The Doctor's Pregnant Bride? / The Texas Billionaire's Baby

“How come?”

“I’m going to Cancún for a week. I leave on Saturday.”

Is she blushing? Sara Beth wondered, eyeing her. “Who’re you going with?”

“No one. I just wanted a break from winter.”

“You’re going alone?” She and her mother had traveled together a lot through the years, but mostly driving trips to the shore.

“Would you like to come?”

“I can’t. Not right now. But why didn’t you ask earlier?”

“I decided this morning. I found an incredible deal for an all-inclusive resort. I’ve never done anything like this, and I’m excited about it.”

Something wasn’t ringing true, Sara Beth decided. On the surface, maybe her mother was being honest, but there was more to it.

“E-mail me your itinerary,” Sara Beth said, giving her mother a hug. Maybe after the trip, she would open up. “And have fun. Remember your sunscreen. I do envy you a week of sunshine.”

“And margaritas.”

“That, too.”

During the bus ride home, Sara Beth tried to examine her mother’s announcement. She wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment person. Like Sara Beth, her mother analyzed, planned, then finally executed, usually to unsurprising results. Taking off for Cancún on only a few days’ notice was shocking enough, but to go alone?

Sara Beth’s cell phone rang as she stepped off the bus at her stop.

“Hi, it’s Ted. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

She knew his voice already, the deep, even tone that shot a thrill through her. The voice she hadn’t dared to hope she would hear. “No. Actually you’re keeping me company.”

“In what way?”

“I just got off the bus and I’m walking home. What’s up?”

“You know that stack of catalogs and magazines you gave me today?”

“Of course.” She’d asked him to thumb through them and turn down the pages of what appealed to him, then she could figure out where they needed to shop.

“I’m not seeing anything I like.”

“Nothing?” She’d given him everything from Pottery Barn and Restoration Hardware catalogs to Architectural Digest magazines.

“Does that mean it’s hopeless?” he asked.

“I don’t know what it means. Maybe I’ll know more when I see the art you want to display.” She was curious about his loft, too, was looking forward to seeing where he lived. “Or maybe what it means is you should take Tricia up on her offer to help. Or hire a real decorator.”

He didn’t respond immediately. “Let’s see what we can do first. Where are you?”

“Not far from home. Why?”

“Can you see your house?”

“No, but I will in a few seconds. There. It’s in view. Why?”

“Just trying to get a picture of how far you’d gotten.” His tone was casual, but—

It hit her then. He was watching over her. He was keeping her on the phone until she was safely home. Maybe he gave his mother credit for drumming etiquette into him, but this wasn’t etiquette. This was a character trait, one she valued, and probably deeply ingrained in him.

Sara Beth was raised to be independent, like her mother. They’d never had a man around to help. It was always just the two of them, or the handyman they hired occasionally when a job was beyond their skills.

“I’m turning up my walkway,” she said, letting him know she knew what he was doing. “Climbing the first step. The second. Third. I’ve reached the landing.”

She heard him laugh softly, so she put a little drama into her voice. “I’m inserting the key in my lock. Oh, look! It’s turning. I’m opening the door. Now I’m shutting it—”

“And locking it.”

She put her phone next to the bolt as it fell into place. Locked.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“You’re making fun of me.”

“No.” And she wasn’t. Warmth at his concern wove through her. She swallowed, not knowing what to tell him, so she just continued on with her running commentary. “I’m climbing the indoor stairs… unlocking my door … going inside … shutting and locking it. Done. Thank you. I couldn’t have managed it without you.”

He laughed.

“No, seriously, Ted, that was very thoughtful of you, walking me home.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

Friends. She toed off her shoes and sank onto her sofa. “I was coming back from dinner with my mom. We generally get together on Tuesdays.”

“That’s … nice?”

She laughed at how he turned it into a question. “Unlike you, my mom doesn’t pester me—that was the word, right? Pester? Anyway, she’s not after me about getting married.” But Sara Beth felt ready. She didn’t want to wait—had no reason to wait, in fact. She had a good job and money in the bank, had dated enough to know what she was looking for and who not to waste her time on.

