About the Authors

LYNNE MARSHALL used to worry she had a serious problem with daydreaming, then she discovered she was supposed to write those stories! An RN for twenty-six years, she came to fiction writing later than most. Now she writes romance, which usually includes medicine, but always comes straight from her heart. She is happily married, a Southern California native, a woman of faith, a dog lover, an avid reader, a curious traveller, and a proud grandma.

AMALIE BERLIN lives with her family and critters in Southern Ohio, and writes quirky and independent characters for Mills & Boon Medical Romance. She likes to buck expectations with unusual settings and situations, and believes humour can be used to powerfully illuminate truth—especially when juxtaposed against intense emotions. Love is stronger and more satisfying when your partner can make you laugh through times when you don’t have the luxury of tears.

Three-time Golden Heart® finalist TINA BECKETT learned to pack her suitcases almost before she learned to read. Born to a military family, she has lived in the United States, Puerto Rico, Portugal and Brazil. In addition to travelling, Tina loves to cuddle with her pug, Alex, spend time with her family, and hit the trails on her horse. Learn more about Tina from her website, or friend her on Facebook.

Hot Docs on Call: Tinseltown Cinderella

His Pregnant Sleeping Beauty

Lynne Marshall

Taming Hollywood’s Ultimate Playboy

Amalie Berlin

Winning Back His Doctor Bride

Tina Beckett

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09766-6

HOT DOCS ON CALL: TINSELTOWN CINDERELLA

His Pregnant Sleeping Beauty © 2016 Harlequin Books S.A. Taming Hollywood’s Ultimate Playboy © 2016 Harlequin Books S.A. Winning Back His Doctor Bride © 2016 Harlequin Books S.A.

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Version: 2020-03-02

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Table of Contents

Cover

About the Authors

Title Page

Copyright

His Pregnant Sleeping Beauty

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Taming Hollywood’s Ultimate Playboy

Back Cover Text

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Winning Back His Doctor Bride

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

His Pregnant Sleeping Beauty

Lynne Marshall

This book is dedicated to the two paramedics who

helped me make my character, Joe, a true hero.

Thank you John-Philip Maarschalk and Rick

Ochocki for your expert input and help. What

would the world be without our first responders?

CHAPTER ONE

CAREY SPENCER HAD never felt more alone in her life than when she got off the bus in Hollywood.

Joseph Matthews, on that night’s shift for the prestigious Hollywood Hills Clinic, had just delivered one of the industry’s favorite character actresses to the exclusive twenty-bed extended recovery hotel. It was tucked between Children’s Hospital and a smaller private hospital on Sunset Boulevard, and the common eye would never guess its function. Joe had agreed to make the Wednesday night run because James Rothsberg himself had asked. After all, the lady had won an award for Best Supporting Actress the year before last.

As the lead paramedic for the ambulance line he owned, Joe had attended the not-to-be-named-aloud patient during the uneventful ride to the recovery hotel. She’d been heavily sedated, her IV was in place, her vitals, including oxygen saturation, were fine, but she’d had so much work done on her face, breasts and hands she looked like a mummy. When they’d arrived, you’d have thought he’d delivered the President to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center the way the abundant staff rushed to the ambulance and took over the transfer.

Now, at nine p.m., back sitting in the front of the private ambulance, Joe switched on some music. Jazz, his favorite station. Yeah, he owned this bus—hell, he owned all six of them—so he could play whatever music he wanted. But that also kept him thinking about work a lot. It was the first of the month and he’d have to make copies of the June shift schedule for the EMTs and paramedics on his team before they showed up for work tomorrow morning.

“I’m hungry,” Benny, his EMT, said from behind the wheel.

Why was Joe not surprised? The kid had barely turned twenty and seemed to have hollow legs.

Restless and out of sorts, a state that was nothing new these days, Joe nodded. “How about that Mexican grill?” They’d just made their last run on Friday night, without plans for later, so why not?

“You read my mind.” Benny tossed him a cockeyed grin, his oversized Afro flopping with the quick movement.

He turned off Hollywood Boulevard and up N. Cahuenga to the fast-food place by the cross-country bus depot, where a bus had just arrived from Who Knew Where, USA. Benny had to wait to pull into a larger-than-average parking space. Joe mindlessly watched a handful of people trickle off the bus.

A damn fine-looking young woman wearing oversized sunglasses got off. Sunglasses at night. What was up with that? She was slender and her high-heeled boots made her look on the tall side. She wore jeans and a dark blue top, or was it a sweater? Her thick hair was layered and long with waves and under the bus depot lights looked brown. Reddish? He wondered what her story was. Probably because of the shades at night. But he didn’t bother to think about ladies these days. Yet, still, dang, she was hot. And stood out like a rose in a thorn patch.

Benny backed the private ambulance into the space at the farthest end of the restaurant lot, and Joe got out the passenger side, immediately getting hit by the mouthwatering aroma of spicy beans and chipotle chicken. He stretched, eager to chow down. A sudden movement in his peripheral vision drew his attention. Someone sprang from behind a pillar and snagged a lady’s purse strap and wrist, pulling her out of the crowd and toward the nearby alley. It was the woman he’d just been gawking at! The other travelers had mostly dispersed. She put up a fight, too, and squealed, yet the few people left lingering didn’t seem to notice...but he did.

Joe ran to the mouth of the alley. “Hey!” Then sprinted toward the young woman, who was still fighting to hold on to her purse.

The tall but skinny, straggly-haired dude dragged her by the shoulder strap and wrist deeper down the alley. Why doesn’t she just let go? Ah, wait, it’s one of those over-the-torso jobs.

“Hey!”

This time the guy turned and whacked her with his fist, knocking the young woman to the ground. Her head hit with a thud. He ripped off the purse, hitting her head on the pavement again, then stepped over her to get to Joe with a wild swing.

Joe blocked the first punch with little effort—the dumb punk didn’t know what he was dealing with as he boxed for his workouts—but the guy pulled a knife and lashed out. Joe threw another punch and landed it, even while feeling a hot lightning-quick slice across his ribs. Now he was really ticked. The guy ran deeper into the alley with Joe in pursuit, soon disappearing over a large trash bin and tall crumbling brick wall. Joe skidded to a brief stop and watched in disbelief. For a scumbag the man was agile. Probably from a lot of practice in assaulting innocent people.

The girl! Holding his side, he sprinted back to where she lay. Out cold.

Benny met up with him. “I called the police. You okay?”

“Just a superficial wound.” Still, he checked it briefly since an adrenaline rush could mask pain. The last thing he wanted to find out was that the cut was deep enough to cause evisceration and he hadn’t noticed. Fortunately the only thing he saw was oozing blood, nothing gushing. He’d throw a thick absorbent pad over his middle as soon as Benny got back with the trauma kit, oxygen bag and backboard. He didn’t want to bleed all over the poor lady. “Bring our equipment, okay?” He grabbed a pair of gloves from Benny’s belt, and knelt in front of the young woman as Benny took off for the ambulance. “I’m a paramedic, miss. Are you okay?” he said loudly and clearly. She didn’t respond.

She’d hit her head hard when she’d fallen—correct that, had been punched to the ground. He tried to rouse her with a firm hand on her shoulder. “Hello? You okay, you awake, miss?”

He watched the rise and fall of her chest. At least she was breathing normally. He felt her neck for the carotid pulse and found it. Rate and strength normal. Good. He scanned her body for bleeding or other signs of obvious injury. Maybe the scumbag had stabbed her too. Then he used the palms of his gloved hands to sweep the underside of her arms and legs to check for bleeding, and did the same beneath both sides of her back. So far so good.

There was a fifty-cent-sized pool of blood behind her head, but he didn’t move her neck, not before he and Benny had placed a cervical collar on her. Her assailant had run off with her purse and she didn’t appear to have any other form of ID. He checked her wrist and then her neck to see if she wore any emergency alert jewelry. No such luck. They’d have to wait until she regained consciousness to find out who she was.

Even under the dim lights in the alley she had an obvious black eye, and because the dirtbag had yanked off her torso-anchored purse strap the sweater she’d been wearing had been pulled halfway down her left arm...which was covered in bruises. She’d just been mugged, but these marks weren’t fresh. Anger surged through him. She’d been beaten up long before today.

What kind of guy treated a woman like that?

He shook his head. Of all the lousy luck. She hadn’t stepped off the bus five minutes ago and had already gotten mugged and knocked unconscious. The only thing she had going for her on this nightmare of a Friday night was him. He shuddered for the young stranger over what might have played out if he hadn’t been here.

Maybe it was those thick eyelashes that seemed to glue her eyes shut, or her complete vulnerability, being unconscious in an alley, or maybe it was the obvious signs of abuse, but for whatever reason Joe was suddenly struck with an uncompromising need to protect her.

From this moment on tonight he vowed to take responsibility for the out-of-luck Jane Doe. Hell, if anyone had ever needed a guardian angel, she did.

Benny had moved the ambulance closer, and brought the backboard and equipment. Joe let Benny apply a large sloppy dressing around his middle as he checked her airway again, noting she had good air exchange. He worried, with the head injury, that she might vomit and wanted to be near if she did to prevent aspiration.

“We’re going to give you some oxygen and put a collar round your neck,” Joe said calmly, hoping she might already be regaining consciousness and hear him explain everything they did to her. They worked together and soon had Jane on the backboard for stability. Joe secured her with the straps, never taking his eyes off her. She had definitely been knocked out cold, yet still breathed evenly. A good thing. But he knew when unconscious people woke up they could often be combative and try to take off the oxygen and cervical collar. Hell, after what she’d just been through, could he blame her if she woke up fighting?

With her long dark auburn hair spread over her shoulders and her hands strapped to the transport board, she made the strangest image.

An urban Sleeping Beauty.

“Ready for transfer?” Joe said, breaking his own thoughts.

“Don’t you want to wait for the police?”

“If they’re not here by the time we get her in the back of the van, you call them again and tell them to meet us at the clinic. She might have a skull fracture or subdural bleed for all we know, and needs medical attention ASAP.” He knew the next forty-five minutes were all she had remaining in the golden hour for traumatic head injury. “I’m going to call Dr. Rothsberg and let him know what we’ve got.”

He jumped into the back of the van first to guide the head of the gurney on which they’d placed the long spine board and patient as Benny pushed from the back, then he rolled the gurney forward and locked it in place with sprung locks on the ambulance floor.

He’d ride in the back with her. If she woke up, confused and possibly combative, he wanted to be there. Plus it would be his chance to do a more thorough examination.

Joe did another assessment of Sleeping Beauty’s condition. Unchanged. Then he made the call. Unexpectedly, Dr. Rothsberg said to bring her to the clinic instead of county. Which was a good thing, because Joe would have taken her home before he’d consider delivering a Jane Doe to county hospital to potentially slip through every conceivable crack due to their overstretched system.

He stripped off the makeshift dressing and his shirt to assess his own wound, which was long and jagged, still wept blood and would definitely need stitches. Now that he was looking at it, it burned like hell. Benny had a short conversation with the police, who’d just arrived. Great timing! He showed them where they’d found her and where the attacker had fled over the wall then left them to look for witnesses as Joe cleaned and dressed his own wound. Damn, the disinfectant smarted! One of the policemen took a quick look inside the ambulance, saw the victim and Joe with his injury, nodded and took off toward the alley.

Benny closed the back doors of the van, got into the driver’s seat then started the ambulance. “They’ll take our statements at the clinic later.”

“Good,” Joe said, taping his dressing, constantly checking his patient as he did so.

As Benny drove, with their lights flashing, Joe checked her vital signs again, this time using a blood-pressure cuff then a stethoscope to listen to her lungs. He opened her eyes, opening the blackened eye more gingerly, and used his penlight to make sure she hadn’t blown a pupil. Fortunately she hadn’t, but unfortunately he’d had to move a clump of her hair away from her face in order to do so. It was thick and wavy, and, well, somehow it felt too intimate, touching it. It’d been a while since he’d run his fingers through a woman’s hair, which he definitely wasn’t doing right now, but the thought of wanting to bothered him.

By the status of her black eye, it’d been there a few days and definitely looked ugly and intentional. Someone had punched her. That was a fact. There was that anger again, flaming out of nowhere for a woman he knew zero about.

He decided to insert a hep-lock into her antecubital fossa so the clinic would have a line ready to go on arrival. A head injury could increase cranial pressure and so could IV fluid. He didn’t want to add to that, and so far her blood pressure was within normal limits. While he performed the tasks he thought about everything that had happened to his patient prior to winding up in that alley.

She’d gotten off the bus and hadn’t waited to collect a suitcase, which meant all she’d carried with her was in that large shoulder bag. And that was long gone with the punk who’d knocked her cold and jumped the wall. He tightened his fists. What he’d give to deck that guy and leave him in some alley.

If Joe added up the clues he’d guess that the lovely Sleeping Jane was running from whoever had bruised her arms and blackened her eye. She’d probably grabbed whatever she could and snuck away from...

“Who are you?” Joe asked quietly, wondering if she could hear him, knowing that unconscious people sometimes still heard what went on around them. “Where did you come from?”

He lifted one of her hands, that fierce sense of protectiveness returning, and held it in his, noticing the long thin fingers with carefully manicured but unpainted nails, and made another silent vow. Don’t worry, I’ll look out for you. You don’t have to be afraid where I’m taking you.

* * *

They arrived at The Hollywood Hills Clinic, nestled far beneath the Hollywood sign at the end of narrow winding roads with occasional hairpin turns. The swanky private clinic that hugged the hillside always reminded him of something Frank Lloyd Wright might have designed for the twenty-first century, if he were still alive. The stacked boxy levels of the modern stone architecture, nearly half of it made of special earthquake-resistant glass, looked like a diamond in the night on the hillside. Warm golden light glowed from every oversized window, assuring the private clinic was open twenty-four hours. For security and privacy purposes, there were tall fences out front, and a gate every vehicle had to clear, except for ambulances. They breezed through as soon as the gate opened completely.

Benny headed toward the private patient loading area at the back of the building. Joe put his shirt back on and gingerly buttoned it over his bandaged and stinging rib cage.

He still couldn’t believe his good fortune over landing the bid as the private ambulance company for James Rothsberg’s clinic only two short years after starting his own business. He’d been an enterprising twenty-three-year-old paramedic with a plan back then, thanks to a good mind for business instilled in him by his hard-working father. James must have seen something about him he liked when he’d interviewed him and Joe had tendered his bid. Or maybe it had had more to do with the nasty info leak the previous ambulance company had been responsible for, exposing several of the A-list actors in the biz on a TV gossip show, making Joe’s timing impeccable. He used to think of it as fate.

James’s parents—Michael Rothsberg and Aubrey St. Claire—had had enough info leaks in their lives to fill volumes. Everyone, even Joe, remembered the scandal, and he’d only been in his early teens at the time. Their stories had made headlines on every supermarket rag and cable TV talk show. Everyone knew about their private affairs. After all, James’s parents had been Hollywood royalty, and had been two of the highest-paid actors in the business. Watching them fall from grace had become a national pastime after a nasty kiss-and-tell book by an ex-lover had outed them as phonies. Their marriage had been a sham, and their teenage children, James and Freya, had suffered most.

James had told Joe on the day he’d hired him that loyalty to the clinic and the patients was the number-one rule, he wouldn’t tolerate anything less, and Joe had lived up to that pledge every single day he’d shown up to work. He’d walked out of James’s office that day thinking fate was on his side and he was the luckiest man on earth, but he too would soon experience his own fall. Like James, it hadn’t been of his own making but that didn’t mean it had hurt any less.

These days Joe didn’t believe in fate or luck. No, he’d changed his thinking on that and now, for him, everything happened for a reason. Even his damned infertility, which he was still trying to figure out. He glanced at the hand where his wedding ring had once been but didn’t let himself go there, instead focusing on the positive. The here and now. The new contract. His job security.

The clinic had opened its doors six years ago, and two years later, right around the time James’s sister Freya had joined the endeavor, Joe’s private ambulance service had been the Rothsbergs’ choice for replacement. Having just signed a new five-year contract with the clinic, Joe almost thought of himself as another Hollywood success story. Hell, he was only twenty-eight, owned his own business, and worked for the most revered clinic in town.

But how could he call it true success when the rest of his life was such a mess?

James Rothsberg himself met the ambulance, along with another doctor and a couple of nurses, and Joe prepared to transfer his sleeping beauty.

A little bit taller than Joe, James’s strong and well-built frame matched Joe’s on the fitness scale. Where they parted ways was in the looks department. The son of A-list actors, James was what the gossip magazines called “an Adonis in scrubs”. Yeah, he was classy, smooth and slick. He was the man every woman dreamed of and every man wanted to be, and Joe wasn’t afraid to admit he had a man crush on the guy. Strictly platonic, of course, based on pure admiration. The doctor ran the lavish clinic for the mind-numbingly affluent, who flocked to him, eager to pay the price for his plastic surgery services. Well, someone had to support the outrageously luxurious clinic and the well-paid staff. In fact, someone on staff had recently commented after a big awards ceremony that half of the stars in attendance had been through the clinic’s doors. A statement that wasn’t far from the truth.

