loved to throw at me while the other angels laugh at your jokes. I miss you.
Praise for Robin Gianna (#ulink_68df053f-272c-5fd8-b9ee-e5c804117167)
‘Yet another splendid read from the author...a romance which should not be missed by everyone who loves medical romance.’
—Harlequin Junkie on It Happened in Paris...
Contents
Cover (#uffaabead-9118-50d5-a2e5-28776daba8aa)
Back Cover Text (#uae4ad25e-0695-5449-a51c-24a83552ef79)
Introduction (#u9b3a442b-88c6-551c-953c-c9753e8b8853)
Dear Reader (#u944658b4-1a37-5bec-8968-b95ff6192f2c)
Title Page (#u68f104f7-fbc0-5735-9d2b-3de7c474dced)
Dedication (#udc00d428-3b8a-5252-ad47-82521606c3ed)
Praise for Robin Gianna (#u8d4afb3c-e993-5028-bcc5-777bc34c4804)
CHAPTER ONE (#u7059147c-51ed-57a5-84ee-085c41ad2870)
CHAPTER TWO (#u5044d0d9-0e52-5601-86fe-68ecf698774a)
CHAPTER THREE (#u27317dd9-34bb-56ec-ac96-175f773333b2)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
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)
EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_1648a0eb-febf-54f2-a5e2-0b921b92d17b)
“YOU KNOW, THAT tummy of yours isn’t what you can call a ‘baby bump’ anymore. More like a baby beach ball,” Bree Donovan teased. She glanced at her friend Emma, who was settling herself in the passenger seat of her car. “Good thing he didn’t decide to pop out while you were flying over the mountains. Giving birth on a plane would be a little stressful, don’t you think?”
Bree had to at least lightly chide her friend for waiting to travel until she was thirty-seven weeks along in her pregnancy, after she’d told Emma more than once she shouldn’t. Not that the woman ever listened to advice, and in fact usually did the opposite of anything suggested to her.
“I know you wanted me to come sooner, but I wasn’t ready to deal with Sean yet,” Emma said with a grimace. “Lecturing me and fussing over me like I’m still a little kid instead of twenty-nine years old. Besides, the reason I look like I swallowed a volleyball is because the baby is still high and happy, with no intention of coming soon, I’m told.”
And even if she hadn’t been sure of that, free-spirited Emma probably wouldn’t have worried about it anyway, would she? Bree would have smiled, remembering the way Sean alternately rebuked then pampered his sister, if it didn’t make her heart hurt thinking about Sean at all.
Though not thinking about him had become impossible with Emma coming back to San Diego for a while.
The ache in her chest was joined by self-mockery. Who was she kidding? It didn’t matter that she and Sean had broken up six miserable months ago—he was on her mind way too often, anyway. It also didn’t matter that their relationship had started to list toward rocky shore shortly after their engagement, showing how wrong she’d been during those first starry-eyed months with him. Obvious, important differences had wedged between them, slowly shaking the foundation of what had seemed like perfection together. How that had happened was something she still couldn’t figure out—didn’t falling in love at nearly first sight mean it was meant to be?
The blinding happiness she’d felt then had convinced her it did. And was blinding the right word, or what? She’d certainly chosen not to open her eyes to all the reasons things could never work out between the two of them until after he’d put a ring on her finger, making their breakup all that much harder for both of them.
“Oh, and speaking of Sean,” Emma said, emphasizing her brother’s name in a way that had Bree bracing herself for what might be coming next, “I wanted to confess something.”
“Confess what?”
“Mom told me he’s been gloomy and restless ever since you two broke up. So I set him up with a dating service to help him move on. Just so you know, in case you see him on a date.”
“You did what?” Bree’s mouth fell open and she stared at her friend.
“You don’t mind, do you?” Emma raised her eyebrows, the picture of surprised innocence. “I’m just trying to help him find someone better suited to him, and he works so much, he doesn’t have time to meet women. I mean, you’re the one who broke the engagement. And are ready to move to Hawaii. Right?”
Cold, shocked dismay shot through Bree at Emma’s statement. Why, she didn’t know. She shouldn’t care one bit. A rational woman wouldn’t. It was over between them for a lot of good reasons, and she was moving on, literally and figuratively.
“Of course I don’t mind.” And she didn’t. And maybe her nose was growing, because the thought of seeing Sean with another woman on his arm, thinking of him sleeping with someone else, made her feel sick to her stomach.
“I figured you’d want him to move on,” Emma said with a nod. “You probably know how close he and Dad were. When Dad was so sick in hospice, he told Sean one of the things he hated most about being sick was that he wouldn’t get to see our kids when we had them, and told both of us he knew we’d be great parents. Made Sean promise to live his own life to the fullest, the way he had. It...it makes me really sad, you know?”
“I’m sorry.” Bree reached to squeeze Emma’s knee. “That has to feel horrible, with your little one on the way now.”
“It breaks my heart that my baby’s never going to know his grandpa. And after Dad died, Sean was even more determined to be the man Dad raised him to be.” Emma’s eyes filled with tears. “Wants to be just like him, you know? A good doctor, a loving husband and the world’s best father.”
Bree’s throat closed, and she couldn’t think of a thing to say in response. How much Sean wanted a family of his own had become painfully, fatally clear, but she hadn’t realized until this moment how much that desire was tied up with his love for his dad, and his mother, too. Bree might not know anything about having the world’s best father, but she did know with certainty that Sean would be amazing at all those things, even though she couldn’t be a part of it. “I wish I’d known your dad.”
“Me, too. He was special.” A deep sigh left Emma’s chest. “So that’s part of the reason Sean was so happy to think he was going to be settling down with you and eventually having a family. Since that didn’t...turn out so well, I want to help him find that. Be happy again. I’m not sure he’s gone on any dates yet, so I’m going to be nagging him about it.”
Bree wanted to say, Well, thanks a lot for that, you traitor, but knew that would sound ridiculous and awful, under the circumstances.
She drew a long, slow breath. There didn’t seem to be much else to say on that depressing subject, and she forced a teasing tone to change it. “Think that volleyball belly will make you feel right at home on the beach?” She knew the game had been one of Emma’s favorite pastimes and wanted to steer the conversation somewhere light, away from distressing thoughts of Emma’s dad, and of Sean and their spectacular breakup. Away from visions of him with other women that dredged up memories and emotions better left deeply buried.