“Which is why you see your mother every week, and I don’t do the same.”

“For my mom and me, it’s a routine,” she said, considering it. “We started the Tuesday-night dinners when I moved out after graduation six years ago, so it’s not just a routine but an ingrained habit now.”

“Like me not having furniture. I’m almost used to it.”

“We’ll figure out something. Maybe you can show me what you don’t like.”

“I’d be dog-earing almost every page. Well, I just wanted to warn you that the job may be harder than you were planning on. Might take longer than you think. I mean, if you have a date on Saturday night, tell me what time you need to be home.”

She hated admitting she didn’t have a date. He already knew she hadn’t had a date on Valentine’s Day. “I don’t have plans.”

“I appreciate your help, Sara Beth. You’ve been a good sport. See you tomorrow.”

She hung up the phone with a sigh. A good sport. He wasn’t the first man to call her that. Men enjoyed her company, and usually wanted to stay friends so that they could continue to unburden their personal woes on good-sport Sara Beth, who was a good listener, non-judgmental and accommodating. And here she was, repeating the pattern.

Technically he’s your boss. At least until this project was done. Which was an excellent reason for just being a good sport, she reminded herself, particularly since her body tingled around him.

She could always step back. If, after Saturday, she felt too drawn to him, too attracted, she could say no if he asked her to do anything outside of the institute.

But … would she?

The next morning Sara Beth felt her pulse rev and her face heat as she walked down the hall toward the lab. She bent over at a water fountain outside the room and took a long drink, stalling. The anticipation of seeing Ted had made falling asleep hard, then she’d found herself awake an hour before her alarm went off.

Straightening, she swallowed the cold water, then caught a glimpse of Ted through the window as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. He was wearing his glasses and lab coat, his hair tousled as if he’d plunged his hands into it more than once. From frustration? Impatience?

Then Derek Armstrong moved into view, coming up beside Ted to look at his computer screen. Sara Beth frowned. Why was he there? As CFO of the institute, Derek wouldn’t normally drop in on the research doctors. There wouldn’t seem to be a reason for him to do so.

Even though Sara Beth had spent a lot of time in the Armstrong home, Derek and his twin brother, Paul, were eight years older. She’d lost track of them until she’d come to work full-time at the institute. She did know that Derek and Paul were opposites in many ways, ways that made Paul a good chief of staff, respected and liked, and Derek more hard-nosed, since he was the money guy. But he hadn’t endeared himself to the staff.

Or at least not lately. People hadn’t whispered behind his back until recently. His expression was stern now as he talked with Ted.

Suddenly Ted looked toward the window. Sara Beth pulled back before he could see her watching. She didn’t know why she was nervous about seeing him this morning, except that as she’d gotten to know him more each day, she’d found more to like each day, too. Her last boyfriend, a six-month relationship that had ended a couple months ago, would never have kept her on the phone until she was safely inside her house. He’d always “respected her independence,” as he’d put it—perhaps because she’d made sure he knew her independence was something she prided herself on.

But after last night she’d altered her thinking a little. Being independent didn’t mean she couldn’t let a man be considerate.

Ted had made her feel special. With a simple gesture he made her previous boyfriends seem uncaring. And Ted wasn’t even her boyfriend.

Derek came out of the lab, smiled slightly at her, then held the door for her to enter.

“Good morning,” Ted said, his posture a little stiff.

“Hi,” she said, going straight to her desk, upon which was the shopping bag full of catalogs and magazines she’d brought him the day before.

“I found a few possibilities online and printed them off,” he said. “Some styles that appealed to me. They’re on top.”

“That’s great.” She pulled out the papers, glanced at them, then nodded. “It’s you.”

“I don’t know what’s me, exactly, but I liked it.”

“Casual elegance, clean lines, masculine, not fussy. That’s you.” She set the bag on the floor. “I’ll come up with a list of stores to check out.”

“Thanks. I really appreciate it. Why don’t I pick you up around nine on Saturday?”

She hadn’t looked at him yet, but kept herself busy turning on the computer, taking off her jacket and hanging it up. She would finish up the first stack of files today. Would she get to go to the vault and grab new ones?