“James, what are you still doing here?”

“You piqued my interest,” James said. “I had to see Jane Doe for myself.”

Joe pushed the gurney out of the back of the ambulance, and Rick, one of the evening nurses, pulled from the other end.

James studied Jane Doe as she rolled by. “She didn’t get that shiner tonight.”

“Nope,” Joe said. “There’s a whole other story that went down before she got mugged.”

James nodded agreement. “That reminds me, I got a call from the police department. They’ll be here shortly to take your statement.” He tugged Joe by the arm. “Let’s take a look at your injury before they get here, okay?”

Joe was torn between looking after Sleeping Beauty or himself, but knew the clinic staff would give her the utmost medical attention. Besides, it wasn’t every day the head of the clinic offered to give one-to-one patient care to an employee.

“Thanks, Doc. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s totally selfish. I’ve got to look out for my lead paramedic, right?” James said in a typically self-deprecating manner. That was another thing he liked so much about the guy. He never flaunted his wealth or his status.

Joe glanced across the room at the star patient of the night, Ms. Jane Doe, still unconscious but breathing steadily, and felt a little tug in his chest, then followed James into an examination room.

After the nursing assistant removed Joe’s dressing, James studied it. “So what happened here?”

Joe explained what had transpired in the alley as the doctor applied pressure to one area that continued to bleed.

“Oh, you’re definitely getting a tetanus shot. Who knows what was on that guy’s blade.”

“Well, he was a scumbag.”

“Good thing you’ve got a trained plastic surgeon to stitch you up. I’d hate to ruin those perfect washboard abs.”

Joe laughed, knowing his rigorous workout sessions plus boxing kept him fit. Boxing had been the one thing he could do to keep sane and not beat the hell out of his best friend during his divorce. “Ouch,” he said, surprised by how sensitive his wound was as the nursing assistant cleaned the skin.

“Ouch!” he repeated, when the first topical anesthetic was injected by James.

The doctor chuckled. “Man up, dude. I’m just getting started.”

That got an ironic laugh out of Joe. Yeah, sterile dude, man up!

“You won’t be feeling much in a couple of minutes.”

Joe knew the drill, he’d sutured his share of patients in his field training days, but this was the first time in his entire life he’d been the patient in need of stitches. Hell, he’d never even needed a butterfly bandage before.

“So, about the girl with the black eye,” James said, donning sterile gloves while preparing the small sterile minor operations tray. “I wonder if she may have had any prior intracranial injuries that might have contributed to her immediately falling unconscious.”

“I was wondering the same thing, but she hit that pavement really hard. I hope she doesn’t have a subdural hematoma.”

“We’re doing a complete head trauma workup on her.”

“Thanks. I know this probably sounds weird, but I feel personally responsible for her, having seen the whole thing go down, not getting there fast enough, and being the first to treat her and all. Especially since she doesn’t have any ID.”

“You broke a rule, right? Got involved with your patient?”

“Didn’t mean to, but I guess you could say that. I know it’s foolish—”

James turned back toward him. “And this might be foolish too, but when the police come we’ll tell them we’ll be treating and letting our Jane Doe recover right here.”

Touched beyond words, as the cost for staying at this exclusive clinic would be astronomical, Joe wanted to shake the good doctor’s hand but he wore sterile gloves. “Thank you. I really—” He was about to say “appreciate that” but quickly went quiet, not used to being the patient as the first stitch was placed, using a nasty-looking hooked needle, and though he didn’t feel anything, he still didn’t want to move.

“If I stitch this up just so, there’ll hardly be a scar. On the other hand, I could make you look like you’ve got a seven pack.”

As the saying went, it only hurt when he laughed.

* * *

A couple of hours later, the police had taken a thorough report, and also told Joe they hadn’t found anyone matching the description a couple of witnesses had given for the suspect, they also said they hadn’t recovered Jane Doe’s purse.

Joe sighed and shook his head. She’d continue to be Madam X until she came to. Which hopefully would be soon.

“We do have one lead, though.”

He glanced up, hopeful whatever that lead was it might point to Jane’s identity.

“The clinic staff found a bus-ticket stub in her sweater pocket. If she used a credit card to purchase the ticket, we might be able to trace it back and identify her.”

“That’s great. But what if she paid cash?”

“That might imply she didn’t want to be traced.”

“Probably explain those bruises, too.”

The cop nodded. “The most we could possibly find out is the origin of the ticket. Which city she boarded in, but she’s bound to wake up soon, right?”

Joe glanced across the room. Jane was now in one of the clinic’s fancy hospital gowns and hooked up to an IV, still looking as peaceful as a sleeping child. “It’s hard to say with concussion and potential brain swelling. The doctors may determine she needs surgery for a subdural hematoma or something, for all I know.”

The young cop looked grim as he considered that possibility, and Joe was grateful for his concern. “Well, we’ll be in touch.” He gave Joe his card. “If she wakes up, or if there’s anything you remember or want to talk about, give me a call. Likewise, I’ll let you know if we find anything out.”

“Thanks.”

An orderly and RN rolled Jane by Joe. “Where’s she going?”

“To her room in the DOU. She’s in Seventeen A.”

The definitive observation unit was for the patients who needed extra care. Dr. Di Williams ran the unit like a well-oiled machine. Jane would be well looked after, but... He made a snap decision—he wasn’t going home tonight. If James and Di would let him, he’d wait things out right here.

Fifteen minutes later, Sleeping Beauty was tucked into a high-end single bed in a room that looked more like one in a luxury spa hotel than a hospital. The only thing giving it away were the bedside handrails and the stack of monitors camouflaged in the corner with huge vases and flower arrangements. The tasteful beige, white and cream decor was relaxing, but Joe couldn’t sleep. Instead, he sat in the super-comfy bedside chair resting his head in the palm of his right hand, watching her sleep. Wondering what her story was, and pondering why he felt so responsible for her. He decided it was because she was completely vulnerable. He knew the feeling. Someone besides a staff nurse had to look out for her until they found out who she was and could locate her family.

Sporting that black eye and those healing bruises on her arms, it was likely she had been in an abusive relationship. Most likely she’d been beaten up by the man she’d thought she loved.

His left thumb flicked the inside of his vacant ring finger, reminding him, on a much more personal level, how deeply love could hurt.

CHAPTER TWO

A FIRM HAND sent Joe out of a half dreaming, half awake state. He’d been smiling, floating around somewhere, smiling. The grip on his shoulder made a burst of adrenaline mainline straight to his heart, making his pulse ragged and shaky. He sat bolt upright, his eyes popping open. In less than a second he remembered where he was, turned his head toward the claw still grabbing him, and stared up at the elderly night nurse.

Cecelia, was it?

“What’s up?” he said, trying to sound awake, then glancing toward the hospital bed and the patient he’d let down by falling asleep. Some guardian he’d turned out to be. She’d been placed on her side, either sound asleep or still unconscious, with pillows behind her back and between her knees, and he hadn’t even woken up.

“Your services are needed,” Cecelia said with a grainy voice. “We have a helicopter transfer to Santa Barbara.”

“Got it. Take care of her.”

“What I’m paid for,” Cecelia mumbled, fiddling with the blanket covering her patient.

Joe stood, took one last look at Jane, who still looked peaceful, and walked to the nearest men’s room to freshen up, then reported for duty in the patient transitioning room.

Rick, the RN from last night, was at the end of his shift and gave Joe his report. “The fifty-four-year-old patient is status post breast reduction, liposuction and lower face lift. Surgery and overnight recovery were uneventful. She’s being transferred to Santa Barbara Cottage Hotel for the remainder of her recovery. IV in right forearm. Last medicated for pain an hour ago with seventy-five milligrams of Demerol. Dressings and drainage tubes in place, no excess bleeding noted. She’s been released by Dr. R. for transfer.” The male RN, fit and overly tanned, making his blue eyes blaze, gave Joe a deadpan stare. “All systems go. She’s all yours.” Then, when out of earshot of the patient, Rick whispered, “I didn’t vote for her husband.”

Joe accompanied the patient and gurney to the waiting helicopter on the roof and loaded the sleeping patient onto the air ambulance. He did a quick head-to-toe assessment before strapping her down and locking the special hydraulic gurney into place. He then made sure any and all emergency equipment was stocked and ready for use. After he hooked up the patient to the heart and BP monitor, he put headphones on his patient first and then himself and took his seat, buckling in, preparing for the noisy helicopter blades to whir to life then takeoff.

After delivering the patient to the Santa Barbara airport and transferring the politician’s wife, who would not be named, to the awaiting recovery hotel team, he hoped to grab some coffee and maybe a quick breakfast while they waited for the okay to take off for the return trip.

Two hours later, back at the clinic, Joe’s only goal was to check in on Jane Doe. He hoped she’d come to and by now maybe everyone knew her name, and he wondered what it might be. Alexis? Belle? Collette? Excitedly he dashed into her room and found her as he’d left her...unconscious. Disappointment buttoned around him like a too-tight jacket.

The day shift nurse was at her side, preparing to give her a bed bath. A basin of water sat on the bedside table with steam rising from the surface. Several towels and cloths and a new patient gown were neatly stacked beside it. A thick, luxurious patient bath blanket was draped across her chest, Sleeping Beauty obviously naked underneath it. He felt the need to look away until the nurse pulled the privacy curtain around the bed.

“No change?” he asked, already knowing and hating the answer.

“No. But her lab results were a bit of a surprise.”

“Everything okay with her skull?”

“Oh, yeah, the CT cranial scan and MRI were both normal except for the fact she’s got one hell of a concussion with brain swelling. Well, along with still being unconscious and a slow-wave EEG to prove it.”

Joe knew the hospital privacy policy, and this nurse wasn’t about to tell him Jane Doe’s lab results. Theoretically it wasn’t any of his business. Except he’d made a vow last night, and had made it his business to look after her. As he hadn’t signed off on his paramedic admission notes for Jane last night, he suddenly needed to access her computer chart to do so.

He headed to the intake department to find a vacant computer, but not before running into James, who looked rested and ready to take on the day. Joe, on the other hand, had gotten a glimpse of himself in the mirror when he’d made a quick pit stop on arriving back at the clinic a few minutes earlier. Dark circles beneath his eyes, a day’s growth of beard... Yeah, he was a mess.

“What are you still doing here?” James asked.

“Just got back from a helicopter run to Santa Barbara for one of your patients.”

“Cecelia told me you stayed here last night.”

Damn that night nurse. “Yeah, well, I wanted to be around if Jane Doe woke up.”

He didn’t look amused. “This is an order, Joe. Go home and get some sleep. Don’t come back until your usual evening shift. Got it?”

“Got it. Just have to sign off my charting first.”

Several staff members approached James with questions, giving Joe the chance to sneak off to the computer. He logged on and quickly accessed Jane Doe’s folder. First he read her CT scan results and the MRI, which were positive for concussion and brain swelling, but without fractures or bleeding, then he took a look at her labs. So far so good. Her drug panel was negative. Good. Her electrolytes, blood glucose, liver and kidney function tests were all within normal limits. Good. Then his gaze settled on a crazy little test result that nearly knocked him out of the chair.

A positive pregnancy test.

His suddenly dry-as-paper tongue made it difficult to swallow. His pulse thumped harder and his mind took a quick spin, gathering questions as it did. Did the mystery lady know she was pregnant? He wondered if the father had been worried out of his mind about her since she’d gone missing. Or was the guy who beat her up the father...because she was pregnant?

Had she been running away? Most likely.

Shifting thoughts made bittersweet memories roll through his mind over another most important pregnancy test. One that had changed his life. He wanted more than anything to make those thoughts stop, knowing they never led to a good place, but right now he was too tired to fight them off.

He’d once been on that pregnancy roller-coaster ride, one day ecstatic about the prospect of becoming a father. Another day further down the line getting a different lab test irrefutably stating there was no way in hell he could have gotten his wife pregnant. Any hope of becoming a father had been ripped away. The questions. The confrontations. The ugly answers that had finally torn his marriage apart.

Hell.

He needed to leave the clinic. James had been right. He should go home and get some sleep because if he didn’t he might do something he still wanted to do desperately. Give his best—strike that—ex-best friend the beating he deserved.

* * *

On the third day Joe sat in his now favorite chair at the mystery lady’s bedside, thumbing through a fitness magazine. Di Williams, the middle-aged, hard-working head of DOU, had shaken him up earlier when she’d explained Sleeping Beauty’s condition as brain trauma—or, in her case, swelling of the brain—that had disconnected the cerebral cortex circuits, kind of like a car idling but not firing up the engine. She’d also said that if she didn’t come around soon, they’d have to consider her in a coma and would need to move her to a hospital that could best meet her longer-term needs.

The thought of losing track of the woman he’d vowed to look after made his stomach knot. The doctor had also said she’d be getting transferred to a specialist coma unit later that afternoon for an enhanced CT scan that would test for blood flow and metabolic activity and they’d have to go from there, which kept Joe’s stomach feeling tangled and queasy.

Time was running out, and it seemed so unfair for the girl from the bus. What about her baby?

Jane moved and Joe went on alert. It was the first time he’d witnessed what the nurses had said she often did. He’d admitted, when no one had been around, to flicking her cheek with his finger from time to time to get some kind of reaction out of her, but nothing had ever happened. The lady definitely wasn’t faking it. She moved again, this time quicker, as though restless. A dry sound emitted from her throat. He held his breath and felt his heart pump faster as he pushed the call light for the attending nurse.

Jane Doe was waking up.

Tiny sputtering electrical fuses seemed to turn on and off inside him as his anticipation grew. He stood, leaned over the hospital bed and watched the sleeping beauty’s lids flutter. Instinctively, he turned off the overhead lamp to help decrease the shock of harsh light to her vision as her eyes slowly opened.

They were dark green. And beautiful, like her.

But they’d barely opened before they snapped shut again as her features contorted with fear.

* * *

Carey fought for her life, flailing her arms, kicking her feet. Someone wanted to hurt her. It wasn’t Ross. Not this time. She ran, but her feet wouldn’t move. She tried to scream, but the sound didn’t leave her throat. Fear like she’d never felt before consumed her, but she couldn’t give up, she had to protect herself in order to protect her baby.

Someone shouted and ran toward her. She knew he wanted to help. Broad shoulders, and legs moving in a powerful sprint. “Hey!” His voice cut through the night. That face. Strong. Determined. Filled with anger over the man trying to take her purse. She fought more. She had to break away from the smelly man’s grip.

“Hey!”

Fight. Fight. Get away.

“Hold on, everything’s okay. You’re safe.” Did she recognize the man’s voice? “I’ve got you.” Hands gripped her shoulders, kept her still. She held her breath.

More hands smoothed back her hair. “It’s okay, hon.” A woman’s voice. “Calm down. You’re in the hospital.”

Hospital? Had she heard right?

Carey shook her head. It hurt. She was hit by a wave of vertigo that made her quit squirming. She lay still, waiting for the hands to release her. It felt like she was in an extremely comfortable bed. She relaxed her tight, squinting eyes and slowly opened first one then the other. She turned her head to a shadow looming above her. It had features. The face she remembered from her dreams. Strong. Brave. Was this still a dream?

She stared at him, her breathing rapid, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. He was the man who’d taken on her attacker. She scanned his face. Kind brown eyes. Short dark hair. A square jaw. Good looking.

“You’re in the hospital and you’re safe,” he said in a low, comforting voice.

She looked beyond him to a gorgeous room. A hospital? It looked more like an expensive hotel with muted colors and modern furniture, chic, classy, a room she’d never been able to afford in her life. Was she still dreaming? Since she’d stopped protesting, it was quiet. Oh, and there was an IV in her arm. Being an RN herself, she recognized that right off. A catheter between her legs? And she wore a hospital gown. But this one was silky and smooth, not one of those worn-out over-starched jobs at the hospital where she worked.

Everything was so strange. Surreal. As she gathered her senses she couldn’t remember where she was other than being in a hospital. She couldn’t figure out why she’d be here. Wait. Someone had attacked her. She’d been pushed down. Oh, no! Her hand flew to her stomach, and she gasped.

“My baby!” Her voice sounded muffled and strange, as if her ears were plugged.

“Your baby’s fine,” the woman said. “So you remember you’re pregnant.”

Her hearing improved. She nodded, and it hurt, but she smiled anyway because her baby was fine.

The attractive young man smiled back at her, and the concern in his eyes was surprising. Did she know him?

“My baby’s fine,” she whispered to him, and a rush of feelings overcame her until she cried.

Then the strangest thing happened. The man that she wasn’t sure if she knew or not, the man with the kind brown eyes...his welled up, too. “Your baby’s fine.” His voice sounded raspy.

She cried softly for a few moments, his eyes misty and glistening as he gave a caring smile, and it felt so good.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital, hon,” the nearby nurse said.

“But where am I?”

“Hollywood,” he said. “You’re in California.”

She thought hard, vaguely remembering getting on a bus. Getting off a bus. It was all too much to straighten out right now. She was exhausted.