“Yeah. Except I’ll be the proverbial beached whale on the sidelines, not a player,” Emma said, smiling again. “Don’t tell Sean, but I admit being home always makes me feel good. It’ll help me get back into shape in no time. With the bike path on the bay right outside Sean’s place and not too far from Mom’s, I’ll be able to easily run with a stroller.”
Bree opened her mouth to say she’d love to join her, then shut it again. It seemed impossible that she’d be moving in just over a week, and she couldn’t deny that a part of her kept thinking about how things might have been different.
Over and done with. In the past, and her new job would be a step up. Right? It would.
Maybe her expression was saying something she didn’t want it to, because Emma tipped her head. “You really have to move to Honolulu? I mean, now? I wish you could be here when the baby’s born.”
“I wish I could be, too. But they need me to start soon because an ER doc is leaving. And it’s a good opportunity.”
“Not sure I believe it could be any better than here.”
“It’s a university Level One Trauma hospital,” Bree said. “With a chance to move into the emergency department director’s position at some point. Plus you know it’s important to me to take part in the bigger surf competitions. Living in Hawaii will make that easier.”
“Hmm. I suppose. Though you managed to do that living in San Diego.” Emma raised one eyebrow. “Truth. Are you moving because of Sean?”
“Of course not. We found out we’re not right for one another before we made the mistake of making it permanent. It’s a good thing.” Not that it had felt very good at the time, but she’d managed to move on. Pretty much.
“And all those reasons you came up with for it not working out between you two are a crock, if you ask me. So he likes to be in charge and is used to taking care of people, and you don’t need taking care of. So, what? Your independence is one of the things he loved about you, even if he wouldn’t admit it.”
“I don’t think so. It was one of the things about me that bugged him.”
“Wrong, and I know so.” Emma folded her arms across her chest, and Bree could feel her staring hard at her. “Another thing Dad said to Sean before he died? He asked him to take care of me and Mom. Yeah, that’s sexist, but he loved us and worried how it would be without him. And Sean was about as rock solid a support as a person can be for us, even when he got aggravated with me. Who in their right mind doesn’t want a guy who cares about you that way?”
“You, for one.” Bree stared in disbelief before turning back to the road. “You’ve bitterly complained about Sean wanting to take care of you, badgering you instead of letting you live your life the way you want to.”
“He’s my brother, not my boyfriend. So maybe he did a little too much trying to take Dad’s place, but, even when it made me mad, I always knew it was because he loves me. There’s such a thing as being independent to a fault, you know.” Her hand waved around dismissively. “And part of the breakup being because you wanted to run off and elope when he wanted a big wedding with all our extended family here, and all the cousins and kids dancing and everyone having fun? Plain stupid. Don’t tell me you two couldn’t have figured out a way around that.”
“You’re forgetting even bigger things,” Bree said. Why were they hashing over all this again? Probably because she and Emma hadn’t talked about it since she and Sean had first broken up, and one more round of torture was inevitable. “I wanted a no-care condo so we could be free to go to surf competitions and all the other traveling I need to do, and he wanted a bigger house with a yard, a cat and a dog tying us down.”
And kids. The biggest thing of all. The one thing there was no way to compromise about.
“I know being independent is important to you. I get that having pets and children would make that harder. But maybe as time went on, you’d feel differently. Haven’t I had to do things differently than I thought? Move back home for a while, when I never thought I’d do that?” Her hands cupped her belly in a gesture filled with tenderness. “My baby wasn’t planned,” she said softly. “But I can tell you I’d do anything for him, and he’s not even here yet. So tell me why you’re so sure you don’t want kids.”
“Let’s just say my family dynamics and relationships with my parents convinced me.” It was past time to change the subject, but before she could say anything more, a monstrous delivery truck moved into her peripheral vision, running through the red light into the intersection, straight toward Emma’s side of the car.
“Hang on!” she yelled, her heart doing triple time as she swerved into what little space seemed free. Inches between her lane and the one filled with oncoming traffic. Got half a car length between them and the truck. Saw it bearing down on them, behind Emma now. But not far enough. In what seemed like bizarrely slow motion, she watched it slam into the back-seat door with a bone-jarring impact. Shoved them into the next lane of cars with another deafening screech of metal.
Emma’s screams tore through Bree’s very soul. Then it was dark.
* * *
“Which room? Is it ready?” Bree ran through the ambulance entry of the ER, hanging on to the gurney carrying Emma that was being steered by two of the EMTs who’d responded to the accident. Clutching the bar like a lifeline, as though if she just held on tight enough, Emma would be okay.
“Which room?” she repeated hoarsely. Bree’s throat felt so dry and tight she was surprised she’d managed to get a single word out, but even one second of time lost might be too much.
“Trauma Two!” a nurse shouted back.
Bree pivoted that direction along with the gurney, using her free hand to swipe at the blood dripping into her eye. She scrubbed her hand down the side of what had been a new blue dress, but her clothes and her own injuries were last on her list of things to care about. There was no doubt Emma had suffered some serious injuries, and being conscious and lucid now didn’t mean that couldn’t change in a single heartbeat.
As the gurney swung into Trauma Two, she could see Dr. Kurz was already there, gowned and waiting for his patient, and she was beyond thankful for that. “Okay, Emma,” she said, letting go of the railing to reach for her friend’s hand. “We’re here now and everybody’s ready to help you.”
“Bree?” Emma’s dark eyes, filled with fear, stared up at her from the gurney, her voice a muffled whisper through her oxygen mask. “It hurts. It...it hurts so much.”
“I know, sweetie. Hang in there,” she said, shoving down the fear that had filled her throat the second she’d awakened from the knock on her head to see Emma trapped and unconscious. She swallowed hard. Was there something, anything, Bree could have done to prevent the accident?
She lifted a shaking hand to wipe away the blood trickling into her eye again. Please, please let them be okay.
The medics, as breathless as Bree, started in with their rapid-fire report to everyone in the room. “Twenty-nine-year-old, thirty-seven weeks pregnant. Vehicle struck by a truck, passenger side, pushing vehicle into oncoming traffic. Extensive damage to multiple vehicles. Forty-five-minute extraction, GCS fifteen, last heart rate one thirty-five, BP eighty over fifty.”