“It’s an easy shot for me on the bus, Ted. There’s no sense in driving to my house only to drive back to yours.”

“I don’t mind.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw him move toward her.

She finally looked at him. Big mistake. Even with his nerd glasses and lab coat on, he looked sexy. Crazy sexy. Like she-wanted-to-kiss-him-for-hours sexy.

“Are you all right, Sara Beth?”

Desire and guilt battled for control in her head. She couldn’t tell him how hot she found him, nor could she tell him that the moment she was allowed into the vault, she would do something completely unethical. For a woman who’d always prided herself on her integrity—

“Sara Beth?”

She sat. She didn’t want to come across as rude, but she really needed him to go away. “I’m just anxious to get to work.”

He didn’t go away. In fact, he moved closer, into her personal space, stealing her oxygen. “Have you changed your mind? Would you prefer not to help me shop?”

She shook her head. Once she made a commitment to someone or something, she followed through. But this would be it, she decided. One time only. “I just don’t think you need to pick me up on Saturday.”

He stared at her. She stared back, trying to keep her expression bland.

“Good morning, all,” Chance Demetrios said as he breezed through the door. He came to a quick stop and looked from Sara Beth to Ted. “Everything okay?”

“Apparently,” Ted said, then walked back to his computer.

Chance lifted his brows at Sara Beth. She smiled. “Something I can help you with?”

“I just sent Mrs. Jordan next door to be prepped for a C-section. I thought you’d like to assist.”

She hopped up. “Absolutely. If you don’t mind, Ted?”

“Someone special?” Ted guessed.

“Candy Jordan was my first patient when I started working here full-time. She went through seven implantations before it finally took, and now she’s pregnant with triplets. I’ve held her hand a lot.”

Ted gestured toward the door. “By all means, go.”

She hesitated, then looked at Chance. “See you in a few.” He left.

She waited for the door to shut. “I’ll come back later and work,” she said to Ted.

“You can skip a day. It’s fine.”

She couldn’t get a handle on his mood. Which was probably fair, since she hadn’t let him get a handle on hers. She moved up beside him. “I don’t want to skip a day. I’ll work later on.”

“Whatever works out.”

He hadn’t stopped staring at his screen. She wondered if she’d offended him. “Does it bother you that I turned down your offer in order to ride the bus to your home?”

He made eye contact. “You’re doing me a favor, Sara Beth. A big favor. The least you can do is let me pick you up.”

So he was upset about that. “You’re right. Thank you. Yes, I’d appreciate that.” She said goodbye then left.

So. They’d had their first fight. She smiled. She’d thought Ted was extraordinarily patient, but even his patience could be tested when he wasn’t getting his own way.

Frankly, she was glad to see this new side of him. And wanted to see a whole lot more.

Chapter Six

Ted considered patience his strongest asset, and his ability to concentrate a close second. He could spend hours doing one thing, and only one thing, not even taking time to eat. Patience intact, he got to Sara Beth’s house a few minutes early, hoping that parking spaces would open up along the crowded street of homes on Saturday morning as people went off for the day.

He didn’t have to wait at all, a car pulling out just as he got there. He parked but stayed in the car, knowing she would be watching for him, sure of that much about her.

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. She was surprisingly stubborn for someone known at the institute as a nurturer. He hadn’t seen evidence of any nurturing toward himself.…

Which was fine with him. He’d never liked women who hovered. Not only did Sara Beth not hover, she kept a good distance—except for that night at his parents’ house, and technically, he’d closed that gap several times. Having her working in the lab had been fine, unless she came to him with a question, her lemony scent breaking his concentration even before she talked.

He wasn’t used to having his concentration broken so easily. It should annoy him, he supposed, but instead he was comfortable. He’d felt comfortable with a number of women, but not ones he’d had interest in touching.

He wanted to touch Sara Beth.

The front door of her building opened. She came out wearing jeans and a beige jacket that came to midthigh. She was pulling on gloves. Her hair was down and tucked into her jacket. Her warm breath misted around her in the cold morning air. Something caught her attention overhead, and she stopped, shading her eyes, then smiled. A bird, probably.