“What’s your name, honey?” The nurse continued.

“Carey Spencer.” At least she remembered her name. But she needed to rest. To close her eyes and...

“She’s out again.” The kind man’s voice sounded far, far away.

“That’s what happens sometimes with head injuries,” the nurse replied.

* * *

Dr. Williams cancelled the plan to transfer her to a coma unit since it was clear Carey Spencer was waking up. Joe assigned another paramedic to cover his shift and stayed by her bedside, hoping to be there when she woke up again. The next time, hopefully, would be permanently. He had dozed off for a second.

“Where am I?” Her voice.

Had he slept a few minutes?

He forced open his eyes and faced Carey as she sat up in the bed, propped by several pillows. Her hair fell in a tangle of waves over her shoulders. Those dark green eyes flashed at him. She’d already figured out how to use the hand-held bed adjuster. “Where am I?” she asked more forcefully.

He’d told her earlier, but she’d suffered a head trauma, her brain was all jumbled up inside. Because of the concussion she might forget things for a long time to come. She deserved the facts.

“You’re in the hospital in Hollywood, California. You got off a cross-country bus the other night. Do you remember where you came from?”

“I don’t want anyone contacting my family.”

He rang for the nurse. “We won’t contact anyone unless you tell us to.”

“I’m from Montclare, Illinois. It’s on the outskirts of Chicago.”

“Okay. Are you married?”

She shook her head, then looked at him tentatively. “I’m pregnant.” Her eyes captured his and he could tell she remembered they’d gotten emotional together earlier when she’d woken up before. “And my baby’s okay.” She gave a gentle smile and odd protective sensations rippled over him. Those green eyes and the dark auburn hair. Wow. Her blackened eye may have been healing, but even with the shiner she was breathtaking. In his opinion anyway.

“Yes. Everything is okay in that department. How far along are you? Do you know?”

“Three months.”

“And you came here on the bus for...?”

She hesitated. “Not for. To get away.” She lifted her arms, covered in fading bruises. “I needed to get away.”

“I understand.” The uncompromising need to protect her welled up full force again. “Are you in trouble?”

She shook her head, then looked like it hurt to do so and immediately stopped.

The nurse came in, and asked Joe to leave so she could assess her patient and attend to her personal needs. He headed toward the door.

“Wait!” she said.

He turned.

“What’s your name?”

“I’m Joseph Matthews. I’m the paramedic who brought you here.”

“Thank you, Joseph. I owe you my life. And my baby’s,” she said from behind the privacy curtain.

He stared at his work boots, an uncertain smile creasing his lips. She certainly didn’t owe him her life, but he was awfully glad to have been on scene the night she’d needed him.

The police were notified, and Joe didn’t want to stick around where he had no business, though in his heart he felt he deserved to know the whole story, so he went back to work. Around ten p.m., nearing the end of his shift, James approached. “Did you know she’s a nurse?”

“I didn’t. Interesting.”

“She won’t tell us how she got all banged up, but the fact she doesn’t want us to contact the father of the baby explains that, doesn’t it.”

“Sadly, true.”

“So, since she’s recovering, if all goes well after tonight, I’m going to have to discharge her.”

Startled by the news, Joe wondered why it hadn’t occurred to him before. Of course she couldn’t live here at the clinic. Her identity had been stolen along with her purse and any money she may have had in it. She was pregnant and alone in a strange city, and he couldn’t very well let her become homeless, too. Hell, tomorrow was Sunday! “I’ve got an extra room. I could put her up until she gets back on her feet.”

Joe almost did a second take, hearing himself make the offer, but when he thought more about it, he’d meant it. Every word. Even hoped she’d take him up on it.

“That’s great,” James said. “Though she may feel more comfortable staying with one of our nurses.”

“True. Dumb idea, I guess.”

“Not dumb. Pretty damn noble if you ask me. I’ll vouch for you being a gentleman.” James cast him a knowing smile and walked away.

Joe fought the urge to rush to Carey’s room. She’d been through a lot today, waking up after a three-day sleep and all, and probably had a lot of thinking and sorting out to do. The social worker would be pestering her about her lost identification and credit cards and helping straighten out that mess. The poor woman’s already bruised brain was probably spinning.

He needed to give her space, not make her worry he was some kind of weird stalker or something. But he wanted to tell her good night so he hiked over to the DOU and room Seventeen A, knocked on the wall outside the door, and when she told him to come in, he poked his head around the corner.

“Just wanted to say good night.”

She seemed much less tense now and her smile came easily. She was so pretty, the smile nearly stopped him in his tracks. “Good night. Thanks for everything you’ve done for me.”

“Glad to be of service, Carey.”

“They’re going to let me go tomorrow.”

“Do you have a place to stay?”

“Not yet. Social Services is looking into something.”

He walked closer to her bed and sat on the edge of his favorite chair. “I...uh...I have a two-bedroom house in West Hollywood. It’s on a cul-de-sac, and it’s really safe. Uh, the thing is, if you don’t have any place to go, you can use my spare room. It’s even got a private bathroom.”

“You’ve done so much for me already. I couldn’t—”

“Just until you get back on your feet. Uh, you know. If you want. That is.” Why did he sound like a stammering, yammering teenager asking a girl on a date? That wasn’t what he’d had in mind. He just wanted to help her. That was all.

She was the vision of a woman trying to make up her mind. Judging him on whether she could trust him or not, and from her recent experience Joe could understand why she might doubt herself. “Um, Dr. Rothsberg will vouch for me.”

“I’ll vouch for who?” James walked in on their awkward moment.

“I was just inviting Carey to stay in my spare room, if she needs a place to stay for a while.”

James nailed Carey with his stare. “He’s a good man. You can trust him.” Then he turned and faced Joe and looked questioning. “I think.”

That got a laugh out of Carey, and Joe shook his head. Guys loved to mess with each other.

“Okay, then,” she said, surprising the heck out of Joe.

“Okay?”

“Yes. Thank you.” The woman truly knew how to be gracious, and for that he was grateful.

He smiled. “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” It was his day off, but he’d be back here in a heartbeat when she was ready for discharge.

He turned to leave, unusually happy and suddenly finding the need to rush home and clean the house.

CHAPTER THREE

JOE HAD WORKED like a fiend to clean his house that morning before he went to the clinic to bring Carey back. He’d gotten her room prepared and put his best towels into the guest bathroom, wanting her to feel at home. He’d stocked the bathroom with everything he thought she might need from shampoo to gentle facial soap, scented body wash, and of course a toothbrush and toothpaste. Oh, and a brush for that beautiful auburn hair.

Aware that Carey only had the clothes on her back, he’d pegged her to be around his middle sister Lori’s size and had borrowed a couple pairs of jeans and tops. Boy, he’d had a lot of explaining to do when he’d asked, too, since Lori was a typical nosy sister, especially since his divorce.

Once, while Carey had been sleeping in the clinic, he’d checked the size of her shoes and now he hoped she wouldn’t mind that he’d bought her a pair of practical ladies’ slip-on rubber-soled shoes and some flip-flops, because she couldn’t exactly walk around in those sexy boots all the time. Plus, flip-flops were acceptable just about everywhere in Southern California. He was grateful some of the nurses had bought her a package of underwear and another bra—he’d heard that through the grapevine, thanks to Stephanie, the gossipy receptionist at The Hollywood Hills Clinic, who’d said she’d gone in on the collection of money for said items.

Now he waited in the foyer for the nurse or orderly to bring Carey around for discharge, having parked his car in the circular driveway. Careful not to say anything to Stephanie about the living arrangements, knowing that if he did so the whole clinic would soon find out, he smiled, assured her that Social Services had arranged for something, and with crossed arms tapped his fingers on his elbows, waiting.

She rounded the corner, being pushed in a wheelchair—clinic policy for discharges, regardless of how well the patient felt, but most especially for someone status post-head injury like her. She was dressed the way he’d first seen her last Wednesday night, and she trained her apprehensive glance straight at him. Even from this distance he noticed those dark green eyes, and right now they were filled with questions. Yeah, it would be weird to bring a strange lady into his home, especially one who continuously made his nerve endings and synapses react as if she waved some invisible magnetic wand.

He wanted to make her feel comfortable, so he smiled and walked to pick up the few things she had stuffed into a clinic tote bag, a classier version of the usual plastic discharge bags from other hospitals he’d worked at. It was one of the perks of choosing The Hollywood Hills Clinic for medical care, though in her case she hadn’t had a choice.

* * *

It was nothing short of a pure leap of faith, going home with a complete stranger like this, Carey knew, but her options were nil and, well, the guy had cried with her that first day in the hospital when she’d woken up. The only thing that had mattered to her after the mugging was her baby, and when she’d been reassured it was all right, she’d been unable to hold back the tears. Joseph Matthews was either the easiest guy crier she’d ever met or the most empathetic man on the planet. Either way, it made him special. She had to remember that. Plus he’d saved her life. She’d never forget that.

When Dr. Rothsberg had vouched for him, and she’d already noticed how everyone around the clinic seemed to like the guy, she’d made a snap decision to take the paramedic up on his offer. But, really, where else did she have to go, a homeless shelter? She’d been out of touch with her parents for years and Ross was the reason she’d run away. She had zero intention of contacting any of them.

Recent history proved she couldn’t necessarily trust her instincts, but she still had a good feeling about the paramedic.

When they first left the clinic parking lot Joseph slowed down so she could look back and up toward the hillside to the huge Hollywood sign. Somehow it didn’t seem nearly as exciting as she’d thought it would be. Maybe because it hurt to turn her head. Or maybe because, being that close, it was just some big old white letters, with some parts in need of a paint touch-up. Now she sat in his car, her head aching, nerves jangled, driving down a street called Highland. Having passed the Hollywood Bowl and going into the thick of Hollywood, she admitted to feeling disappointed. Where was the magic? To her it was just another place with crowded streets in need of a thorough cleaning.

It was probably her lousy mood. She’d never planned on visiting California. She’d been perfectly happy in Montclare. She’d loved her RN job, loved owning her car, being independent for the first time in her life. She still remembered the monumental day she’d gotten the key to her first apartment and had moved out once and for all from her parents’ house. Life had been all she’d dreamed it would be, why would she ever need to go to Hollywood?

Then she’d met Ross Wilson and had thought she’d fallen in love, until she’d realized too late what kind of man he really was.

Nope. She’d come to Hollywood only because it had been the first bus destination she’d found out of Chicago. For her it hadn’t been a matter of choice, but a matter of life and death.

* * *

Back at his house, Joe gave Carey space to do whatever she needed to do to make herself at home in her room. She’d been so quiet on the ride over, he was worried she was scared of him. He’d probably need to tread lightly until she got more comfortable around him. He thought about taking off for the afternoon, giving her time to herself, but, honestly, he worried she might bolt. Truth was, he didn’t know what she might do, and his list of questions was getting longer and longer. All he really knew for sure was that he wanted to keep her safe.

The first thing he heard after she’d gone to her room had been the shower being turned on, and the image that planted in his head needed to be erased. Fast. So he decided to work out with his hanging punchbag in his screened-in patio, which he used as a makeshift gym. He changed clothes and headed to the back of the house, turned on a John Coltrane set, his favorite music to hit the bag with, and got down to working out.

With his hands up, chin tucked in, he first moved in and out around the bag, utilizing his footwork, warming up, moving the bag, pushing it and dancing around, getting his balance. With bare hands he threw his first warm-up punches, slap, slap, slap, working the bag, punching more. The stitches across his rib cage pulled and stung a little, but probably wouldn’t tear through his skin. Though after the first few punches he checked to make sure. They were healing and held the skin taut that was all.

As his session heated up, so did the wild saxophone music. He pulled off his T-shirt and got more intense, beating the hell out of the innocent bag where he mentally pasted every wrong the world had ever laid at his feet. His wife sleeping with his best friend, the lies about her baby being his. The divorce. He worked through the usual warm-up, heating up quickly. Then he pounded that bag for women abused by boyfriends and innocent victims who got mugged after getting off buses. Wham. He hit that bag over and over, pummeling it, his breath huffing, sweat flying. Thump, bam, whump!

“Excuse me, Joseph?”

Jolted, he halted in mid-punch, first stabilizing the punchbag so it wouldn’t swing back and hit him, then shifted his gaze toward Carey. She had on different jeans, and one of his sister’s bright pink cotton tops, and her wet hair was pulled up into a ponytail, giving her a wholesome look. Which he thought was sexy.

“Oh. Hey. Call me Joe. Everything okay?” he asked, out of breath.

“That music sounds like fighting.” She had to raise her voice to be heard over the jazz.

“Oh, sorry, let me turn it off.” That’s why he liked to work out with Coltrane, it got wild and crazy, often the way he felt.

Her gaze darted between his naked torso and his sweaty face. “I was just wondering if I could make a sandwich.”

“Of course. Help yourself to anything. I’ve got cold cuts in the fridge. There’s some fruit, too.”

“Thanks.” Her eyes stayed on his abdomen and he felt the need to suck it in, even though he didn’t have a gut. “You know you’re bleeding?”

He glanced down. Sure enough, he’d tugged a stitch too hard and torn a little portion of his skin. “Oh. Didn’t realize.” He grabbed his towel and blotted it quickly.

“Did you get hurt when you helped me?”

“Yeah, the jerk sliced me with his knife.” Still blotting, he looked up.

Her eyes had gone wide. “You risked your life for me? I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, I didn’t risk my life.” Had he? “I was just doing my job.”

“Do paramedics usually fight guys with blades in their hands?”

“Well, maybe not every day, but it could happen.” He flashed a sheepish grin over the bravado. “At least, it has now.”

Her expression looked so sad he wanted to hug her, but they hardly knew each other.

“Thank you.” He sensed she also meant she was sorry.

“Not a problem. Glad to do it.” He waited to capture her eyes then nodded, wanting to make sure she understood she deserved nothing less than someone saving her from an alley attacker. They stood staring at each other for a moment or two too long, and since he was the one who always got caught up in the magic of her eyes, she looked away first. Standing in his boxing shorts, shirtless, he felt like he’d been caught naked winning that staring match.

“So...I’m going to make that sandwich.” She pointed toward the door then led into the small kitchen, just around the corner from the dining area and his patio, while he assessed his stitches again. Yeah, he’d taken a knife for her, but the alternative, her getting stabbed by a sleazebag and maybe left to die, had been unacceptable.

The woman had a way of drumming up forgotten protective feelings and a whole lot more. Suddenly the house felt way too small for both of them. How was he going to deal with that while she stayed here?

Maybe one last punch to the bag then he promised to stop. Thump! The stitches tugged more and smarted. He hated feeling uncomfortable in his own house and blamed it on the size. He’d thought about selling it after Angela had agreed to leave, but the truth was he liked the neighborhood, it was close enough to work, and most of his family lived within a ten-mile radius. And why should he have to change his life completely because his wife had been unfaithful? Okay, one last one-two punch. Whump, thump. Ouch, my side. He grabbed his towel again and rubbed it over his wringing-wet hair.

One odd thought occurred to him as he dried himself off. When was the last time a woman had seen him shirtless? His ex-wife Angela had left a year ago, and was a new mother now. Good luck with that. He hadn’t brought anyone home since she’d left, choosing to throw himself into his expanding business and demanding job rather than get involved with any poor unsuspecting women. He was angry at the world for being sterile, and angrier at the two people he’d trusted most, his wife and his best friend. Where was a guy supposed to go from there? Ah, what the hell. He punched the bag again. Wham thud wham.

“Would you like a sandwich?”

Not used to hearing a female voice in his house, it startled him from his down spiraling thoughts. A woman, a complete stranger no less, was going to be staying here for an indeterminate amount of time. Had he been crazy to offer? Two strangers in an eleven-hundred-square-foot house. That was too damn close, with hardly a way to avoid each other. Hell, their bedrooms were only separated by a narrow hallway and the bathrooms. What had he been thinking? His stomach growled. On the upside, she’d just offered to make him a sandwich.

Besides everything he was feeling—the awkwardness, the getting used to a stranger—he could only imagine she felt the same. Except for the unwanted attraction on his part, he was quite sure that wasn’t an issue for her—considering her situation, she must feel a hell of a lot more vulnerable. He needed to be on his best behavior for Carey. She deserved no less.

“Yes, thanks, a sandwich sounds great.” Since the bleeding had stopped, he tossed on his T-shirt after wiping his chest and underarms, then joined her in the kitchen.

“Do you like lettuce and tomato?”

“Whatever you’re having is fine. I’m easy.” His hands hung on to both sides of the towel around his neck.

“I never got morning sickness, like most women do. I’ve been ravenous from the beginning, so you’re getting the works.”

She was tallish and slender, without any sign of being pregnant, and somehow he found it hard to believe she ate too much. “Sounds good. Hey, I thought I’d barbecue some chicken tonight. You up for that?”

She turned and shared a shy smile. “Like I said, I’m always hungry, so it sounds good to me.”