Bree blinked fiercely as she listened. Remembered. The impact had nearly flipped Bree’s car as it skidded into a sedan coming the opposite direction. The horrific shriek of tearing, crumpling metal. Her own door caving in, knocking her head against the window as the air bag exploded into her face, briefly blinding her as she heard Emma’s screams just before Bree blacked out for a moment. Awakening to turn, stunned and disoriented. Seeing Emma’s body terrifyingly still and bleeding.
“Were you the driver of the car, Dr. Donovan?” Kurz asked, looking at her more closely than she wished he would.
“Yes.” She should have known he’d figure that out, but her own minor injuries weren’t an issue at the moment, and she was more than capable of helping the team. “But I’m fine.”
Kurz gave her a nod. “Let’s get the patient moved over.”
Hearing the senior critical care doc’s calm, commanding voice helped her focus as she watched four pairs of hands lift the board Emma was strapped to, sliding her onto the trauma bed. Bree took her place at Emma’s right as the team cut away her clothes.
“That’s about the only top that fits me now,” Emma gasped through her oxygen mask.
“I’m sorry, but we have to,” she soothed, swallowing hard. As though her blouse mattered one iota under the circumstances. She stroked Emma’s hair then reached to squeeze her hand. Could she hope it was a good sign Emma had even thought about it? “I’ll get you another just as pretty, I promise.”
In mere seconds, the team had Emma set up with blood-pressure cuff, IV, and cardiac leads to the monitor as the surgical resident examined every inch of her, and Bree was so thankful again that they weren’t in that smashed car anymore, or the ambulance, as good as the EMTs had been, but finally here, getting Emma the help she needed.
“Tell us where you’re hurting,” Kurz said as the X-ray tech got ready to shoot films.
“My chest, my stomach.” Emma moaned. “My arm and leg. My baby—oh, please make sure my baby—”
“I promise everyone’s going to take good care of the baby, Emma,” Bree managed to say. Question was, would it be too late? “Let’s get a monitor on him, check how he’s doing.”
A nurse got the monitor on Emma’s belly. The infant’s heartbeat showed up strong and steady, and relief made Bree’s knees so wobbly, she gripped the side of the bed to hold herself up. Whether he was ready or not, baby had to come into the world soon, in case he or Emma took a turn for the worse.
It took every ounce of restraint Bree could muster to just stand there and watch the team work instead of assisting in some way. But right now, she had to remember her training as an ER physician who was used to trauma just like this and let the team do their job. Pretend the woman on this bed wasn’t her close friend. Wasn’t the sister of the man she’d been in love with not so long ago, no matter how unsuited they’d proved to be for one another.
Thinking of him and how devastated he’d be by this accident ratcheted her adrenaline even higher. Had her chest tightening at the thought that he might blame Bree, and maybe she deserved it. “Anyone know if Dr. Sean Latham is in the hospital? This is his sister. He needs to be notified right away.”
Kurz’s attention swung to her in surprise before he barked more orders.
Bree closed her eyes, thinking of Sean hearing the overhead paging him to Trauma Two. He’d be so unprepared for what he was about to walk into. Sean got frustrated with Emma sometimes, but he adored his little sister.
Bree glanced at Emma’s monitor and her stomach lurched. “Heart rate’s one-sixty.”
“Blood pressure’s dropping, too,” a nurse said.
Kurz had his stethoscope and fingers on Emma’s poor, bruised chest. “Hemothorax. Hold on X-ray. We need the chest tube tray—you got this?” he asked the surgical resident.
Bree didn’t like the shaky affirmative of the resident’s answer, and anxiety rose in her own chest as she prayed the resident had the confidence and experience to get the tube inserted into Emma’s lung fast. Steadily stroking Emma’s hair, she couldn’t say for sure if she was trying to calm Emma or herself.
Kurz continued barking orders, sending techs and nurses scurrying. “I want Anesthesia down here now, and why the hell isn’t OB here yet? And get the NICU team.”
“Bree, what’s happening? NICU team?” Emma’s eyes were wide and scared, and Bree took her hand and squeezed it gently.
“Got to get you fixed up and deliver the baby. You’re going to meet your little guy today. Can you believe it?” Somehow, she managed to keep her tone light. “You still going to go with the name you told me you’d decided on?”
“What? I’m not ready! I—”
“We’re going to help you be ready. It’s going to be okay.”
“I... Bree,” Emma whispered, her words slurring. “I feel...funny. It’s... Is it getting dark? Where...?”
Just like that, Bree saw her eyes close, her head go limp and her skin turn as white as pure, pearly beach sand.
“Emma!” Oh, no. Please, no. “Emma, stay with me!” Her shouts were punctuated by the cardiac monitor alarm, heart rate forty, thirty, fifteen, then asystole. Flat line. The sight of that neon line felt like a sharp knife blade slicing right through Bree’s heart as the screech of the monitor filled her ears. Air didn’t seem to be getting to her lungs. Watching hands pumping on Emma’s chest, hearing Kurz’s voice demanding Epi and oxygen, felt utterly surreal.
“What the...?”
Bree whirled. Sean. Standing there in the doorway, staring at his sister in shock.
“Pulmonary injury. Right hemothorax.” It was hard to choke out the words, and the next were even harder. “Coded twenty seconds ago.”
“About to place a chest tube,” Kurz said as he worked. “We’re going to OR Three. When we can get her there.”
Before one more second ticked by, Sean moved into action. He shouldered the surgery resident aside to get the tube placed as quickly and efficiently as possible. Immediately the blood began to flow, releasing the pressure on her lungs and heart.
Bree watched him secure the tube to the chest wall when the startling beep of the cardiac monitor cut through the fog in her brain. Emma’s heart’s back! She’s back! But each beat was so far apart. Slow. Too slow. She must have some other serious injury. Needed more blood circulating. Needed for her heart to pump harder. Needed it for both her and her baby.
Bree knew what had to be done and drew on reserved strength to get the words out. “We have to take the baby.”
“Not yet,” Sean said, a tortured fierceness on his face she’d seen only once before—the day they’d broken up. “Is OB on the way? We can wait till then.”
“We can’t wait. We have to do it now or we’ll lose both of them.” She hated that her last words came out in a near sob. How emotional. How unprofessional. But Emma was her friend, and for a split second Bree had seen the overwhelming love in her eyes as she’d cupped her belly, so happy to soon be holding her baby in her arms. If they couldn’t save Emma, they could at least save one life. Bring this precious baby, a part of her, into the world.
“A few more minutes. Emma’s got a strong heart. She—”
“Dr. Donovan is right,” Kurz said. “You take over chest compressions while we do a crash and burn C-section to get the baby.”