He tried to remember the last time he had stopped to watch a bird.

All work and no play—Was he that dull?

He climbed out of his car, leaned on the top. “You’re prompt.”

“So are you.”

“You say that as if it surprises you.”

“I had a fleeting thought that you may get involved in something and forget me.”

“Not a chance.” Not a chance in hell, he thought, as she got into his car.

He climbed in, too, then held out a cup of coffee with cream, which he’d noticed was how she took it, and a chocolate doughnut with chocolate frosting. “Good morning,” he said.

She yanked off her gloves, tucked them in her lap, then accepted his offering. She toasted him with the coffee cup. “It is now.”

Her eyes sparkled above the rim. Something shifted inside him, not uncomfortably, exactly, although not completely identifiable.

Ted started the engine and pulled away, but caught her eyeing him. “What?”

“Do you even own a pair of jeans?”

“Of course I do. Why?”

“You’re always so dressed up, that’s all. This is Saturday. Play day.”

“I play fine in these clothes.” But it got him thinking. If clothes made the man, did that mean he never played? This would take some thought, he decided.

The trip to his loft didn’t take long and was mostly silent as he spent the time wondering if she saw him as being uptight, while she enjoyed the coffee and doughnut during the drive. He ate when he was hungry, didn’t much care what it was. It refueled him, which was the purpose of eating. But watching her savor the chocolate frosting by licking it off the doughnut—

He looked away and just drove. Hadn’t he been the one to chastise Chance for his dalliances in the past? In the end, it didn’t matter if you were innocent of making unwanted advances. If people perceived otherwise, you were dead in the water.

He pulled into his underground parking space, almost commenting about how quiet she’d been, then decided not to. She didn’t seem bothered by their lack of conversation. Her smile was as bright as usual. There was no stiffness in her shoulders, if she was holding back anything.

“Nice to have permanent parking,” she commented as he punched in the security code to his private elevator that would take them to the top floor of the converted warehouse. “My mom does, too. It’s great having a car available at times. Makes it easy to take weekend getaways.”

“Having lived in San Francisco for so long, easy access to parking was on my list of requirements.”

“Along with what else?” Sara Beth asked.

“A view of the Charles. Although I don’t know why, since I’m hardly here to enjoy it. Lots of open space. I don’t like small rooms. They make me feel hemmed in.”

“Are you claustrophobic?”

“I just don’t like walls.” The elevator stopped. The door opened to a large, although not massive space, with cherrywood floors, exposed ductwork, brick walls and floor-to-ceiling windows facing an amazing view of the Charles River.

“This is stunning,” Sara Beth said, slipping off her shoes as he did, moving into the loft, shrugging off her jacket as she went. “I can see your dilemma about decorating it. You need to create rooms without using walls, so everything has to flow from one space to the next.” She eyed him. “Are you sure you don’t want to use a professional? I don’t know that I’m up to the challenge, given that my education in decorating comes from watching the Home and Garden channel.”

“Let’s give it a shot. If you still feel the same at the end of today, I’ll do something else.” The truth was, he wanted to spend the day with her. He hadn’t spent a day with a woman since he’d moved back, and now he found himself relaxed, work not pounding his brain, a rare occurrence. He needed a little R & R, then could return to work refreshed.

“Okay,” she said, wandering into the kitchen, a newly renovated contemporary space with dark wood-and-glass cabinets, glass-tile backsplashes, stainless-steel appliances and black, brown and gold granite countertops.

A folding camp chair sat in eerie loneliness by the front window, an upside down cardboard box placed next to it to use as an end table, along with one floor lamp. A flat-screen television was mounted above the fireplace.

“Spartan,” she commented, flashing a quick grin.

“That’s a nice way of putting it.” He gestured toward the rear of the unit. “Bedroom and bath are down this way.”

The bathroom was large, the shower walk-in, the floor porcelain tile and the counters the same granite as in the kitchen. The bedroom space could be closed off by pulling large planks of polished wood attached to an overhead rail, spanning from wall to wall.