He got stuck on the smile that delivered a mini sucker punch and didn’t answer right away. “Okay. It looks like it’ll be nice out, so I thought we could eat outdoors on the deck.” He needed to put some space between them, and it wouldn’t feel as close or intimate out there. Just keep telling yourself she’s wearing your sister’s clothes. Your sister’s clothes.

He’d done a lot with his backyard, putting in a garden and lots of shrubbery for privacy’s sake from his neighbors, plus he’d built his own cedar-plank deck and was proud of how it’d turned out. It had been one of the therapeutic projects he’d worked on during the divorce.

The houses had been built close together in this neighborhood back in the nineteen-forties. He liked to refer to it as his start-up house, had once planned to start his family in it, too. Too bad it had been someone else’s family that had gotten started here.

Fortunately, Carey interrupted his negative thoughts again jabbing a plate with a sandwich into his side. He took the supremely well-stacked sandwich and grabbed some cold water from the refrigerator, raised the bottle to see if she’d like one. Without a word she nodded, and put her equally well-stacked sandwich on a second plate. As he walked to the dining table with the bottles in one hand and his sandwich in the other, he called out, “Chips are on the counter.”

“Already found them,” she said, appearing at the table, hands full with food and potato-chips bag, knocking him over the head with her smile—how much could a lonely man take? Obviously she was ready to eat.

It occurred to him they had some natural communication skills going on, and the thought made him uneasy. Beyond uneasy to downright uncomfortable. He clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to communicate with a woman ever again. At least not yet, anyway, but since he’d just had a good workout and he was hungry, starved, in fact, he’d let his concerns slide. For now. Carey proved to be a woman of her word, too, matching him bite for bite. Yeah, she could put it away.

After they’d eaten, Carey asked to use his phone to make some calls.

“What’d I say earlier? Mi casa es su casa. It’s a California rule. Make yourself at home, okay?” Though he said it, he wasn’t anywhere near ready to meaning it.

“But it’s long distance.”

“I know you’ve got a lot of things to work out. All your important documents were stolen.” This, helping her get her life back in order, he could do. The part of living with a woman again? Damn, it was hard. Sometimes, just catching the scent of her shampoo when she walked past seemed more than he could take.

“The clinic social worker has been helping me, and my credit cards have been cancelled now. But I couldn’t even order new ones because I didn’t have an address to send them to.”

“You’ve got one now.” He looked her in the eyes, didn’t let her glance away. He’d made a promise to himself on her behalf that he’d watch over her, take care of her. It had to do with finding her completely helpless in that alley and the fierce sense of protectiveness he’d felt. “You can stay here as long as you need to. I’m serious.”

She sent him a disbelieving look. In it Joe glimpsed how deeply some creep back in Illinois had messed her up and it made him want to deck the faceless dude. But he also sensed something else behind her disbelief. “Thank you.”

“Sure. You’re welcome.” Though she only whispered the reply, he knew without a doubt she was really grateful to be here, and that made the nearly constant awkward feelings about living with a complete stranger, a woman more appealing than he cared to admit, worth it.

* * *

Later, over dinner on the deck in the backyard, Joe sipped a beer and Carey lemonade. Her hair was down now, and she’d put on the sweater she’d worn that first night over his sister’s top. In early June, the evenings were still cool, and many mornings were overcast with what they called “June gloom” in Southern California. She’d spent the entire dinner asking about his backyard and job, which were safe topics, so it was fine with him. Since she’d been asking so many questions, he got up the nerve to ask her one of the several questions he had for her. Also within the safe realm of topics—work.

“I heard at the clinic that you’re a nurse?”

She looked surprised. “Yes. That was the call I made earlier, to the hospital where I worked. I guess you could say I’m now officially on a leave of absence.”

“So you’ll probably go back there when you feel better?” Why did this question, and her possible answer, make him feel both relief and dread? He clenched his jaw, something he’d started doing again since Carey had moved in.

She grimaced. “I can’t. I’ll have to quit at some point, but for now I’m using the sick leave and vacation time I’ve saved up and, I hope you don’t mind, I gave them your address so they could mail my next check to me here.”

“Remember. Mi casa es tuya.” He took another drag on his longneck, meaning every word in the entire extent of his Spanish speaking, but covering for the load of mixed-up feelings that kept dropping into his lap. What was it about this girl that made him feel so damn uncomfortable?

His practiced reply got a relieved smile out of her, and he allowed himself to enjoy how her eyes slanted upward whenever she did. It was dangerous to notice things like that and, really, what was the point? But having the beer had loosened him up and he snuck more looks than usual at her during dinner. “The clinic is always looking for good nurses. What’s your specialty?”

“I work, or I should say worked, in a medical-surgical unit. I loved it, too.”

“See...” he pointed her way “...that would fit right in. When you feel better, maybe you should look into it. I can talk to James about it if you’d like.” Yeah, keep these interactions all about helping her, and maybe she’ll skip the part about asking you about yourself.

“James?”

“Dr. Rothsberg.”

“First I have to get my RN license reissued from Illinois since it was stolen along with everything else.”

So maybe she did have plans to stay here and seek employment. Now he could get confused again and try to ignore that flicker of hope he’d kept feeling since she’d walked into his life. He ground his molars. “Would your license be accepted in California?”

“I did some research on the bus ride out and I’ll have to apply here in California. That’ll take some time, I suspect.”

“Well, I’m working days tomorrow, so you can spend the whole day using my computer and phone and maybe start straightening out everything you need to.”

She nodded. “I do have some people I owe a call.” Deep in thought, she probably went straight to the gazillion things she’d have to do to re-create herself and begin a new life for her and her baby in a new state. He wouldn’t want to be in her shoes, and wished he could somehow help even more. Would that go beyond his promise to watch over her?

At least the social worker and the police department had started the ball rolling on a few things. But, man, what a mess she had to clean up, especially since she hadn’t wanted her family notified of her whereabouts. Why was that?

Joe wanted to ask her about her living situation back home, but suspected she’d shut down on him like a trapdoor if he did this soon, so he tucked those questions into his “bring up later” file. With an ironic inward laugh, he supposed they had a lot in common, not wanting to bring up the past and all. “You feel like watching a little TV?” He figured she could use something to distract her from all the things she’d have to tackle tomorrow.

“I’d like that but only after you let me clean up from dinner.”

“Only if you’ll let me help.” Hell, could they get any more polite?

She smiled. “So after we do the dishes, what would you like to watch?”

“You choose.” Yeah, he’d let his guest make all the decisions tonight. It was the right thing to do.

“I like that show about zombies.”

“Seriously?” He never would have pegged her as a horror fan. “It’s my favorite, too, but I didn’t think it would be good for your bambino.”

“Ha,” she said, picking up the dishes from the bench table on the outdoor deck. “After what this little one has been through already, a pretend TV show should be a walk in the park.” She glanced down at her stomach while heading inside and toward the kitchen. “Isn’t that right, sweetie pie.”

There he went grinding his molars again. He followed her in and watched her put the dishes on the counter and unconsciously pat her abdomen then smile. That simple act sent a flurry of quick memories about Angela and how excited they’d once been when she’d first found out she’d gotten pregnant. They’d been about to give up trying since it had been over a year, had even had fertility tests done. They’d rationalized that because they were both paramedics and under a lot of stress, and he worked extended hours trying to make a good impression with Dr. Rothsberg, that was the reason she’d been unable to get pregnant.

So they’d taken a quickie vacation. Then one day, wham, she magically announced she was expecting. Joe had practically jumped over the moon that night, he’d been so happy. They’d finally start their own version of a big happy family. Since Angela’s body had gotten the hang of getting pregnant, he’d planned to talk her into having a few more kids after this one. He’d walked on air for a couple of months...until his fertility report had dropped into the mailbox. Late. Very, very late.

What a fool he’d been.

Trying to give his overworked jaw a break, Joe went to town scrubbing the grill from the barbecue as if it was a matter of life and death. By the time they’d finished with the cleanup, he didn’t know about Carey any more, but he definitely needed the distraction of some mindless TV viewing.

She sat on the small couch, passing him along the way, and he caught the scent of her shampoo again. It was a fresh, fruity summer kind of smell with a touch of coconut, which when he’d bought it for her had never planned for it to be a minor form of torture.

Mixed up about his feelings for the smart and easygoing nurse from Illinois, he intentionally sat on the chair opposite the couch, not ready to get too close to her again tonight. It brought up too many bad memories, and he so did not want to go there. There was only so much boxing a guy could do in a day. Torture sounded better than reliving his failed marriage. He clicked on the TV right on time for the show they both liked to escape to. If zombies couldn’t make him forget how attracted he was to the lovely stranger living in his house, nothing could.

* * *

Carey put her head on the pillow of the surprisingly comfortable guest bed, thinking it was the first time she could remember feeling safe in ages. Things had gotten super-tense living with Ross those last few weeks, and, talk about the worst timing in the world, she’d gotten pregnant right around the time she’d known she had to leave him.

She didn’t want to think about that now, because it would keep her awake, and she was really tired. It’d felt so normal and relaxing to sit and watch TV with Joe. He’d made the best barbecue chicken she’d ever eaten and she’d made a pig out of herself over the baked potato with all the toppings, but she chalked it up to his making her feel so welcome. The only problem was she couldn’t get the vision of him in his boxing shorts, working out with the punchbag, out of her mind. Wow, his lean body had showcased every muscle in his arms and across his back as he’d punched. His movements had been fluid and nothing short of perfection. Not to mention his washboard stomach and powerful legs. The guy didn’t have an ounce of fat on him.

What on earth was she thinking? Her life was in a shambles. She had an unborn baby to take care of. The last thing she should be thinking about was a man.

A naturally sexy man with kind brown eyes and a voice soothing enough to give her chills. She squeezed her eyes tight and shook her head on the pillow.

When she finally settled down and began to drift off to sleep she realized this was the first day she’d ever felt positive about her and the baby’s future in three months. Things would work out for her, she just knew it. Because she, with the help of Joe, would make sure they did.

A slight smile crossed her lips as a curtain of sleep inched its way down until all was dark and she peacefully crossed into sweet dreams. Thanks to Joe.

CHAPTER FOUR

ON MONDAY, AFTER working all day, Joe insisted Carey come out with him for dinner, which was fine with her because she’d felt kind of cooped up. They ate at a little diner, then he showed her around Santa Monica, like the perfect host. She got the distinct impression it was to get them, and keep them, out of the house, because sometimes things felt too close there.

At least, that’s how it felt for her, and sometimes she sensed it was the same for him. The guy seemed to bite down on his jaw a lot! But she soon ignored her worries about him not wanting her around and went straight to loving seeing the beach and the Pacific Ocean, and especially the Santa Monica pier.

On Tuesday Joe had the day off, and he dutifully took her shopping for more clothes at a place called the Beverly Center. They checked the directory and he guided her to the few stores she’d shown interest in, then he stood outside in the mall area, giving her space to shop. Clearly he wanted nothing to do with helping her choose clothes, rather he just did what he thought he should do out of courtesy to her situation. She protested all the way when he insisted on paying for everything. She sensed his generosity was based on some sense of charitable obligation, and she only accepted his offer when he’d agreed to let her repay him once she was back on her feet. She’d be sure to keep a tally because things were quickly adding up!

Wednesday morning, before he started an afternoon shift, he chauffeured her around to the Department of Motor Vehicles for a temporary driving license, and since she’d received a check from her old job he also helped her open a bank account. She decided the guy was totally committed to helping her, like he’d signed some paper or made some pact to do it. And she certainly appreciated everything he’d done for her, but...

Even though he was easy enough to be around, she felt it was out of total obligation to treat people right in life. Far too often she sensed a disconnect between his courtesy and that safe distance he insisted on keeping between them. Well, if that’s what he wanted, she knew exactly how to live that way. Her parents had, sadly, been perfect role models in that regard.

* * *

Joe got home on Wednesday night to a quiet house. Carey had said hello, but now kept mostly to herself in her room. It made him wonder if he’d done something to offend her. He’d been trying his best to make her feel at home, though admittedly he may have been going about it robotically. But that seemed the only way he could deal with having a woman in his life again. Since he worked the a.m. shift the next day, he didn’t get a chance to ask Carey if he’d put her off or if her withdrawal had nothing to do with him. Something was definitely on her mind, and under the circumstances, being battered, bruised, mugged, homeless, and completely vulnerable, not to mention living with a stranger, he could understand why.

Maybe he’d come off aloof or unapproachable at times. But she had no idea how nearly unbearable it was to fix meals with her when it reminded him how much he missed being married. And having Carey there twenty-four seven, with her friendly smile and naturally sweet ways, was nearly making him come unhinged. She deserved someone to share things with, to talk to, but it couldn’t be him. Nope. He was nowhere near ready or able to be her sounding board. All he’d signed up for was offering her a place to live.

Maybe he could arrange for some follow-up visits with the social worker at the clinic. That way she could get what she wanted and needed and he wouldn’t have to be the person listening. Because when a woman vented, from his past experience with Angela, he knew she always expected something in return. Nope, no way would he unload his lousy past on Carey, no matter how much she might think she wanted him to. The lady had far too much on her plate as it was, and, truthfully, reliving such pain was the last thing he ever wanted to do. The social worker was definitely the right person to step in, and he planned to ask Helena to follow up the next day.

On Thursday evening, Joe came home to find Carey scrubbing the kitchen floor. From the looks of the rest of the house, she’d been cleaning all day.

“What’s up?” he asked.

She was so focused on the floor-scrubbing she didn’t notice him. He stepped closer but not onto the wet kitchen tiles.

“Am I that much of a slob?” he tried to joke, but she didn’t laugh. Something was definitely eating at her. “Carey?”

Finally she heard him and shook her head as if she’d been in a trance and looked at him. “Hi.” Not sounding the least bit enthusiastic.

“Everything okay?”

She stopped pushing the mop handle. “Just trying to pay you back for all you’re doing for me.”

Damn. She may as well have sliced him with a knife. “You don’t have to be my house cleaner, you know.”

“What else can I do?” The obvious “else” not being to sleep together.

Why was that the first thought to come to his mind? Cripes, she had him mixed up. He used her clear frustration as a springboard to what his latest mission on Carey’s behalf had been. “I, uh, spoke to the social worker today—the one who helped you while you were in the hospital—and she said she’d love to keep in touch.” He’d totally reworded their true conversation, trying to make it sound casual, not necessary, but the truth was he’d talked at great length with Helena at work about Carey’s precarious situation. The social worker wanted to keep connected with Carey and promised to call her right away.

“Yes. Thanks. She called earlier today. I’m going to have a phone appointment with her on Monday.”

“That’s great.” He almost said, I hope it helps you snap out of your funk, but kept that thought to himself because a sneaky part of him worried he’d put her there. He knew too well how unhelpful being told to snap out of it could be, especially when a person was nowhere near ready. He would protect Carey in any way he could, and felt she shouldn’t be nervous all the time. But he’d never been in her shoes, and...

Then it dawned on him. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? The woman was a nurse. Nurses were always busy on the job. She was used to helping people, not the other way around. She was probably going crazy with so much time on her hands and nothing to do but watch TV or read while he was away every day. But she’d had a head trauma and needed to heal. “Do you feel ready to go back to work?”

She shifted from being intent on cleaning to suddenly looking deflated. “That’s the thing, I can’t until the California RN license comes through. Plus I still feel foggy-headed from the concussion. At this point I’d worry I might hurt some poor unsuspecting patient or something. But on another level my energy is coming back, and I’m feeling really restless.”

That damn mugger had not only stolen her identity and money but also her confidence. He thought quickly. It was early summer, people went on vacations. “I think there might be some temporary slots to fill in while people go on vacation. Jobs that don’t require a nursing license.”

She stopped mopping and looked at him, definite interest in her eyes.

“For instance, I know of a ward clerk on the second floor who’s getting ready to visit her family back east for two weeks. Maybe you could fill in on something like that. Sort of keep your hand in medicine but in a safer position until you feel back to your old self.”

She rested her chin on the mop handle. “How can I just walk in off the street and expect to get a job in a hospital like The Hollywood Hills Clinic?”

He flashed an overconfident grin he hadn’t used in a long time. “By knowing a guy like me? I could put in a good word to Dr. Rothsberg for you. What do you say?”

The fingers of one hand flew to her mouth as she thought. “That would be great. But it would also mean I’d have to quit my job back home.” Worry returned to her brow.

Joe was sure he was missing out on another story, probably something huge. Like, who she was running away from, and would they come after her? If only he could get her to open up. This was stuff he needed to know if he expected to protect her. Rather than press her right then, he let her finish her task and went to his room. Besides, he needed time to figure things out for himself, like the fact that he both totally looked forward to seeing her each day but dreaded how it made him feel afterwards.

After he changed into workout clothes, he headed to the back porch for some boxing, since it was the one sure way to help him blow off steam. Well into his usual routine, while she was in the other room, watching TV, he wondered if, in fact, the guy who’d given Carey her shiner might come after her, and an idea popped into his head. “Hey, Carey, come out here a minute, would you?”