“I’ll do the prep and assist,” Bree said as she snapped on gloves. For Emma. For Sean. For the baby who might never know his mother.
Kurz nodded and Sean opened his mouth to argue more, but the look on Kurz’s face was clear, and, as he was senior ED doc running the code, the call was his to make. Wordlessly, Sean took over compressions, rhythmically pushing on his sister’s chest. As she saw the mix of determination and anguish on his face, Bree’s heart cracked.
“You ready?” Kurz asked Bree as she quickly swabbed Emma’s belly with antiseptic.
“Ready.” It wasn’t true, she wasn’t ready for them to bring this baby into the world without his mother, but it had to be done. Saving this child was at least one thing she could do to try to make up in some tiny way for driving her car into harm’s way.
Barely aware of a different nurse rolling a warming cart next to her, Bree handed Kurz the scalpel and watched as he made a full, midline incision as fast as he could. They delivered the baby and suddenly the NICU team was right there, swooping in to grab the baby up, leaving Kurz to refocus on Emma. Numb, Bree kept glancing over to watch them give the infant chest compressions and oxygen before rubbing him all over to stimulate him. Surreal that, at the very same time, Sean and the team were insistently working on the baby’s mother in nearly the same way.
It seemed to go on so long with no response at all from the tiny boy, she started to lose hope. She glanced up at Sean, who was still doing strong, unrelenting chest compressions on his sister. Emma’s heart rate had dropped to barely a blip on the screen. But Sean was still determined. Still believing.
Losing both of them would take a terrible toll on the man so close and connected to his family. Hadn’t they already lost the father they’d dearly loved? She tried to swallow down the deep pain choking her when she thought she heard a weak cry that sent her attention flying to the NICU team and the baby. Her heart lifted, soared, when his cries strengthened. His deep purple color lightened and slowly pinked up.
Her gaze moved back to Sean, who was looking at the baby while still performing steady chest compressions. Awe slid across his face, mingling with that fierceness as their eyes met. Her throat closed when, even in the midst of his intense work trying to resuscitate Emma, he gave Bree a quick, nodding salute.
Bittersweet emotion tangled around her heart as the team placed the infant in the warming cart and took off with him, doubtless heading to the NICU to be stabilized and evaluated. Tears stung Bree’s eyes as they met Sean’s, and she prayed again that the baby would be okay. That Emma would still, somehow, survive. That she’d be here to hold her infant son in her arms.
* * *
Seeing Bree’s beautiful green eyes fill with tears made Sean somehow even more determined to save his sister’s life. As though he weren’t already giving it everything he had in him to make that happen.
His mother had already been through too much tragedy. And if Emma died? He knew that blow would practically kill his mom, too. And not only did Emma have a lot of living yet to do and a child to raise, he was not going to have Bree feeling some kind of lifelong guilt because the two of them had obviously been in that car crash together. Most likely she’d been driving, but she was so good behind the wheel, he knew it couldn’t have been her fault.
For all those reasons, his sister was going to live. That was all there was to it.
“Sean.” Kurz reached to touch his shoulder, and he knew what was coming. “I’ll take over.”
“No. Keep up with the epinephrine and blood transfusion for another minute. I’m not being crazy. I’m going to make this happen. She—”
“Sean.” Bree’s tone of voice was completely different than Kurz’s had been. Held a tentative, then rising excitement. “Sean, you did it! Heart rate’s...heart rate is rising to...eighty!”
He glanced at the monitor. What he saw there nearly made him fall over, as though he could feel the world slowly turning on its axis. Emma’s heart was in normal sinus rhythm, etched on the screen in steady, perfect, neon green spikes. For real.
His whole body started to shake. “Notify the other surgeon on call and any GYN available,” he somehow managed to croak out. “Get her to the OR to figure out what all’s going on.”
Everyone moved into action. Sean stood there motionless, because at that moment moving a single muscle felt impossible. He watched them roll his sister from the room, the terrifying details of her bruised and battered body seared into his brain. He looked down at his hands, Emma’s blood still covering them from when he’d inserted the tube, and didn’t want to think about how close he’d come to losing her.
How he still might.
Somehow, he moved toward the sink, feeling as if every bit of support in his legs had disappeared. Kurz must have realized he didn’t feel like talking. Just clasped his shoulder in a tight grip for a lingering moment before he left the room. A smaller hand pressed against his back, and he didn’t have to turn to know it was Bree.
For a lot of reasons, he didn’t want to talk to her, either. The adrenaline—and, yes, the terror—of the past twenty minutes was leaching from his body pretty fast, leaving behind a mental and emotional shakiness and upheaval he didn’t want to admit to, or show, to anyone. Least of all her, the woman who’d left him with plenty of the same kinds of disturbing feelings to deal with for the past six months.
“Tough day,” Bree whispered.
Tough? The way she said the word had him realizing how tough it must have been for her, too. In the middle of the crisis, he hadn’t been able to process that. Tough to be in what must have been one horrific crash. Tough to go through whatever had happened at the scene after. Tough to see Emma code, and, despite all that, step up and help bring her baby into the world without a second of hesitation.
Iciness crept through his veins as the full reality hit him in the gut, knocking what wind he had left right out again. Bree had been in that car, too. Tough? The word didn’t exist that could describe how he’d have felt if Bree had been seriously injured in that accident as well. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t a part of his life anymore. Then as soon as that thought came, he knew that was only partly true.
It mattered because she’d be a part of him forever.
He turned, and her soft hand moved to his arm. He rested his palm on top of it, and that simple connection somehow soothed the raw chaos burning in his chest.
“Even tougher day for you, I’m guessing. You okay?”
“Okay. I’m...I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry?” Was she blaming herself after all?
“I was driving. It technically wasn’t my fault, but...you know. I have to wonder if I could have prevented it somehow.”
“No, you don’t. Because I’m not wondering, and I’m sure Emma isn’t either. You may be a hellion on wheels, but you’re a damned good hellion. Always beyond alert behind the wheel, and I’ve never once seen you cross the safety line.”
“Thank you. I think.” A tiny, wobbly smile touched her lips, despite the tears swimming in her eyes. “Obviously, we both know Emma’s not out of the woods yet. But she sure showed she’s one resilient woman, didn’t she?”