She glanced into his huge walk-in closet, where long-sleeved dress shirts lined one side, in blue, white and cream. Slacks in black, brown and charcoal took up the rack below the shirts. A few suits. A tuxedo. Quite a few shoes. A couple of polo shirts. And one pair of jeans, never worn, tags attached.

“How long have you lived here?” Sara Beth asked as they returned to the living room.

“Don’t start.” After a week of her being mostly businesslike, he was enjoying her playfulness now. “Or no more doughnuts.”

She laughed, the sound echoing in his almost-empty space. “You get what you pay for.”

She pulled out a notepad and measuring tape from her purse, and they went to work drawing a floor plan to scale. Then he spread out his artwork along the living room wall.

“Eclectic,” she said, tapping her pencil against her lips as she viewed the minigallery. “No wonder you can’t settle on a style.”

“If I have a gut reaction to a piece, I buy it, whether it costs fifty dollars or five thousand.”

From her purse she pulled out a digital camera and took photos of each piece. He could see her mind whirling with possibilities. He wished he had that kind of spatial vision, to see what could be instead of what was. Chance frequently accused him of having tunnel vision. Ted had come to accept that about himself.

He also knew that same tunnel vision may very well be the reason he would someday find that rare treatment, something reliable, that had eluded researchers forever. A scientist had to be devoted and single-minded. He was both, and unapologetic about it.

Ted heard his name being called. Sara Beth stood in front of him, waving her hands and smiling.

“Where’d you go?” she asked.

“Sorry.” His defenses went up. So many women had become frustrated with how often he ignored them while delving into his own thoughts.

“Saving the world?” she asked, her smile softening.

She didn’t seem at all upset that he’d tuned her out. Maybe because they were friends, not dating?

“You don’t do that when you drive, do you, Ted?”

“No tickets. No accidents.”

“But how many did you cause?” She laughed as she scooped up her purse and dropped her camera in it. “I’ll use your bathroom, then we can go, if you’re ready.”

“Sure.”

She breezed past him, leaving her fresh scent in her wake. He watched her walk away, her stride purposeful, her shiny hair swinging between her shoulder blades. An image flashed of her naked, straddling him, and bending over, her hair brushing his chest, then his stomach …

His body clenched. He turned away and moved to the window. She hadn’t had a date on Valentine’s Day, nor tonight. So … maybe she wouldn’t mind spending time with him, helping him take a break now and then from his cause. Someone to share dinner with, have a conversation.

Of course, in the meantime, he needed to do something about sex. Or the lack thereof, in this case. As in, not since he’d left San Francisco. He figured that was why he’d reacted so strongly to Sara Beth, the only woman he’d touched in months.

He studied a couple strolling along the river’s edge, hand in hand. Tricia would be a safer bet, he thought. She was home for a month, dedicated to her career, wouldn’t expect the long term from him. They had a history. No complications to speak of. Except … he felt proprietary about Sara Beth. Unreasonably so, probably, but true.

“Ready?”

He turned around. Sara Beth returned his look, a small smile stretching her lips, curiosity in her eyes. He wanted to back her up until her legs hit his bed and she tumbled onto it, and follow her down. He wondered what she tasted like. Did her bra and panties match the brightly colored scrubs she always wore, or was she a pristine-white or invisible-beige lingerie kind of woman? No hint of an answer came from her V-neck black sweater that plunged only far enough to have him wishing for more.

Sara Beth’s smile faltered. “Are you upset about something?”

“No.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, then let go immediately. “I apologize. I was deep in thought.”

She cocked her head. “I wonder what it’s like, living in your mind. It must be fascinating.”

It was the wrong thing for her to say. No one had ever considered his tuning out to be anything but negative. To have her think otherwise made him want to get closer.

“You’d probably find a lot of twists and turns and dead ends,” he said, encouraging her toward the elevator.

“Did anything come from the idea that struck you at my house last week?”

“Yes. Chance and I are working on it.” In fact, he should be in the lab now, but was determined not to feel guilty about taking a day for himself. He wasn’t sure how to find a balance between work and social life.