Within seconds she showed up looking perplexed, and maybe like she’d rather be watching TV. Yeah, she’d probably already had it with living with him.

“Since you were mugged recently, and I’m sure you never want to go through that again, would you like me to show you a couple of moves?”

She looked hesitant, like learning a few self-defense maneuvers might bring back too many bad memories.

“Maybe it’s too soon,” he quickly.

“No, I can’t keep hiding out at your house. I know there’s a bus stop right down at the end of your street, and I shouldn’t be afraid to use it.” She nodded, a flicker of fight in her eyes. “Yeah, show me how I could have kept that creep from dragging me into the alley that night.”

“That’s the attitude,” Joe said with a victorious smile. She smiled back, that spirited flash intensifying.

“Okay.” He clapped his hands once. “I saw the guy grab you by the wrist and pull you away that night. So, first off, a lot of the information that’s on the internet for ladies’ self-defense is bogus. Here’s something that works. When that guy grabbed your wrist, you could have used your other hand to push into his eyes, or, if he wore glasses, you could have gone for his throat. With either move you also could have included a knee to the groin. That stuff hurts the attacker and surprises them. Knocks them off balance. Let me show you.”

He grabbed Carey’s right wrist and immediately felt her tense, making him think maybe he was right and it was too early to do this lesson with her. But he was committed now and pressed on, and she had enough anger in her eyes to put it to good use.

“Okay, use your left hand and go for my face,” He showed her how to make an open, claw-like spread with the fingers and how to jab it at a person’s face to do the most damage. “Get those fingers on my eyes and press with all your might.”

She followed his instructions and went for his eyes.

“Ow!” He reacted and pushed her hand back to keep her from injuring him.

“Sorry!”

“Don’t be sorry, fight for your life. It’s up to me to keep you from hurting me. You just caught me off guard. Got it?”

She gave one firm and committed nod.

“That’s the spirit. If the guy foils that move with his other hand, like I just did, make sure you put your knee to his groin at the same time.” He flashed a charming grin. “Don’t actually do that one now, okay?”

She laughed, and it felt good to get her to relax a little.

“Just knee him in the groin area and later you can practice kneeing the heck out of that boxing bag.”

“Got it, boss.” Yes, she was really into this now.

He said, “Go!” and grabbed her left wrist this time, and she moved like lightning for his face and eyes, driving her knee into his groin at the same time. Being prepared for the move, in case she got overzealous, which she obviously had, he brought his own knee up and across to protect himself, letting her full force hit his thigh. If he hadn’t, he’d have been on his hands and knees, riding out the pain, right now.

He didn’t want to discourage her efforts but, damn, that could have hurt! “Good.” Up close, their eyes locked. He could hear her breathing hard and felt the pulse in her wrist quicken. The fire in her green-eyed stare made him take notice. He stepped back, releasing her wrist. “That was good.”

She rubbed her wrist and searched the floor with her gaze, making a quick recovery. This wasn’t easy to relive, he understood that, but keeping the same thing from ever happening again was more important than her current comfort zone.

“Now do the same thing, going for my throat.” He showed her the wide V of his hand between the thumb and index finger and demonstrated how to drive it into the Adam’s apple area of the attacker’s neck. “Since most guys, like that scumbag the other night, will be taller than you, force your hand upward with all you’ve got. Okay?”

Carey agreed and he immediately grabbed her hand, trying to catch her off guard. Something clicked, like she’d gone back in time. She went into attack mode and because he wasn’t ready for it she got him good in the throat. He coughed and sputtered and backed away to recover, and only then did she realize she’d shifted from demonstration to true life.

“I’m sorry!” she squealed, grabbing her face with her hands, as if just snapping out of a bad dream.

He swallowed, trying to get his voice back. “That’s the way. See how it works? I dropped your hand, and that means you could have run off screaming for help at that point.”

“Oh, Joe.” Carey rushed to him. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.” She touched his shoulder and, without thinking, he reacted by opening his arms. Carey threw her arms around him and squeezed. “Can I get you some water? Anything?”

“Maybe a new throat,” he teased, though he really liked having her arms around him, the realization nearly making him lose his balance. She smelled a hell of a lot better than he did, and up close, like this, her eyes were by far the prettiest he’d ever seen in his life, though fear seemed to have the best of them right now.

Surprised, no, more like stunned by how moved she’d been when grappling with Joe, Carey held him perhaps a second too long. Fear still pounded in her chest. At first the lesson had brought out all the bad memories she’d been trying to force down a few months before leaving home and definitely since coming to Hollywood. Ross had changed from attentive boyfriend to jealous predator. He had frightened her. He’d also grabbed her by the wrist like that on several occasions, each time scaring her into submission. Then the creep at the bus station must have seen her as an easy mark, sensed her fear, and grabbed her the same way, pulling her into the alley.

She hated feeling like a victim!

Anger had erupted as horrible memories had collided with Joe’s grip on her wrist. She’d never be a victim again, damn it. Never. Suddenly fighting for her life all over again, she’d switched to kill mode and had practically pushed his larynx out the back of his neck. Darn it! She hadn’t meant to hurt him, not the man who’d saved her and taken her in, but she clearly had.

Now, being skin to skin with her incredibly fit and appealing roommate had changed the topic foremost in her mind. Being in Joe’s arms wiped out her fear and she shifted from fighting for her life to being completely turned on. What was it about Joe?

So confusing. It wasn’t right.

Obviously her concussion was still messing with her judgment.

In a moment of clarity she broke away and strode to the kitchen to get him a glass of water, trying to recover before she brought it to him.

“What about pepper spray?” She schooled her voice to sound casual, completely avoiding his eyes, as if she hadn’t just survived a flashback and had flung herself into Joe’s arms. There was nothing wrong with a decoy topic to throw him off the scent, right? The man had turned her on simply by touching her. Pitiful. Blame it on the head injury.

“First you have to get it out of your purse, right?”

She nodded, quickly realizing the fault in her premise. He stood shirtless, damp from his workout, skin shiny and all his muscles on display. Cut and ripped. A work of art. She handed him the glass. Thought about handing him his T-shirt so he’d cover up and make her life a little safer for the moment, or less tempting anyway. At least it seemed easier for him to swallow now and that made her grateful she hadn’t caused any permanent damage. Could she have? If so, he’d just given her a huge gift of self-protection. No way would she let herself be a victim. By God, she’d never let anyone hurt her again.

“Plus, I’ve heard about guys who’ve been sprayed and didn’t even react,” he continued. “Also, when you’re scared or nervous, you might spray all over the place and not hit the eyes.”

She kept nodding, watching him, completely distracted by his physique, unable to really listen, wishing she’d brought herself a cool drink too. Surely her head injury had left her brain unbalanced, taking her back to the worst moments in her life one second and then the next rushing into the realm of all things sensual.

“Your hands and your knees are your best defense. Want to practice again?”

She sucked in a breath and shook her head quickly. This was all too confusing. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”

He put down his glass on the nearby table, folded an arm across his middle, rested the other elbow on it and held his chin with his thumb and bent fingers, biting his lower lip and nailing her with a sexy, playful gaze. “Chicken, eh?”

Joe had saved her life. He’d also just given her a great gift of learning self-defense. And there was that sexy sparkle in his eyes right now...

“Are you challenging me?” Suddenly awash with tiny prickles of excitement again, she moved toward him and grabbed his wrist with all her might. “Let’s see you fight your way out of this one, buddy.” She knew she didn’t have a chance in hell of keeping hold but enjoyed the moment, and especially grappling with the hunk. When was the last time she’d had fun horsing around with a man and not felt the least bit afraid or vulnerable?

She trusted Joe not to hurt her.

He swung his free arm around behind her and pulled her close, pretending to get her in a head lock but quickly moving into a backward hug. “I don’t suggest you ever let your attacker get you in this position,” he said playfully over the shell of her ear.

“There won’t be any more attackers,” she said through gritted teeth. “Because I’ll kick their asses first.”

He tightened his hold, but in a good way, a sexy way. She went limp in his arms, feeling his closeness in every cell and nerve ending, confused by the total attraction she had for him. This was the worst time in the world to fall for someone. She was pregnant with another man’s baby, for crying out loud. He must have felt the shift of her mood from fight to flight, or in this case to catatonic, and he quickly backed off. They’d gotten too close. Too soon. That sexy, challenging gaze in his eyes from a second before disappeared and he reached for his water to take another drink as a distraction.

“So,” he started again, sounding nonchalant, “another good idea, if a bad guy only wants your wallet, is to reach into your purse, grab your wallet and throw it as far away as you can. He probably wants your money, not you, and will go after it. Then scream like hell and run for your life. Of course, if he has a gun you may want to reconsider that move.”

She gave the required light laugh over his obvious smart-aleck attempt to change the focus of what had just gone down. But their eyes met again, his honey brown and inviting as all hell, and it seemed they both knew some line had just been crossed. Though she couldn’t tell from Joe’s steely stare how he felt, and wasn’t about to guess because the thought made her get all jittery inside, she hoped he couldn’t tell how shaken she was.

She watched him with a mixture of shame and longing, but mostly confusion. Damn that concussion. “Thanks for the lesson,” she whispered. “I’d better get some rest now.”

They’d gotten too close, that was a fact.

She turned to head for her room, but a sense of duty stopped her. The man had saved her life then offered to share his home with her. Where did a guy like that come from? The least she could do was tell him what she’d been through, why she’d run away from home. He deserved to know how she’d ended up smack in the middle of his life. And if she shared, maybe she’d find out something about him, too.

“Joe?” She circled back to face him.

“Yeah?” He’d gone back to throwing punches at his punchbag and stopped.

“I ran away from a man who wanted to possess me. Completely. Little by little he clipped away at my life. Half the time I didn’t even notice, until one day I realized he’d isolated me from everything I liked and loved other than him.” She picked at a broken fingernail. “He wanted to control my life, and when I got pregnant he acted like that would ruin everything and got abusive with me.” Carey stared at her feet rather than risk seeing any judgment on Joe’s face. “I ran away the night he handed me a wad of money and told me to take care of ‘it’, as if my baby was a problem that needed fixing. He didn’t want to share me with anyone, not even our kid.”

She finally glanced up to find nothing but empathy in Joe’s eyes. “I fought him and he roughed me up. So when he gave me the money I grabbed whatever I could without being obvious, acted like I was going to do what he wanted, then ran for my life.”

Joe stepped toward her but she backed up, needing the distance and to tell him her entire story.

“I came to California because it was the next bus out of Montclare, and I didn’t have time to pick or choose. I must have looked like a sitting duck because I stepped off the bus and immediately got dragged into that alley.” Frightened to relive that night, and frustrated by the emotion rolling through her, she dug her fingers into her hair. “At first I thought maybe Ross had somehow found me and he was taking me back home. Then I realized I was getting mugged, but it was too late. I didn’t know how to protect myself.” She removed her hands from her hair and held them waist high, palms upward, beseeching Joe to understand. “If it wasn’t for you I don’t know where I’d be.

“I owe my life to you, and I’ve got to be honest and say it’s strange to feel that way.” She sat on the edge of the nearby dining table chair. “Yet here you are day after day watching over me, making my life better. I’m grateful, I am, but please understand that I’m confused and scared and...” Her voice broke with the words. “And I don’t know what the future holds for me. Whether I stay here or go somewhere else, I just don’t know, but the only thing that matters right now is my baby.” Her forearm folded across her stomach and she blinked.

“I get it,” Joe said. “Believe me, I understand how life-changing a baby can be.”

“You do? Are you a father?”

“Uh, no.” He immediately withdrew.

“So how do you know, then?”

“Look, forget I said that. Right now, all I want is for you to be healthy and safe.” He came to her and crouched to be eye level with her. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I can’t help but find you attractive, so there, I’ve said it, and I know that’s not acceptable.”

How was she supposed to answer him? “It may not be acceptable but I feel the same way.” Oh, God, she’d put her secret thoughts into words. “It’s just the worst timing in the world, you know?”

“I know. Like I said, I get it.” He made the wise decision not to touch her but instead to stand and step back.

“Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course.”

She stood and started walking, this time without looking back, and headed on wobbly legs to her room. Had she just admitted she found Joe Matthews as attractive as he’d just confirmed he found her?

This was nuts! So she’d blame it on the head trauma.

Joe stood perfectly still, watching Carey make her exit. He half expected to hear her lock the door to the bedroom. He hoped he hadn’t made her feel creepy about him. It hadn’t been his intention to get her in a hug, but he’d been showing her ways to get out of predatory attacks and had inadvertently become a predator himself.

Great going, Joe. You made your house guest think you wanted to crawl into her bed.

He went back to the porch and punched the bag. “Ouch!” He hadn’t prepared his fist and it hurt like hell. And what had gotten into him to let slip that he’d known how it felt to be an expectant parent? That wouldn’t happen again. He wound up, wanting to punch the bag again, this time even harder, but stopped himself.

Regardless of how awkward he may have made Carey feel, she’d just opened up to him. Man, she’d had it tough back in Chicago. He couldn’t remember the name of the suburb she’d come from, and right now that didn’t matter. What mattered was that she shouldn’t feel like she’d run all the way across country only to find herself in the same situation again.

She needed to get out of the house. To begin something. To get that job and start some money rolling in before she got so pregnant she wouldn’t be able to. His head started spinning with everything that needed to be done for her. He needed to help her get her independence back.

From personal experience he knew about a special class at The Hollywood Hills Clinic. A class that would be perfect for where she was right now in her life. He knew the right people to talk to about it, too. And he’d move ahead with her getting that job, so if she wanted, in time, she could move out.

Maybe he couldn’t erase what had happened between them just now, but he sure as hell could make some changes for the better happen, starting tomorrow.

He flipped off the light and headed to his room to take a cold shower and hopefully catch a little sleep.

On Friday afternoon Carey sat on the backyard deck in the shade of the huge jacaranda tree, the flowers falling into piles of light purple and scattering across the wood planks like pressed flowers in a painting. She’d been reading an article about early pregnancy on the internet on Joe’s tablet when she heard his hybrid SUV pull into the garage and shortly after he came through the gate in the backyard.

Did he know she was out here? Or, more likely after last night, maybe he wanted to avoid her by coming through the back way, hoping she’d be inside.

“Hey,” he said, all smiles, as if nothing monumental had occurred between them last night.

“Hi. You’re home early.”

He came toward the deck but didn’t come up, keeping a safe distance between them, placing a foot on the second step and leaning a forearm over his knee. “One of the perks of owning your own business is that I call the shots. It was a slow day, so I took off early.”

“Lucky you.” His smile was wide, giving her the impression he had some good news. Maybe he had found somewhere for her to move to? If she was honest, that would give her mixed feelings, though the social worker Helena had said she’d look into housing for her, too, and she’d agreed to it at the time. “But I know you’ve worked hard to get where you are and at the ripe old age of twenty-eight you deserve your afternoon off. Twenty-eight, that’s right isn’t it?”

He nodded proudly. Yeah, he’d made something out of himself and he wasn’t even thirty yet. “And you are?”

“Twenty-five.”

“A mere child.” He smiled, pretending to be the worldly-wise older man, but his gaze quickly danced away from hers. Yeah, he was still mixed up about last night, too. “So, listen, about you feeling isolated and stuck here and everything...”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to. I figured it out after you went to your room last night. But let’s not rehash that, because I’ve got some good news.”

She shut down the tablet and leaned forward in the outdoor lounger. “Good news? They found my stuff?”

He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. “Sorry, I wish. But here’s the deal—the clinic has this prenatal class, they call it Parentcraft and it’s starting a new session tomorrow. I hope you don’t mind, but I put your name in, and Dr. Rothsberg gave me the okay. I thought you could ride into work with me in the morning, and check it out.”

“You signed me up? Isn’t there a fee? I...uh...can’t—”

“Like I said, James took care of everything. He’s a generous man. There’s a spot for you and the first session starts tomorrow at ten.”

“Joe, I’m really grateful for you doing this, but you’re helping so much, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you.”

“Carey, I’m not doing any of this to make you feel indebted to me. Please, don’t feel that way. My parents taught me a lot of stuff, and helping folks was big in our family. When you’re back on your feet you’ll find a way to help someone else in need. That’s all. No debt to me, just pay it forward.”

“Joe...” She stared at him, trying her hardest to figure him out. Was he a freak of nature or her personal knight in shining armor? She leaned back in the lounger and looked into the blue sky dotted with its few wispy clouds. “It’s just hard to take in all this goodness after the way my life had been going this past year.” She heard him step up the stairs and walk toward her.

“Well, get used to it.” He sat on the adjacent lounger then reached out to touch her hand. “That man you ran away from is ancient history. It may not have been your plan, but Hollywood is your new beginning. Just go with the flow, as my yoga-brained sister likes to say.”

Carey laughed, wondering about Joe’s family. They must be some special people to produce a gem like him. “Okay. Thanks. I’m excited about the class tomorrow.”

“Great, and while you’re at the hospital you can fill out the papers for the temporary ward clerk job, too.”

“What?”