“Yeah.” They hadn’t even learned, yet, the full extent of her injuries. Who knew what it would take for her to recover? “But somehow, I know she’s going to be all right. Even if that sounds stupid.” Maybe it was some mysterious, brother/sister connection, but from the second he’d tried to bring her back, he’d known it wasn’t over. Known with utter certainty that he’d get to see her again. A little like he’d known when their dad had finally given in to the cancer he’d fought for so long.
“Doesn’t sound stupid. I may not have a sibling, but I’ve heard plenty of stories. There seems to be some sort of ESP about one another.” The green eyes staring into his were deeply serious. Questioning. Hopeful. “I don’t suppose that ESP extends to the baby?”
“No gut feeling about the baby, unfortunately.” A baby he’d been upset with Emma about, wondering how his little sister had gotten herself pregnant without a husband, and even angrier that she stubbornly refused to say who the father was. But the deep, wrenching grief he’d felt when he’d first seen the baby, blue and seemingly lifeless in Bree’s remarkably steady hands when she’d delivered him, had made him realize with a shock that he already felt a connection to the little guy in spite of all that.
Which had him wondering about the same question he’d asked a hundred times. How was it possible that Bree didn’t want that kind of connection someday with a child of her own?
Everything in him seemed to squeeze until he couldn’t breathe. Since he didn’t know how to manage the band of emotions strangling him, he forced himself to ease away from Bree, not wanting to think about all that. About her relationship with Emma, about how and why his life and Bree’s had gotten tangled up then ripped apart. About the day his sister had introduced her freshman dormitory roommate to him, insisting they should meet after Bree had moved to San Diego to work in the same hospital he did.
His first sight of her was still branded into his brain. He knew it would be branded there forever.
She’d stood silhouetted in his doorway wearing a pale yellow sundress. Tall and proud, lean and fit. Backlit by the bright, Southern California sunshine, a confident smile tipping the corners of her beautiful lips. Her lively, intelligent eyes had met his and held—eyes that were such a mesmerizing sea green he’d almost forgotten how to breathe. Her thick, shining hair, a color somewhere between golden honey and liquid fire, had skimmed her tanned, bare shoulders, and he’d had to stop himself from reaching out to see which was softer—those silken strands or her smooth skin.
He’d never believed in love at first sight. Who did something so stupid as that? Who let themselves fall in love because of hormones or lust or chemistry, and not because that woman and you were truly compatible? Not concerned with whether or not they shared a mutual vision of the future? Whether or not that person might break your heart?
Who did that? Him, apparently, and he had the deep scars on that vital organ to prove it.
Bree’s nearness, the caring softness in her eyes, made him really look at her. Made him take in the sight of her beautiful face marred by disturbing swelling, scrapes and blood. Those physical reminders of how easily she could have been even more badly hurt, or worse, made his throat close and his gut clench. Had him wanting to pull her close, wanting to take care of her.
Wanting to never let her go.
But wanting that and having that were two very different things. Wanting that still tied him in knots.
Having that had proved impossible.
He lifted his hand to her banged-up face, carefully stroking his thumb across a cut on her cheekbone liberally smeared with dried blood. The full reality of what had almost happened tonight slammed into him all over again, and he had to try twice before he could speak. “Time to get yourself looked at. Get these cleaned up and make sure there’s nothing more serious that you’ve hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
Of course she was, despite what she’d gone through tonight. That was his independent Bree in a nutshell, wasn’t it? Except she wasn’t his anymore.
He dropped his hand from her cheek. The hollow ache in his chest seemed to physically hurt, his body started to shake again from the inside out, and he knew he had to get out of there before he did something horrifying. Like grab Bree up and plead with her to change her mind, to come back to him again. Beg her to love him again.
The room suddenly felt claustrophobic, and he gulped in a breath, trying to get air. “I need to go to the OR, see what injuries Emma has.”
He strode out the door and could feel Bree’s eyes on his back. Imagined pain in them, the hurt, maybe, that he wasn’t sticking around for her when she’d obviously been through hell and back in the past hours.
His steps slowed and he nearly turned. Until he remembered how vehemently she’d assured him she didn’t need a man in her life to take care of her. That she’d never need that, when all he’d wanted had been for them to take care of each other, form a partnership, the way his parents always had. What his father had said he wanted for both of his children—a deep love with one special person, having children together, to form the best kind of foundation for their adult lives.
She’d claimed that his vision for their future had somehow been all about him trying to change her, or be someone different from who she was, and how she’d figured that he just didn’t understand. There wasn’t one single thing he could think of that he’d want to change about Bree Donovan, except her conviction that children would never fit into her life. He couldn’t deny that making a family with her was a vision he’d had a hard time letting go.
Somehow he forced himself to keep walking. But the distance felt as if yet another seismic shift shook his heart, sending the cracks that already crisscrossed throughout splitting wider than the Grand Canyon.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_2a57a20f-5997-5709-a15b-551316110410)
“ANYBODY KNOW WHERE Dr. Latham might be?”
Bree had asked that question at least a dozen times in the past half hour as she’d roamed the hospital hallways. The emergency department, the surgical floors, the Trauma ICU, the NICU. She got the same answer as all the previous times, which was no.
Where in the world was he? And why wouldn’t he answer his darn phone? She was positive he wouldn’t have just gone on home while Emma was in critical condition. Knew that she’d just missed him when she’d finally been able to go see how Emma was doing. Knew he’d been to the NICU to see the baby, too, who was thankfully doing remarkably well, considering his terrifyingly abrupt entry into the world.
But all that had been over an hour after she’d left the ER. Dr. Kurz had insisted on a battery of tests and X-rays to make sure Bree didn’t have some kind of underlying injury that might surface later, which had been a frustrating delay. But she’d known it was necessary. Head injuries were no joke, and, since she’d been briefly knocked out, she was glad she didn’t seem to have a concussion. So all she had to deal with, which in comparison was nothing, were the aches and pains she felt from head to toe now that the crisis with Emma was over. At least, over for now, but her condition was still far from stable.
Maybe there was someone else who just might need her right then in a way that unconscious Emma didn’t. How could Sean not need comfort after the shock and scare of nearly losing his sister? And if he did, no matter what, she wanted to be there for him.
His family was so very different from her own. It almost seemed that being aggravated with one another sometimes was part of their love and closeness, and Bree couldn’t figure that out. Her own family’s disappointments and frustrations with one another ran deep, keeping them farther apart instead of closer.
She knew from the way Sean talked about his mother and sister that he loved them unconditionally. Knew from the indulgent expression she’d seen on his face most of the time he was looking at them, from the smile in his eyes, even when he was giving them grief about something. Obviously similar to the way Emma had told her their father had loved them. Bree wished that she could have met the important, missing piece to their family. Gone, but still with them in their hearts, in so many ways, every day.
Bree’s family? From the time she was little, she’d learned excelling at something was the best way to get her father’s attention. Winning a tennis match, or a surf competition, being on the dean’s list, getting into medical school. He’d left her and her mother when Bree was ten years old to marry a high-powered lawyer, and after that she rarely saw him. He did keep in touch, though, sending her notes when she did something he approved of, or had her photo in a surf magazine. The occasional phone call from him? Those were surprising and happy moments that showed he was proud of her, and made her feel pretty proud of herself, too.
She remembered chiming in with him many of the times he criticized her mother for focusing all her attention on her only child. Consumed with Bree’s life and her accomplishments, hovering and smothering, which drove her crazy. He’d often asked her mom why she never had any interest in actually doing something worthwhile on her own, when she easily could have done with her trust-fund money behind her, and Bree knew her mother’s lack of accomplishment and independence was why he’d left. Now that she was older and more mature, Bree felt bad that she’d gone along with her dad’s unpleasant comments, though her mother’s feelings never seemed hurt by it, thankfully.
She shook her head fiercely. Why was she even thinking about all that now, anyway? She’d learned long ago not to care. Must just be from worrying about Sean and Emma and their mom. Feeling unsettled after such an awful day.
Time to focus on what was important here, which was how Sean must be feeling. She knew holding him, comforting him, would rip open the wound on her heart she was trying hard to heal, but their time together in the ER today had already done that. Maybe he wouldn’t open up to her, especially considering their present relationship. Non-relationship. But she had to at least try.
Except it was looking as if she’d never find him. The longer she looked, the bigger the worry in her gut grew. Until the aha! moment came that should have occurred to her when she first started searching. “Of course,” she whispered to herself as she pivoted toward the elevator. Part of her dreaded heading where she knew he’d be. Had avoided going there for months because she didn’t want to think about the last time she’d been there with him. To feel the deep disappointment drench her with disbelief and pain all over again.
She stepped out onto the hospital’s rooftop, and the cool, night breeze of August soothed her sore face. To her left was the brightly lit helipad, but her attention went straight to the benches in shadow to her right. To the balcony railing that, in one direction, overlooked the twinkling lights of the city and the other, the ocean. And just as she’d expected, the unmistakably tall form of Sean Latham stood there leaning against the railing, his broad back to her.
She stood there a moment, letting the feelings wash over her. The good ones along with the really bad ones. Thinking about the joyful times they’d spent up here celebrating a good outcome with a patient they’d worked on together. The times they’d joked and laughed about some silly, unimportant thing going on at the hospital. The times they’d held one another when things hadn’t gone so well.
The tender times they’d just needed to get away from the hustle of the hospital and had come up here to smell the ocean breeze, to kiss and talk and connect with one another.
As she stared at his back, the memory of the last time they’d stood here together pinched her heart. She’d been so angry, so hurt, so confused, she’d yanked off the engagement ring he’d given her and thrown it right at him. The blinding, midday sunshine had caught the diamond, sending a prism of sharp white light searing across both of them just before the ring bounced off his muscular chest, pinged along the concrete and dived right off the side of the building.
At that moment, she hadn’t cared. Later? She’d felt a deep regret at losing that beautiful ring, and what it had meant. Or what she’d thought it meant. She wouldn’t admit it to a living soul, but for days after she’d searched the streets below, finding nothing but bits of asphalt and leaves and trash until she’d finally given up.
Probably, though, it was all symbolic. That ring had disappeared along with the future she’d thought she and Sean would have together.
She willed her feet to move toward him, reminding herself she wasn’t here to dredge up and rehash the past. Her goal was to be Sean’s friend tonight. To be a sympathetic ear after an unbelievably horrible day and uncertain future for Emma, not to mention the future of the baby who just might still lose his mother.
She moved to within a few inches of Sean’s side and gripped the railing, feeling the warmth of his arm near hers. Took in the scene in front of them, thinking about the disconnect of it all. How peaceful and tranquil it seemed compared to the churning going on inside her and doubtless Sean, too. To the life-and-death battles going on that very minute inside the hospital.
He didn’t move, didn’t speak, and she wondered if maybe he just wanted to be alone. But after looking for him the past hour, she was going to offer comfort if it killed her. Then leave if it wasn’t welcome.
“How are you doing?” she asked.
“Fine.”
Okay... She drew the cool breeze into her lungs and tried again. “What do you think about Emma’s prognosis?”
“Your guess is as good as mine. Liver laceration’s been repaired, ruptured spleen removed. C-section’s closed. Chest tube’s not draining any more blood, so they’ve removed it. Broken arm’s been put back together, and her broken ribs are going to hurt like crazy, but I imagine she’ll barely notice, considering everything else.”
He didn’t have to say the situation could still get worse fast. Why wouldn’t he look at her so she could see his expression? His tone was flat and emotionless, giving away nothing. It reminded her too much of the way he’d sounded after she’d told him it was over between them.
“Baby seems healthy, at least,” she said, forging on. “Remarkable, really.”
“Yeah.”
“Did Emma tell you what she’d decided to name him?”
“No.”
Not a surprise, really, since Sean had made his dismay over Emma’s life choices very clear, and she’d distanced herself from him the past months because of it.
“She’d decided on Wilson—your mother’s maiden name. She laughed about it, saying his uncle Sean would think it was a weird first name, but she plans to call him Will. I think Will Latham has a nice sound to it, don’t you?”
“Mom will like that.”
At least he’d answered in more than a monosyllable, but he still didn’t turn to look at her. Guess there hadn’t been much point in her coming after all.
“That moment in the ER when we thought we’d lost Emma. That was...” She stopped, because she couldn’t come up with a word even close to how it had felt. She knew how much he loved his sister, and pressed her hand to his warm back as she had earlier, thinking maybe that connection would help him let go and share. “That must have been incredibly hard for you.”