“I know, too much goodness, right?” He laughed, and she thought she could easily get used to watching his handsome face. “James, uh, Dr. Rothsberg, has taken care of everything. Hey, not every clinic can boast their very own Jane Doe. We just want to help get you back on your feet.”

“This is all too much to take in.”

“Then don’t waste your time.” He stood. “Come on, I’ll take you to my favorite deli on Fairfax. You like roast beef on rye? They make their sandwiches this thick.” He used his thumb and index finger to measure a good four inches.

Well, come to think of it, she was hungry. Again! And what better way to keep her mind off the whirlwind of feelings gathering inside her about that man than stuffing her face with a sandwich. Otherwise she’d have to deal with her growing awareness of Joe, the prince of a guy who had literally come out of nowhere, protecting her, saving her, taking her in, changing her life in a positive way, and, maybe the most interesting part, forcing her to remember pure and simple attraction for the opposite sex.

* * *

Saturday morning Carey was up and dressed in one of the new outfits Joe had bought her, a simple summer dress with a lightweight pastel-green sweater that covered the tiny baby bump just starting to appear. She was nervous about applying for a job, though she knew she really needed to get out among the living again, to prove to herself she was getting back on her feet. Also, having something to do after a week of lying low since being discharged from the clinic was a major reason she looked forward to applying for the job. As for the parenting class, with her huge desire to be a good mother she was eager to start.

Joe had dressed for work, his light blue polo shirt with The Hollywood Hills Clinic logo above the pocket fit his healthy frame perfectly and highlighted those gorgeous deltoids, biceps and triceps. The cargo pants, though loose and loaded with useful pockets, filled with EMS stuff no doubt, still managed to showcase his fine derriere. She felt a little guilty checking him out as he walked ahead to open the door to the employee entrance. How much longer would she be able to blame her concussion for this irrational behavior? In her defense, there was just something so masculine about a guy wearing those serious-as-hell EMS boots!

He glanced at his watch. “You should have enough time to get your paperwork done for the job application first. I’ll walk you over to HR.”

“HR?”

“Human Resources.”

“Ah, we call it Employee Relations back home.”

“Yeah, same thing, but first I’m going to show you where your parenting class will be so you’ll know where to go when you’re through. Follow me.”

Carey did as she was told, clutching her small purse with her new identification cards and temporary driving license, while walking and looking around the exquisite halls and corridors with vague memories of having been there before. Though the place seemed more like a high-end hotel than a hospital. And this time she had money from her last pay check from the hospital back home, instead of being completely vulnerable, like before. Ten days ago she’d arrived on a stretcher, and today she was applying for a job and starting a new parenting class. She was definitely getting back on her feet. Who said life wasn’t filled with miracles?

“Oh, Gabriella,” Joe said, to a pretty woman walking past, “I’d like to introduce you to Carey Spencer. She’ll be starting your class later.” He turned to Carey. “Gabriella is the head midwife and runs the prenatal classes.”

The woman, who looked to be around Joe’s age, with strawberry-blonde hair and a slim and healthy figure, smiled at Carey, her light brown eyes sparkling when she did so. They briefly shook hands, then all continued walking together, as the midwife was obviously heading somewhere in the same direction. As Gabriella was just about Carey’s height, their eyes met when she spoke. “Oh, lovely to have you. How far along are you?”

“A little over three months.”

“Perfect. We’re beginning the class with pregnancy meal planning trimester by trimester, plus exercises for early pregnancy.”

This was exactly what Carey needed. Just because she was a nurse it didn’t mean she knew squat about becoming a mother or going through a pregnancy. “Sounds great.” Her hopes soared with the lucky direction her life had taken. Thanks to Joe and Dr. Rothsberg.

“Yes, I think you’ll love it.” Gabriella cut off into another hallway. “Be sure to bring your partner,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s always good to have that reinforcement.”

And Carey’s heart dropped to her stomach, pulling her pulse down with it. Was having a partner a requirement? Obviously, Gabriella didn’t know her circumstances.

Joe gave her an anxious glance. “That won’t be a problem. Trust me, okay?”

Surely, Carey hoped, in this day and age there were bound to be other women in the class without partners. Joe was probably right about it not being a problem. But, please, God, she wouldn’t be the only one, would she?

Forty-five minutes later, after submitting her job application for the temporary third-floor medical/surgical ward clerk in HR and feeling very positive about it, Carey had found her way back to the modern and pristine classroom and took a seat. Several handouts had been placed on the tables. A dozen couples were already there, and more drifted in as the minutes ticked on. She glanced around the room, seeing a sea of couples. Oh, no, she really was going to be the only one on her own. How awkward would that be?

Fighting off feeling overwhelmed but refusing to be embarrassed, she glanced at the clock on the wall—three minutes to ten—and thought about sneaking out before the class began. She could learn this stuff online, and wouldn’t have to come here feeling the odd man out every week. But Joe had gone out of his way to get her enrolled, and Dr. Rothsberg was footing the bill. She went back and forth in her mind about staying or going, then Gabriella entered and started her welcome speech.

She’d sat close to the back of the room, and it would still be easy to sneak out if she wanted or needed to. But, wait, she wasn’t that person anymore, the one who let life throw her a curveball and immediately fell down. Nope, she’d turned in her victim badge, and Joe had helped her. She could do this. She forced her focus on the front of the class to Gabriella, who smiled and brightened the room with her lovely personality. The last thing Carey wanted to do was insult anyone, especially after Joe and Dr. Rothsberg had made special arrangements to get her here. But, oh, she felt weird about being the only single mom in the class.

“Why don’t we go around the room and introduce ourselves?” Gabriella said.

Soon everyone else would notice, too.

The door at the back of the class opened again. Feeling nervous and easily distracted, Carey glanced over her shoulder then did a double take. In came Joe, his heavy booted steps drawing attention from several people in the vicinity.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said to Gabriella, then walked directly to Carey and took the empty chair next to her. “If you don’t mind,” he whispered close to her ear, “I’ll pretend to be your partner today.” For all anyone else knew in the class, he could have told her he loved her. The guy knew how to be discreet, and from the way her heart pattered from his entrance he may as well have just run down a list of sweet nothings.

He’d obviously picked up on her anxiety the instant Gabriella had told her back in that hallway to be sure to bring her partner. He was here solely to spare her feelings.

Joseph Matthews truly was a knight in shining armor! Or in his case cargo pants and work boots.

As he settled in next to her his larger-than-life maleness quickly filled up the space between them. Warmth suffused her entire body. Being this close to Joe, having access to gaze into those rich brown eyes, would definitely make it difficult to concentrate on today’s lesson.

“You’re next, Carey. Introduce yourself and your partner,” Gabriella said, emphasizing the partner part.

Joe hadn’t meant to put Carey on the spot, but after seeing the panic in her eyes earlier, when Gabriella had told her to be sure to bring her partner, he couldn’t let her go through this alone. At first he’d wanted to run like hell when he’d shown her the classroom. Coming here had brought back more awful memories. He and Angela had actually started this class before she’d moved out.

Feeling uneasy as hell when he’d dropped Carey off earlier, he’d gone back to his work station, but had soon found he’d been unable to concentrate on the job. His mind had kept drifting to Carey sitting here alone, feeling completely out of place, and he couldn’t stand for that to happen. Besides, wasn’t it time for him to move on? Determined to put his bad memories aside once and for all—his divorce hadn’t been his fault—he’d made a decision. She shouldn’t have to attend this class alone. If offering her support could ease her discomfort, he’d take the bullet for her and be her partner. The woman had been through enough on her own lately.

“Oh,” she said, as if she’d never expected to have to introduce herself, even though everyone else just had. “Um, I’m Carey Spencer, I’m a little over three months pregnant, I, uh, recently moved to California.” She swallowed nervously around the stretching of the truth. Joe reached for her hand beneath the table and squeezed it to give her confidence a boost. “I’m a nurse by profession, a first-time mother, and...” She looked at Joe, the earlier panic returning to those shimmering green eyes. He squeezed her hand again.

“I’m Joe Matthews,” he stepped in. “Carey’s friend. Good friend.” He glanced at her, seeing her squirm, letting it rub off on him a tiny bit. “A really close friend.” Overkill? He gazed around the room, having fudged the situation somewhat, and all the other couples watched expectantly. “We’ve been through a lot together, and we’re both really looking forward to taking this class and learning how to be good parents.”

Okay, let them think whatever they wanted. His statement was mostly true—in fact, it was ninety-nine per cent true, except for the bit about being “really close” friends, though they had been through a lot together already. Oh, and the part about him ever getting to be a parent. Yeah, that would never happen. The reality hit like a sucker punch and he nearly winced with pain. Why the hell had he willingly walked into this room again? Carey’s cool, thin fingers clasped his hand beneath the table, just as he’d done to support her a few seconds ago. The gesture helped him past the stutter in thought.

He’d come here today for Carey. She needed to catch a break, and he’d promised the night he’d found her in the alley that he’d look out for her. If she needed a partner for the parenting class then, damn it, he’d be here.

“I’m a paramedic here at the clinic, so if I ever need to deliver a baby on a run, I figure this class will be good for that, too.” He got the laugh he was hoping for to relieve his mounting tension as the room reacted. “It’s a win-win situation, right?”

He shifted his eyes to the woman to his left. If taking this class together meant having to really open up about themselves, well, he was bound to let her down because he was far, far from ready to talk about it.

Carey didn’t know squat about his past, and if he had his way, she never would. Why humiliate himself again, this time in front of a woman he was quickly growing attached to, when once had already been enough for a lifetime?

CHAPTER FIVE

ON THE SATURDAY after the next Parentcraft class, Carey stood in the kitchen, using her second-trimester menu planner for dinner preparation. She’d had to stretch her usual eating routine to include items she’d never have been caught dead eating before. Like anchovies! Why was Gabriella so big on anchovies? Obviously they were high in calcium and other important minerals, plus loaded with omega three and six fatty acids, but Carey didn’t think they tasted so great and smelled really bad. Carey practically had to hold her nose to eat them.

Fortunately this Saturday-night menu included salmon—yay, more omega fats—which Joe was dutifully grilling outside on a cedar plank. Dutiful, yeah, that was the right word for Joe. Everything he did for her seemed to be done out of duty. Sure, he was nice and considerate, but she never sensed he was completely relaxed around her.

She diligently steamed the broccoli and zucchini, and in another pot boiled some new red potatoes, grateful that Joe seemed okay to eat whatever she did. So far she’d managed to keep her occasional junk-food binges to herself. Nothing major, just items that had definitely been left off the Gabriella-approved dietary plan for a pregnant lady, like sea salt and malt vinegar potato chips, or blue corn chips, or, well, actually, any kind of chip that she could get her hands on. She rationalized that if occasionally she only bought the small luncheon-sized bags she wouldn’t do the baby any harm. Or her hips.

Her weight gain was right on target, and when she’d seen Gabriella in clinic for a prenatal checkup, thanks to Dr. Rothsberg, she’d complimented her on how well she was carrying the baby. The ultrasound had been the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen, and the first person she’d wanted to share it with had been Joe, and since he’d brought her to the appointment, once she’d dressed she’d invited him back into the examination room. He’d oohed and aahed right along with her, but she’d sensed a part of him had remained safely detached. She could understand why—he was a guy and it wasn’t his baby.

It made sense...yet he’d gotten all watery-eyed that day in the clinic when she’d found out her baby was okay, and he’d made that remark that one time about knowing how life-changing a baby could be. She’d asked him point blank if he was a father, but he’d said no and had powered right on. What had that been about? Heck, she’d only just recently found out how old he was, and the only thing she knew beyond that, besides he had a big, kind family, was that he was divorced.

The thing that kept eating away at her thoughts was that Joe didn’t seem like the kind of guy who’d give up on a marriage.

Carey popped the top from another beer can and carried it outside to Joe. Being so involved together in the parenting class had definitely changed their relationship for the better, yet she knew Joe held back. She’d opened up about Ross in the hope of getting Joe to share whatever it was that kept him frequently tense and withdrawn.

At first she’d written off that always-present slow simmer just beneath the surface as being due to his demanding job as a paramedic, and also the fact he ran the business. But he clearly thrived on being in charge. It was obvious he loved the challenge. No, that wasn’t the problem, it was when they were in the house together, her occasionally indulging in baby talk to her stomach, or discussing the latest information from the Parentcraft classes that she noticed him mentally slip into another time and place. Granted, another person’s pregnancy wasn’t exactly riveting to the average person, but Joe had volunteered to attend the class with her. If it was an issue, why had he signed on?

Now outside, she smiled and handed him a second beer. “Ready for another?”

His brows rose. “Sure. Thanks.” As he took it, their eyes met and held, and a little zing shot through her. The usual whenever they looked straight at each other.

She turned and headed back toward the kitchen, feeling distracted and desperately trying to stay on task.

“You trying to get me drunk?”

“Maybe.” She playfully tossed the word over her shoulder then ducked inside before he could respond.

Tonight was the night she hoped to get him to open up. If she had to ply him with beer to do it, she would.

Later over dinner... “Mmm, this is delicious,” Carey said, tasting the cedar-infused salmon. “That lime juice brings out a completely different flavor.” They sat at the small picnic table on the deck under a waxing June moon.

“Not bad, I must say. What kind of crazy food do we have to prepare tomorrow?”

“Watercress soup with anchovies, what else?” She laughed. “That’s lunch, but for dinner we get chicken teriyaki with shredded veggies, oh, and cheese rolls. Can’t wait for the bread!” She leveled him with her stare. “I have to thank you for putting up with this crazy diet.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve enjoyed everything so far.” He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. “Since I’m your prenatal partner, the least I should do is help you stay on the diet. Your baby will thank me one day.”

Sometimes he said the sweetest things and she just wanted to throw her arms around him. But she’d made that mistake once already during the self-defense training and it had mixed up everything between them for days afterwards. Since then he seemed to have shut down like a spring snare, and she’d carefully kept her distance. But he’d just planted a thought she couldn’t drop. Would her baby ever know him?

Right now his hand was on top of hers, and she couldn’t for the life of her understand why such a wonderful man wasn’t still happily married with his own assortment of kids.

She lifted her lids and caught him still watching her, both totally aware of their hands touching, so she smiled but it felt lopsided and wiggly. She stopped immediately, not wanting him to think she was goofy looking or anything. Things felt too close, it nagged at her, and she knew how to break up that uncomfortable feeling pronto. “You mentioned once that you were divorced.” She decided to get right to the heart of the conversation she’d planned to start tonight.

He removed his hand from hers and sat taller as ice seemed to set into his normally kind eyes. “Yeah.” He dug into his vegetables and served himself more fish, suddenly very busy with eating. “My wife left me.”

Why would any woman in her right mind leave Joe? “That must have hurt like hell.”

“It was not a good time.” He clipped out the words, with an emphasis that communicated it would be the end of this conversation. And why did she know without a doubt that he wasn’t telling her anywhere near the whole story? Because he’d hinted at “getting it” and knowing how babies changed lives. Things didn’t add up. Had he lost a child?

So she pressed on, hoping that talking about herself some more might help him to open up. “Sometimes people should get divorced.” She pushed her empty plate away and sipped from her large glass of iced water.

“For instance, my parents were a train wreck. My dad was out of work most of the time, and my mother was always taking on whatever odd jobs she could to make up for it. Instead of being grateful, my typically belligerent father went the macho route, accusing her of thinking him not good enough to take care of the family. Occasionally he’d haul off and hit her, too. I swore I’d never, never put myself in the same position.”

Joe protested, shaking his head. “You didn’t.”

“Didn’t I? After working my whole life to be independent, I fell for the exact same kind of guy as my dad. A man so insecure about his masculinity that he kept me isolated, insisting it was because he loved me so much. Then he turned violent whenever I stood up to him, and especially when I told him we were going to have a baby. What a fool I was. I didn’t learn a thing from my parents’ lousy marriage.” If she hadn’t already finished eating she wouldn’t have been able to take another bite, with her stomach suddenly churning and contorting with emotion.

“He must have had a lot going for him to get you interested at first, though. I’m sure he hid his insecurities really well.” His hand came back to hers. “Don’t call yourself stupid. You have a big heart. You just didn’t see the changes coming.”

“You give me a lot of credit.” She squeezed his hand. “I’m still mad at myself for winding up in this position.”

“As crazy as it sounds, I’m kind of glad you did.” He squeezed back then let go completely, keeping things safe and distant. “You’re better off here.”

With you? She wanted to add, I am better off here but where do we go from here? “What are we, Joe?”

He screwed up his face in mock confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Are we friends? You can’t call me a tenant because I’m not paying you rent.” She tried to make an ironic expression, but fell far short because the next pressing question was already demanding she ask it. “Am I one huge charity case that you, in your kindness, the way your parents taught you, just can’t bring yourself to send away?”

“God, no. Carey, come on.” He wadded up his napkin and tossed it on the table. “You’re overthinking things, making problems where there aren’t any. We’re friends.” He shrugged.

“We can’t call ourselves friends if you won’t open up to me.” She stood and started clearing the table. “Friends share things.”