“Hard?” He suddenly swung to her, and the surprise of it had her taking a step back. He grasped her arms and pulled her flat against him, practically knocking her breath from her lungs. The dark eyes staring down into hers were again fierce, anguished, his features taut granite. “Damn it, Bree. You were in that car with her. It could have been you, too. You lying there dead on that table. I could have lost all three of you at once, in one second. Might never have seen my nephew, might never have been able to give my sister grief about her choices or her life again. Might never have been able to see your beautiful face and feel so mad at you I could barely keep from going ballistic. So angry that you left me I wanted to punch something.”
His voice cracked on some of the words before his arms wrapped tightly around her and his mouth came down hard on hers.
Bree curled her fingers into his scrub shirt and let herself feel every emotion in his kiss. The fear, the anguish. The frustration and anger and pain. Everything she’d felt, too, from the second she’d been able to focus enough to look across her car console. To see the mangled door pressing in on Emma. Everything she’d felt in the emergency room as everyone desperately worked to keep Emma alive. To deliver Will alive.
Everything she’d felt when they’d broken off the relationship that had seemed so foolishly perfect. Today’s intense emotions were confusingly tangled up with Sean and their past. From their instantaneous attraction and passion to the final argument six months ago, and that anger and frustration and pain had been nearly as unbearable as today’s.
Sean was holding her body so close against his, she wasn’t sure where he ended and she began, but his kiss began to change. It felt less about all those consuming emotions, and more about a deep relief mingling with the simple and profound connection they used to have. Softening into a tenderness that flipped Bree’s aching heart inside out, reminding her with excruciating clarity how good it had been between them. How delicious and wonderful and like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
“Bree.” His mouth barely separated from hers enough to whisper the word. “Bree.”
His fingers slipped into her hair, gently holding the back of her head as his lips caressed hers again so sweetly now, so leisurely, it weakened her knees and made her heart thud in slow, heavy strokes as the kiss changed again. Still sweet, still tender, but deeper now, stealing every molecule of breath from her lungs. Shaking, she slid her hands up his chest to cup the sides of his strong neck, to feel the warmth of his skin.
How could she survive without this?
Through her misty, single-minded focus on the feel of him and the taste of him, she became vaguely aware of a rhythmic sound, growing louder. The drone of an engine and the whup-whup of helicopter blades. Somehow, she managed to separate her mouth from his and open her eyes to see Sean’s lids lifting at the same time. His eyes were black, glittering like onyx, staring at her. His face was still tight, his jaw clenched. His chest heaved against hers as they stared at one another.
Bree took that moment to memorize his face, and, even as she did, inwardly mocked herself. Memorize it? Who was she kidding? Every curve and angle was forever etched deep in her mind and heart, and the vision of it appeared, unwelcome, all too often as it was.
Still, they just stood there, and she couldn’t make herself pull away, even though her preservation instincts told her she should. Reopen the wound on her heart? Their kiss and current closeness had made doubly sure of that, with some serious bleeding sure to follow.
The roar of the chopper landing on the helipad, the wind whipping her hair into her eyes and across both their faces, finally forced them to slowly separate. Sean briefly shut his eyes, and his chest lifted in another deep breath before he looked at her again, wordlessly grasping her elbow to lead her across the asphalt to the elevator.
Bree wanted to bang her head against the metal doors. She supposed a kiss between them should have been expected after all the big emotions of the day. But, oh, how she wished they hadn’t, because she didn’t need another ache inside her body to join the outer ones hurting plenty at that moment.
Sean stood in silence as he punched the button to the NICU floor and they didn’t speak as it lowered there. And what was there to say, after all, that hadn’t already been expressed one way or another? With that “another” way having left her legs still stupidly wobbling.
She followed him down the corridor, her attention instantly caught by how sexily disheveled his thick, dark hair was. Noting the width of his shoulders tugging at his shirt, how incredibly good the man looked in scrubs. The acrid hurt that he was no longer hers—had never really been hers—threatened to creep its way inside her internal organs all over again, and that really ticked her off.
Get over it. It wasn’t meant to be.
Resolutely, she turned her focus to the baby as they approached his incubator. A feeling of utter exhaustion began to seep through her, leaving every muscle a little limp. Between the accident itself, the crises of Emma and the baby in the ER, and the mixed emotions of being with Sean, she was physically and emotionally spent. Her next shift started in a mere six hours, and, if she was going to be functional enough to work, she had to get some sleep.
With any luck, it would be the deep kind of sleep little Will seemed to be enjoying. So still, he appeared to not even be breathing, but the steady beep of the monitors reassuringly showed he was fine. Which meant she had to spend only a few more minutes with Sean, and then she could say goodbye. If all went well, Emma would improve and be out of Intensive Care fairly soon, and Bree’s interactions with Sean would be brief and limited. Then, in eight days, off to Honolulu for her surf competition, new job and career advancement, and no more thinking about the man ever again.
And wouldn’t that be wonderful? Darned unlikely, too, since she hadn’t been able to accomplish that the past six months, and even more now that he was standing close by her side, hands in his pockets, looking down at little Will in the NICU bassinet. All too aware of the way his body radiated more warmth than the heat lamp glowing over the baby. Aware of the lines of his handsome profile, of the way his big body made her feel small, which didn’t happen often to a five-foot-nine woman.
She took a side step away from all that so she could breathe and focus. “He looks good,” she said, hoping he knew she was talking about the baby, and not talking to herself about Dr. Sean Latham. “They don’t even have him on oxygen anymore.”
“Yeah. He looks a lot better than he did when you first brought him into the world.”
“Does your mom know?”
“Haven’t been able to reach her. I contacted the cruise line to give her a message to call me, but I’m not sure how they’ll get her home. Might have to wait until the ship docks in a few days.” He turned to her, pinning her with those dark eyes of his. “Tell me about the accident.”
The accident. Last thing she wanted to talk about was that nightmare. But as her gaze met his somber one, she figured he deserved to know at least a few details about how his sister got hurt.
“I’d picked her up from the airport. Maybe you knew she was staying with me until your mother gets back from her cruise?”
“I didn’t know.” And it was clear he was pretty annoyed by that. “But go on.”
“Traffic was heavy. We were driving through an intersection when...when a truck going fast ran the light and crashed into her side of the car.” She closed her eyes and couldn’t go on. How long would the horror of seeing Emma so still in that wreckage stick in Bree’s brain?
Arms wrapped around her, folding her close against a wide chest. The feel of his hand slowly stroking up and down her back was ridiculously comforting. Comfort that had nothing to do with the two of them and their past and their earlier kiss. Comfort that was partly relief that he didn’t blame her the way she’d worried he might. That she didn’t have to blame herself.
“You don’t have to talk about it anymore. I already got the written report. Just wanted to hear your version. Which I knew wouldn’t include how you’d been pinned, too, after the impact pushed your car into one waiting at the light. How you kept insisting you were fine, telling the EMTs to take care of Emma. How they had to open the car up like it was a can of beans to get you out, and that you’re more than lucky you got away with only cuts and bruises.”
“I know. I just wish Emma had been so lucky.” Her voice cracked, and, even though she was trying to be tough and not embarrassingly emotional, she couldn’t seem to keep her head from dropping to his chest like a wilted flower that just didn’t have the strength to stay upright anymore.
His cheek rested against her hair and forehead, and Bree could have stood in the comforting cocoon of his arms, shutting out every concern in the world, forever. She wrapped her own arms tightly around his strong body and clung. The longer the moment lasted, the more she wanted to stay there, warm and safe. Then she managed to remind herself that warm and safe and forever weren’t an option, that she had to work soon, and her body needed rest more than her heart needed Sean.
Maybe if she said it often enough, her foolish heart would finally believe it.
“I’m heading home to get some sleep,” she said, somehow finding the strength to step out of his embrace. “I have to work in just a few hours.”
“Are you crazy? You’ve had a horrible day, you’re all banged up, and have to feel awful. Tell Kurz you’re taking a few days off.”
“I’m trying to get all my hours in now, so I can take off the last couple days to finish packing up before I move.”
A shutter came down over his face. “You know best. Take care of yourself.” He sent little Will a last, lingering look before turning toward the door without another word, only to be stopped by a nurse.
“Dr. Latham. I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “The doctor has given the okay to step your nephew down from the NICU to the nursery floor tomorrow, then release him the following day.”
“Release him?”
“Yes. He’s doing great. No adverse effects from the birth. Perfectly healthy, despite being three weeks early. He’s an awesome little guy, and will definitely be ready to go home.”
“Home?”
The look on Sean’s face would have made Bree laugh if the situation hadn’t been such a shock, and a very big problem. It hadn’t occurred to her to think about where the baby would go when he was given the green light to be released, even though it should have, and obviously hadn’t occurred to Sean, either. Emma would be recovering for a long time, and, even when she was stronger, she wouldn’t be able to care for an infant all by herself. Though her mother would be her rock, Bree knew. The woman who had Emma’s back and supported her no matter what.
Except her mother was on a ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean at that moment, and who knew when she’d be able to get back?
“Yes, home.” The nurse was looking at Sean as if maybe he was a little dense, but Bree couldn’t blame him for his shocked reaction. With the baby healthy, his focus had turned to the seriousness of Emma’s condition. “I know his mother’s going to be in the hospital quite a while. How about I have the social worker get with you to give you information on day cares that take infants? Though you’ll need a nanny or nursemaid for at least a little while first.”
“Nanny?” His stunned gaze moved to Bree. “Nursemaid?”
Something about the way he was looking at her set off alarm bells in her brain. “No. Oh, no. I have work to do, I’m moving soon, and I don’t know a darn thing about babies.”
“Neither do I.” He reached to grasp her hand. “Which will make us the perfect team.”
She pulled it loose and stepped back. “No, Sean. I can’t. And we already found out we’re about as far from a perfect team as two people can get.”
“Okay, not a perfect team. But you’re a woman good at everything, and I need your help with Will.”
“Having ovaries doesn’t mean I know a thing about babies,” she said, trying to lighten the moment while staying firm on the subject. “Between you and a nanny, I know you’ll do just fine. I have faith in you, Sean.” She leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek to show him she meant it, and the feel of his warm skin covered with stubble nearly sent her lips sliding a few inches over to his mouth.
She pulled back, lips still tingling, and turned to practically run out the door. Part of her felt bad abandoning him, but her self-preservation was kicking in. She had to stay away from Sean Latham as much as possible until she was on her way to Honolulu, before her heart got banged up all over again.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_495cd36f-86d4-54ef-97fd-6fbee8760d9c)
BREE TAPED SHUT the last box of books on her floor, then sat back on her haunches, unable to struggle to her feet at that exact moment. Compared to the day of the accident, she felt reasonably rested as far as sleep was concerned. Getting there hadn’t been too difficult, since any emergency department doc was used to dealing with erratic hours, and days getting mixed up with nights. But the aches and bruises that seemed to have multiplied over every inch of her body, not to mention the relentless headache that stabbed her temples with any abrupt movement, were making it a little tough to get around.
“Okay, Granny, move.” As she pushed to her feet, the doorbell pealed through her apartment. She was expecting the landlord coming with end-of-lease paperwork, and her heart slammed hard into her ribs when she opened the door. No landlord standing there. It was Sean.
Sean, wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt and, astonishingly, holding little Will awkwardly cradled in one arm against his broad chest. An infant car seat rested by his feet.
At least, she assumed the baby was Will, though the little guy was unrecognizable. The tiny knit hat he’d worn at the hospital covered his head down to his eyebrows, and he was swaddled with a blanket up to his lower lip. Then again, there was no denying he was a Latham. The alert brown eyes staring at her from under that hat were already remarkably similar to Sean’s, and she knew at that moment the boy was going to be a heartbreaker just like his uncle.
Her hand tightened on the doorknob as she watched Sean slowly slip his sunglasses from his eyes to tuck them inside the collar of his T. Eyes that were looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite figure out.
What was he doing here? Showing off his nephew before she left? Maybe his real goal was to show her how cute babies were, as if she didn’t already know. But cuteness didn’t have anything to do with not wanting any of her own. Not wanting a child to consume her life, whether Sean believed that wasn’t the way it had to be or not.
“Sorry,” she said. “This is a no-stork zone.”
“I don’t see any signs posted.”
“Maybe they got blown down in yesterday’s windstorm.” She folded her arms across her chest to show him he wasn’t making himself and the baby comfy. The uncomfortable comfiness—could there be such a thing?—that she and Sean had shared two days ago in the hospital had been more than she could handle already. “What can I do for you?”
Impassive brown eyes met hers for several heartbeats until he finally answered. “Help me take care of His Willieness until Mom gets here.”
“I can’t.” Hadn’t she already emphatically told him that at the hospital, and the three times he’d called her after? “I’ve got work. And, again, I don’t know anything about taking care of babies.”
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