Joe shot up and helped to pick up dishes, as usual, and they headed to the kitchen and washed the plates in silence. A muscle in his jaw bunched over and over. Not only had she not gotten Joe to open up, she’d made sure he’d keep his distance and would probably never let her close. Major fail.

But what should she expect, being pregnant with another man’s baby?

* * *

Early on Monday morning the phone rang. Sunday evening had been strained but tolerable between them, and Joe had withdrawn more from Carey by working during the day and later by working out while listening to that aggressive jazz saxophone music while he did so. It made her want to put on headphones. Carey didn’t know if she could take much more of him distancing himself from her, but under the circumstances she felt trapped for now. Which felt far too familiar, considering her past.

Joe had the day off and answered, then quickly handed the phone to Carey.

“This is Mrs. Adams from social services. The police department told us about your current situation, and Helena from The Hollywood Hills Clinic Social Services also contacted us. Sorry it took so long, but there is quite a backlog. Anyway, we have found a temporary apartment in Hollywood where you can stay for now.”

“Well, that’s wonderful. When can I have a look?”

“You can move in this weekend, if you’d like. Or today if you need to. We have a voucher worth a month’s rent and this unit has just become available. Would you like me to bring the voucher by?”

“Yes. Of course. Thanks so much.”

Carey hung up having made arrangements with Mrs. Adams, glancing up to see Joe watching her skeptically. She owed him an explanation and told him exactly what Mrs. Adams had just said.

“So, if all works out, I’ll be out of your hair, maybe as soon as tonight.”

“Where is this place? Will you be safe?” There went that jaw muscle again.

“I don’t know anything, but would social services send me somewhere unsafe?”

“They’re just trying to put a roof over your head.” His fingers planted on and dug into his hips, his body tensed. He wore an expression of great concern, making his normally handsome face look ominous. “Safety might not be their number-one goal. I’m going with you.”

Every once in a while, thanks to her recent experience with Ross, Joe seemed too overbearing. Yeah, she’d messed up lately, but she was a big girl, a mother-to-be! And she would be in charge of her life from here on. “I can take care of myself. Thanks.”

His demeanor immediately apologetic, he came closer. “I didn’t mean to come off like that, dictating what I intended to do, but please let me come with you. I’d like to see where you’ll be living. I know all the areas around here.”

Since he sounded more reasonable, she changed her mind. “Okay, but I make the decision. Got that?”

“Got it. But first off you’ve got to know that you don’t have to move out. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need to.”

“Thank you, but as a future single mother I’ve got to prove to myself I can take care of things. I got myself into this situation, I should get myself out. Besides, I’ll be starting the temporary job next Monday, and—”

“Your salary won’t be enough to rent an apartment in any decent neighborhood. I’m not trying to throw a wet blanket on your plans, I’m just being honest.”

She refused to lose hope. “I’m going to go see that apartment with Mrs. Adams and then I’ll decide.”

“Can you at least call her back and tell her I’ll drive you over there?”

“Okay, but only because it will be more convenient for her.”

“Fine.”

* * *

That afternoon Joe parked on North Edgemont in front of an old redbrick apartment building that was dark, dank and seedy-looking as hell. He clamped his jaw and ground his molars rather than let Carey know what he thought. She’d made it clear it would be her decision, and he’d honor that. The only thing the area had going for it was a huge hospital a couple of blocks down on Sunset Boulevard.

If they’d offered the rent voucher the first week she’d moved in, he would have encouraged her to jump on it. Having a woman in his house again, especially a pregnant woman, brought back a hundred different and all equally awful memories. Having to do things together, like shopping for groceries and fixing meals, was nearly more than he could bear. Plus, with Carey living with him, it seemed Angela had moved back in, just in a different form. So he’d concentrated on Carey being a victim and he was her protector. Keeping it clinical and obligatory had been the key.

Best-laid plans and all, he’d gotten involved with her anyway. Why had he taken it on himself to teach her self-defense, and why in hell had he volunteered to be her prenatal class partner? The problem was there was too much to like about Carey. So he glanced at the dreary apartment building and felt a little sick.

If she decided to take this place, he’d have to find her a car. Which wouldn’t be a problem with his father’s business. No way did he want her walking these streets at night, coming home from work and getting off the bus. Pressure built in his temples just thinking about it.

He stood back and let Carey introduce herself to Mrs. Adams, who showed her inside. The term flophouse came to mind, but Joe kept his trap shut. Damn, it was hard.

The single room had a tiny alcove with a half-refrigerator, a small microwave and a hot plate. How would she be able to continue with the nutritious meals from Gabriella’s class? He’d throw out the mattress from the pullout bed and burn it rather sleep on it, and the rusty toilet in the so-called bathroom made his stomach churn. Not to mention that the constant dripping from the kitchen sink would keep her awake at night.

Caution was as plain as day on Carey’s face as she glanced around the place. But he already knew her well enough to know she’d try to make the best out of a lousy situation. Hell, she’d been putting up with him withdrawing every time they’d gotten too close. Probably walked on eggshells around him. But was living with him so bad that she’d choose a dump like this just to get away?

Last night she’d said a real zinger, not realizing it, of course, but nevertheless her comment had hit hard. When she’d talked about her ex being insecure about his masculinity to the point of taking over her life, it had made Joe cringe. He could relate, especially since getting the lab results about him being sterile, and following up later with a urologist as to the reasons why. Was that part of him wanting to protect Carey? Was it some twisted way of making himself feel like a complete man again?

“And you said you have a voucher for the rent here for the next month?” Carey asked.

Mrs. Adams, a tiny African-American woman with short tight curls and wearing a bright red blouse, looked serious. “Yes, we can also provide food stamps and you can move in now or this weekend if you’d like.”

Carey was about to say something, and damn it to hell if it meant he was waving around his insecure masculinity or whatever, Joe couldn’t let this fiasco continue another second. “What’s the crime rate in this neighborhood?” he butted in.

An eyebrow shot up on Mrs. Adams’s forehead. Was she not used to being asked that question by people desperate enough to need county social services assistance? “I honestly don’t know. It’s a busy neighborhood. There’s a church right up the street, a hospital down on Sunset. There’s a small family-run market on Hollywood Boulevard and the apartment building is really well situated for all of her needs.”

Carey stood still, only her eyes moved to watch him. Was it trust or fear he saw there? Was his being concerned coming off as overbearing? He hoped she saw it a different way, the way he’d intended, that he was worried for her safety. He subtly shook his head but she quickly glanced back at Mrs. Adams. “Thank you so much for showing me this place. Do I have to sign anything?”

Joe understood she’d been trying to be a good soldier, stiffening her lip and all, but all it had done was turn her to cardboard. She obviously wanted to make the offer from social services work out, but Joe strongly suspected that in her heart she was scared. And he was pretty sure he saw it in her eyes, too. Those lush meadow-green eyes seemed ready for a storm. How could she not be afraid? Now that he’d identified what was going on with her, he could practically smell that fear. He just hoped it wasn’t directed toward him.

She didn’t belong here. She belonged with him. Safe. Protected. That’s all there was to it. Was he being crazy, like Ross? With all his heart he hoped not, but right at this moment it was hard to evaluate his motives because the lines had blurred and there was no way in hell he’d let this happen.

Joe stepped forward, unable to let the scene play out another moment. He reached for and gently held Carey’s upper arm, pleading with his eyes, hoping she wouldn’t see a crazed, insecure man. He fought to keep every ounce of emotion out of his voice. “Stay with me.” Making the comment a simple suggestion. Then he stumbled, letting a drop of intensity slip back in. “Please.”

* * *

Carey hadn’t given in, though she’d wanted to. Mrs. Adams had gone on alert when Joe had taken her arm in his hand. The poor woman had probably thought he was the guy she needed to get away from. Carey had made sure she knew otherwise. No, Joe wasn’t scary, but he had a rescue complex and she needed to help him get over it.

They drove back toward West Hollywood mostly in silence. True, the last thing she wanted was to move into such a depressing place, but rather than cave just because Joe wanted her to she’d asked Mrs. Adams to give her twenty-four hours to make her decision. It had also seemed to calm the woman’s sudden uneasy demeanor over the battle of wills between Carey and Joe about moving.

And this had been where Joe had proved he was nothing like Ultimatum Ross. Trusting her decision, he’d agreed that was a smart idea, and Mrs. Adams had smiled again. Inside, so had Carey.

The man was too good to be true, and she couldn’t trust her instinct to believe he was what he was, a great guy! She’d thought she’d fallen for a great guy back home, a man who’d gone out of his way to charm her and make her laugh, and above all who’d wanted to take care of her. Look where that had led. But the last two weeks of living with Joe had been little short of perfection. He was patient and friendly, didn’t have mood swings, like Ross, had just mostly kept his distance. Sometimes that had been maddening. Joe was tidy and helpful and—oh, she’d tried long enough to avoid the next thought—sexy as hell! The male pheromones buzzing through that house had awakened something she’d tried to put on hold since long before she’d gotten pregnant. Desire.

When she’d taken off her blindfold and finally seen who Ross truly was, she hadn’t wanted to be engaged to him anymore. But he was such a manipulating and suspicious guy that she’d pretended to be sexually interested just enough to keep him off the scent. She’d intended to leave him. Had made plans for it, too. Then the unthinkable had happened and she’d gotten pregnant. The only thing she could figure was she’d missed a birth-control pill. Ross had hated hearing that excuse, and he’d accused her of wanting to ruin everything they’d had together. He’d even accused her of being unfaithful.

And he’d gotten violent.

How could she ever trust her instinct where men were concerned?

She needed Joe to open up to make sure he wasn’t hiding something awful. Maybe she could use him wanting to rescue her all the time as a bargaining chip to get him to share something personal. She’d been kind of forced to tell him about Ross, what with her bruises and black eye and being pregnant and running away. But her attempt to get him to tell her about his failed marriage Saturday night had fallen flat. Maybe his divorce still hurt too much.

“If you expect me to continue to live with you, we have to actually be friends, not just say we are.”

“Of course we’re friends.” He kept his eyes on the road.

“No, we’re not. I’ve shared some very personal stuff with you, and yet you’re nothing but a mystery to me. Friends know things about each other.”

“What do you want to know?” He sounded frustrated.

“Why did your wife leave you? What happened? What broke up your marriage?”

He braked a little too hard for the red light, then stared straight ahead for a couple of moments. “If you’re thinking I was a player you’d be wrong. In our case it was the other way around.”

Carey nearly gulped in her shock. What woman in her right mind would be unfaithful to a guy like Joe? What in the world was she supposed to say to that? “She left you for another man?” She admitted she sounded a little dumbstruck.

“As opposed to a woman?” He gave an ironic laugh and glanced at her with challenge in his eyes. “I guess that might have hurt even more, but yes to your question. It was another man.” He could have been testifying in court by his businesslike manner. Just the facts, ma’am.

So Joe was one of the walking wounded, like her. “I’m so sorry.” It was probably a lot easier for him to assign himself the role of protector than to open the door to getting involved with another woman. Especially a vulnerable person like her. Joe had proved to be wise on top of all his other wonderful assets.

Though she knew without a doubt what had gone down today, looking at the apartment, was on a completely different level. Joe had asked her to stay. She’d seen from that touch of desperation in his eyes that he’d meant it, too. She didn’t have a clue if once upon a time he’d asked his wife to stay and she’d left anyway, but right at this instant Carey made a decision.

No way would she be another woman walking out on Joseph Matthews. “May I borrow your cell phone?”

While driving, he fished in his pocket and handed it to her. She looked in her purse for the business card. “Hello, Mrs. Adams? This is Carey Spencer. Yes, hi. About that apartment, I am so grateful for the rent voucher and the offer of food stamps, but I have decided to stay where I am.”

Not another word was spoken on the drive home, but Carey could have sworn the built-up tension in the car had instantly dissipated as if she’d rolled down the window and let the Santa Ana winds blow it all away.

* * *

The following Monday Carey started her new job as a substitute ward clerk and couldn’t hide her elation over working again. More importantly, the California Board of Registered Nurses assured her she’d get her RN license in a couple more weeks, just in time to apply for another job, this one as an RN, after the vacationing ward clerk came back. Life was definitely looking up.

The evening shift on the medical/surgical unit was nonstop with admissions and discharges, and she was grateful she’d spent a couple of afternoons learning the computer software and clinic routine with the current ward clerk the week before she’d left.

Joe had offered to rent her a car, but she didn’t feel ready to drive the streets of Los Angeles, especially those winding roads in the Hollywood Hills, just yet, so Joe had reworked things and scheduled himself on evening shifts so he could bring her to work and back.

She sat transfixed before the computer at the nurses’ station, deciphering the admitting orders from Dr. Rothsberg for a twenty-eight-year-old starlet who’d been intermittently starving and binging herself then herbal detoxing for the last several years, until now her liver showed signs of giving out. She’d been admitted with a general diagnosis of fever, malaise and abdominal tenderness. Though bone thin everywhere else, her abdomen looked to be the same size as Carey’s, but the actress wasn’t pregnant.

Carey had arranged for the ultrasound and CT studies for the next day, and had moved on to requesting a low-sodium diet from the hospital dietary department, which had a master chef. She could vouch for the great food with a couple of memorable meals she’d had during her stay. The patient would probably never notice the lack of salt amidst a perfect blend of fresh herbs and spices. Then she reminded the admitting nurse that her patient was on total bed rest. She went ahead and read Dr. Rothsberg’s analysis and realized therapeutic paracentesis was likely in the petite Hollywood personality’s future.

Deep in her work, she glanced up to find Joe smiling at her. “I brought you something,” he said, then handed her a brown bag with something inside that smelled out of this world.

She stood to take the bag over the countertop, inhaled and couldn’t resist. “Mmm, what is it?”

“Your dinner. I was on a call in the vicinity of Fairfax, so I got you one of those deli sandwiches you gobbled down the last time we were there.”

“Turkey salad, cranberries and walnuts with bread dressing?”

“Yup.”

“Including the pickle?”

He nodded, as if offended she’d even suggest such an oversight.

“Well, thank you. I’ll be starving by the time my dinner break rolls around.”

“You’re welcome.” He got serious and leaned on his forearm, making sure to hold her gaze. “I’ve been thinking. We’ll have to get more organized now that you’re working and pack a lunch for you every day. We can still use Gabriella’s guidelines.”

“Sounds good.” Totally touched by his concern for her well-being, she fought that frequent urge to give him a hug. Fortunately the nurses’ station counter prevented it this time. “But please let me splurge on things like this once in a while.” She held up the deli bag.

He winked, and it seemed a dozen butterflies had forced their way into her chest and now attempted to fly off with her heart. Since she’d decided to keep living with him, he’d changed. He’d become easier to talk to, and though he still hadn’t opened up he’d quit grinding his teeth so much. Truth was, the man could only suppress his wonderful nature for so long. Now she was the lucky recipient of his thoughtfulness and loving every second of it.

“See you later,” he said, making a U-turn and heading off the ward. The perfectly fitting light blue polo shirt showed off his broad shoulders, accentuating his trim waist, the multi-purpose khaki cargo pants still managing to hug his buns just right, and those sexy-as-hell black paramedic utility boots... She guiltily watched his every move until he was out of sight. Wow, it looked like she didn’t have to worry about her sick relationship with Ross at the end before she’d run away, and ruining her natural sex drive. She’d faked interest and excitement with him for her safety. Now, with Joe, without even trying, the most natural thoughts of all had awakened some super-hot fantasies. Like the desire to make love and really mean it. What would that be like with Joe?

“Uh-huh. Nice.” One of the other nurses in the area had joined her in staring at the masculine work of art as he’d swaggered out the door. How could a guy not swagger, wearing those boots?

Getting caught ogling Joe made Carey’s cheeks heat up, especially after what she’d just been thinking, so she tossed a sheepish look at the nurse then delved back into the admission packet for the actress.

* * *

Joe went straight to the clinic’s paramedic station just off the ER to check on the EMT staff. He knew the emergency nurses sometimes got upset if the guys didn’t help out when things got busy. Joe was always prepared to intervene and explain that wasn’t their job, and the RNs didn’t need to get all worked up about the EMS guys sitting for half a minute, waiting for the next call. On the other hand, he’d insisted to his guys that if a nurse said she needed more muscle, and they weren’t doing anything at the time, they should jump to it and help out with lifts and transfers. Keeping RNs happy was always a good idea. He’d also taken to suggesting the guys hang out in their truck on downtime rather than at the tiny desk with two computers designated as their work station, so as not to complicate things in the ER.

Not taking his own advice, he took a seat and brought up the evening’s schedule, and in the process sat in the vicinity of James, who was conferring on the phone about a patient he’d just admitted to Carey’s floor with liver issues. James nodded and smiled at Joe, and Joe returned the courtesy.

Soon James hung up. “How’s that scar doing? Any more tearing with your workouts, you beast?”

Joe laughed. “I’m all healed. Thanks.” Joe saw James’s sister, Freya, appear across the ER, obviously looking for someone.

“There you are,” she said over the other heads, immediately making her way toward James.

James ducked down in an obvious fashion. “Oh, boy. Here we go,” he said jokingly in an aside to Joe. “What does she want this time?” He raised his voice to tease his younger sister.

Knowing from their rocky history that the brother and sister’s relationship had never been better since Freya had come to The Hollywood Hills Clinic as a sought-after public relations guru, Joe chuckled at James’s wisecrack.

“There you are,” Freya said, her dark blue eyes sparkling under the fluorescent ER lights. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but I need a firm date for when you’ll visit the Bright Hope Clinic. Here’s my calendar, I’ve highlighted the best days and times for me and them. What works for you?” She shoved her small internet tablet calendar in front of James, making it impossible for him not to pick a day and time.

Her long brown hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail that waved down her back, nearly to her waist, yet she still looked like she could be royalty. Hollywood royalty, that was. Joe had heard rumors about her once having had to go to rehab for anorexia, but from the healthy, happy-looking pregnant woman standing before him he’d have never guessed.

James took a deep inhale and scrolled through his smartphone calendar, matching day for day, saying, “No. Nope. Not that one either. Hmm, maybe this one? September the first or the second?”

“Let’s take the first.” Freya quickly highlighted that day. “It is now written in stone. Do you hear me? There’s no getting out of it. You’ll show up and do those publicity photos in the clinic in South Central and smile like you mean it.”

“Of course I’ll mean it. I’m going for the children.”

“I know, but you know.” They passed a secret brother-sister glance, telling an entirely different story than the simple making of plans for publicity shots. Joe deduced that since Dr. Mila Brightman ran Bright Hope, she was the issue. She happened to be Freya’s best friend, and also the woman James had stood up on their wedding day. Or, at least, that was the scuttlebutt Stephanie the receptionist had told Joe one day on a break over coffee in the cafeteria. It had happened before Joe had started working there, she’d said, so all he could do was take Stephanie’s word for it. The woman really was a gossip. But, damn, if that was the case, no wonder James hesitated about going. How could he face her after dumping her on the day of her dream wedding?

Having achieved her purpose, Freya rushed off, no doubt wanting to end her day and get home to her husband Zack.

“The last thing I want to do is upset a pregnant lady,” James said to Joe in passing, “but, hey, you know all about that, right?”

The casual comment took Joe by surprise. At first he thought James was referring to his ex, Angela, but then realized he must have been referring to Jane Doe, aka Carey, who lived with him and happened to be just shy of four months pregnant.

“Tell me about it,” Joe said, hoping he’d recovered quickly enough not to seem like a bonehead, and pretending that pregnant ladies were indeed unpredictable and demanding, while knowing for a fact Carey was anything but.

* * *

On Friday night, at the end of the first week on the job for Carey, Joe insisted they stop for a fast-food burger on the way home. How could she have been in California for three weeks and not tried one? They didn’t even bother to wait to get home but devoured them immediately on the drive. Even though it definitely wasn’t on her second-trimester diet list, she’d never tasted a better cheeseburger in her life.

“My parents are having a barbecue on the Fourth of July,” Joe said, his mouth half-full, one hand on the steering wheel, the other clutching a double cheeseburger.

A national holiday had been the last thing on her mind lately. Plans seemed incomprehensible. She thought of that dreary apartment she’d almost taken and shivered at the thought of being on her own there, especially on the Fourth of July, grateful to have Joe’s sweet house and lovely garden in the back to look at. She’d be just fine.

“Do you want to come? They’d love to have you.”

What? He was inviting her to his parents’ home? Why? Out of his usual sense of obligation? “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“I want to, and my whole family’s going to be there so you can meet my sisters and brothers, too.”

“Do they know about me?” Why was he pushing to take her?

“I have a prying mother and a loose-lipped sister. Mom’s got this sixth sense about changes in my life, no doubt recently fueled by Lori loaning out some clothes.”

“The whole story?” She really didn’t want her personal failures shared, especially with Joe’s family.

He shook his head and took another bite of his burger. “I wouldn’t do that. You know better. But you said you wanted to be friends, and I take my friends to family barbecues.”

She’d put her foot down when she’d decided to stay with him. He’d agreed to consider her a friend. If this was his way of proving it, as confusing as it would be for her, not to mention nerve-racking, she really shouldn’t refuse to meet his family. It might set things back if she didn’t.

“Then I guess I’ll have to go.” She played coy, but cautious contentment she hadn’t felt in ages settled in a warm place behind her breastbone. This was more proof that Joe was nothing like Ross. He pushed her to get out and do things, got her a job, and now he wanted her to meet his family on Independence Day no less. Wow, what did it all mean?

Joe finished his hamburger as they neared his house. It’d tasted great, as always, but now his stomach felt a little unsettled. He’d tried not to think about the ramifications of what he’d just done, but couldn’t avoid it. Trust, or lack thereof, in women in general and Carey, by reason of her gender, made him have second thoughts about the invitation. The gift of Angela’s infidelity just kept on giving.

Maybe he’d jumped the gun in asking her to his parents’ Fourth of July party. It was too soon. She might get the wrong impression and he wasn’t anywhere ready to get close to her. He pulled into the driveway and rather than pull into the garage he parked under the small carport instead. It wasn’t like he could change the date of Independence Day, and for the record he wondered if he’d ever be in a place to trust a woman again, whether next week or two years from now.

But the damage had been done. He’d asked Carey to go along, and he couldn’t very well take the invitation back. He’d just have to live with it.

Once home, Carey went directly to her room to change her clothes, planning to watch a little TV to unwind after another busy evening shift at the end of her first week. But not without noticing a shift in his mood since he’d issued, and she’d accepted, the invitation to his parents’ Fourth of July barbecue. When she came back, Joe was already working out on the patio, hitting his punching bag like it was a full-out enemy. For someone who’d just wolfed down a double-double cheeseburger, French fries and a large soda, he looked the picture of health.

Feeling a bit guilt-ridden, she wandered into the dining room to have a better look, wondering if he’d taken his T-shirt off for her benefit. She particularly loved watching the muscles on his back ripple whenever he landed a good punch. She stood quietly, taking in the whole workout, admiring every inch of him.

Before she’d run away, she’d worried about ever having normal desire for a man again. Faking love with Ross had scarred her more than she’d ever dreamed. But it hadn’t stopped there. Ross had dominated her entire existence to the point of making her fear for her life. How could she ever desire a man who’d treated her like that?

Yet Joe, without even trying, brought out her most basic feelings. He turned her on. So confusing. Maybe she could blame that on the concussion or the pregnancy. Yet what a relief to know she was still a red-blooded woman with a normal sex drive.

With his back to her, he grunted and huffed as he punched the bag, and she could swear the muscles on his shoulders and arms grew more cut by the moment. Needing to either bite her knuckle to keep from groaning or do something to cool herself off, she chose to head to the kitchen for a bottle of water. When she opened the refrigerator, she grabbed one for Joe, too.

This time making her presence known, she went out onto the patio, setting his water near him. “You’re making me feel very guilty about having that burger and not intending to do my preggers exercises tonight, you know.”

Joe laughed, and because of it messed up his timing and the punch nearly missed the bag altogether. He went for the bottle. “Thanks.” Carey enjoyed watching his Adam’s apple move up and down his throat while he gulped the water. A few drops dribbled down his chest. Yeah, she noticed that, too.

Her eyes drifted to the jagged scar running across his ribs, still red and tender-looking. He’d been stabbed rescuing her. The thought seemed surreal and sent a barrage of intense feelings ranging from gratitude to lust to guilt rushing through her. On impulse she walked toward him, reached out and gingerly ran her fingers across the scar. His skin was damp, smooth and...

She slowly lifted her gaze from the fit washboard abs to his chest and the pumped pecs lightly dusted in dark hair, then onward to his strong chin and inviting mouth and last to his intensely brown, almost black with desire, eyes.

The moment, when they were up close and locked into each other’s stare like that, shuddered through her.

Feeling absurdly out of character in general, and especially because she was four months pregnant, she ignored her insecurities, focusing only on the consuming pull between them, making a trail with her fingertips across the expanse of his muscled torso, along the broad rim of his shoulder, then upward to his jaw.

She swallowed lightly in edgy anticipation.

He didn’t move, just kept willing her into the depth of his eyes, and she knew without a doubt he was as into this moment as she was. So she edged closer, lifted her chin and, though feeling breathy from nerves, she went for it, covering his mouth with a full-on kiss.

CHAPTER SIX

IF JOE LET Carey’s kiss continue, he’d have to take her all the way and probably scare her half to death with his need. The mere touch of her lips had unleashed pure desire, like a lightning bolt straight down his spine.

But he knew Carey well enough now, and the woman was trying to show her gratitude for his saving her and taking her in. He didn’t want gratitude, or, if she knew his whole story, pity, or anything else. All he wanted was to get lost in her body, to make love.

He broke off the kiss to get things straight. “I don’t expect anything from you. You don’t have to—”

She didn’t listen or give him a chance to call her out, she just kissed him again, and, damn it, those lips he’d so often admired on the sly felt better kissing him than he could ever have imagined. He quit fighting his need and pulled her near, devouring her mouth, half hoping she’d get scared and back off so that what was otherwise inevitable wouldn’t happen. But the hard and desperate kiss only seemed to fan her need as much as his as she pressed her body flush with his.

He could handle this, wouldn’t lose control. They’d just make out for a while then call it quits. But then there was the feel of her lips, smooth, plump, that inviting-as-all-hell tongue, and the touch of her fingertips at the back of his neck and on his shoulders. The sound of her deep breathing, the scent of coconut in her hair, and especially those little turned-on sounds escaping her throat made it so hard to not completely let go. And, damn, that wasn’t the only thing that was hard. Yeah, he was pumped, horny, and making out with a woman who seemed to want him as badly as he needed her.

This was about sex. Against a wall. He needed to look into her eyes, to see if she really was as into this as he was, because he wouldn’t take her if she wasn’t. Electricity seemed to run through his veins, maybe partly because he was worked up from boxing, but most definitely from holding and kissing her. Surely she felt that electricity too. If she was just looking for some comforting necking, she’d come on way too strong, so it was best to check things out. Figure out where she was at before he let loose. He placed his thumbs in front of her ears, his fingers digging into that thick and gorgeous auburn hair, and though hating to separate their mouths he moved her head back.

Carey seemed dazed and was breathless, so it took a moment for her to connect with his stare. Her eyelids fluttered open and maybe Joe’s interpretation was skewed from wanting her so much, but her eyes were on fire. For him.

Her nostrils flared and she breathed quickly. “Please don’t stop,” she whispered. “This has nothing to do with gratitude, believe me.” She kissed him again, and the dam of unspoken longing, secret desire, and flat-out need totally broke.

She wanted him. He wanted her. Tonight he’d have her.

He walked her backwards, reached under the back of her thighs and lifted her as he did so. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and soon her back was against a well-secluded wall in the corner of the patio. She’d already pulled her top over her head by the time they’d gotten there, and once at the wall, just as quickly, she released her full breasts from the constraints of the bra.

He looked down. The view of their chests mashed together exhilarated him, the hot, soft feel of her breasts even better. But she was hungry for his mouth and wanted all his attention there. So he obliged. He wedged her tight against the wall, sitting her on the edge of a book case, leaning into her, weaving his fingers with hers and lifting her arms flush to the plaster so he could be closer still. She moaned, enjoying the full body contact every bit as much as he did. He inhaled her sweet-scented neck and nuzzled it deep with kisses. She liked it, moaning again and bucking her hips just above his full erection, causing more lightning bolts along his spine.

Soon Carey wiggled off his hips, standing just long enough to tug down his boxing shorts and her yoga pants. She took the time to run her hand along his glutes and give them an appreciative squeeze as she stepped up close and hugged him again.

His erection landed between their bodies and the surge of sensation from her skin to his nearly sent him over the top. God, he wanted her. And she obviously wanted him. Right then.

He may be sterile and she pregnant, but he still knew the purpose of protected sex, and it wasn’t all about birth control. Any guy his age had a stash of condoms, even though lately he hadn’t been in the least bit interested in getting involved enough with a woman to use them...until Carey.

Living with Carey these past few weeks had made him very much aware of where those condoms were, too. “One second.” He stopped pressing her to the wall, and regretfully removed himself from between her gorgeous thighs. “Don’t move.” He stepped back and his eyes took her in, in all her lush splendor. God, he wanted her.

Joe zipped around the wall to his bedroom and returned in record time, afraid she might have already changed her mind.

She wasn’t there. His heart sank.

“I’m in the bathroom. I’ll be right there!”

The wall was looking less and less appealing so he went into his bedroom and pulled back the covers on his king-sized bed, finding it hard to believe he’d soon be making love to Carey.

* * *

Carey never had expected to be having sex with Joe tonight, but now that she’d started it, and sex was definitely on the table, or nearly against the wall in their case, she wanted to freshen up. Ross may have scarred her but Joe could heal her. She didn’t expect anything more than tonight, just the chance to find out she could let go and be with him, someone new, different, better than toxic Ross. If she didn’t take this opportunity, she might never get over her past or feel normal again.

She stepped into the hall to find Joe waiting for her, having made the mistake of glancing at her pregnant abdomen just before she did. A wave of insecurity nearly made her back out, but the instant she saw his Adonis-like form, and the unadulterated desire in his eyes, every insecure thought left her mind. She wanted Joe more than she’d ever wanted to be with any man.

She rushed to him and he picked her up again, her cooler skin crashing with his hot damp flesh. She inhaled his musky scent and grew hungrier for him. He carried her to his bed and, probably because she was pregnant, laid her down gently. Frantic for him, she’d have none of that, pulling him firmly toward her, and impatiently bucked under him.

He had other plans, though, and took his time exploring her body, figuring out what excited her and what drove her wild. Just about everything at this point! On his side, facing her, he rested on one arm, lowering and lifting his head to kiss her mouth, her neck, her breasts, while his free hand cupped her and explored her most intimate area. Breathless with longing, sensations zinging every which way through her body, she never wanted the intensified make-out session to end. Until, very soon, the mounting desire was too much and she needed him, all of him, inside her.

She rolled onto her side, throwing her leg over his hip, straddled him and pushed him back onto the mattress. From his firm feel she had zero worries whether he was ready or not. She slid her awakened center, thanks to his earlier attentions, along his length, thrilling at the feel of it and the thought of him soon being inside her. He’d already made her wet so she skimmed along his smooth ridge with ease, several times, stimulating herself more than she thought she could take. He definitely liked it.

But stopping her in mid-skim, as if he might lose control, he sheathed himself in record time then, taking control, placed her on her side with her back to his chest. One arm was underneath her and that hand cupped her breast while the other dipped between her thighs and opened her, rubbing the amazingly sensitive area, and she was soon straining at the onslaught of arousal. She moaned in bliss and Joe, being definitely ready, tilted her hips back, making her swaybacked, then entered her.

The culmination of sensations as he pressed into her took her breath away. She rolled with him, taking in every electrifying thrust. His hands remained attentive in those other strategic places as friction built deep inside, knotting behind her navel and lower. Heat lapped up the base of her spine, across her hips and over her breasts, flooding the skin on her chest and cheeks. She could feel the fully ignited body flush nearly burning her skin. If possible, he felt even harder now and an absurd thought occurred to her. She was making love with him, Joe! It wasn’t a wish or a fantasy or a secret dream anymore. It was really happening.

Maybe it was the added hormones of pregnancy, and more probably it was the undivided attention from Joe, but she’d never, ever been this turned on in her life. With her entire body tingling and covered in goose bumps, running hot with sensations—not to mention the involuntary sounds escaping her throat—there would be no guessing on his part about how he made her feel. Freaking amazing.

She couldn’t take more than a few minutes of the intense sensory overload without completely giving in to it. His pumping into her, slowing down and drawing out every last response, then speeding up at the perfect moment to drive her near the flashpoint soon became her undoing. She turned her head and found his mouth. They kissed wildly, wet and deep.

When she came, her center seemed to explode with nerve endings lighting up, zinging and zipping everywhere as they relayed their ecstatic message deep throughout her body. She gasped and writhed against him, riding the incredible wave for all it was worth, while sensing his time was near. Soon his low, elongated moan became the sweetest music she’d ever heard.

* * *

It had taken several minutes for things to settle down between Joe and Carey. He’d briefly jumped out of bed for the bathroom to take care of business, returning to find she’d probably done the same. He smiled when she came back with the fresh flush of lovemaking on her face and across her chest. Though she’d run a brush through her hair, it was still wildly appealing. He continued floating on the post-sex euphoric cloud when she crawled back into bed beside him. He’d just had mind-blowing sex with an amazing lady and he felt great. Beyond great. He pulled her close, delivered a sweetheart kiss then snuggled in, savoring the afterglow between them. But it was late and they’d worn each other out.

Within a few short minutes Carey fell asleep. She’d gone still, wrapped in his arms, then her breathing shifted to a slower, deeper rhythm. It felt right, holding her, breathing in her scented hair, touching her soft skin and womanly body. But sleep wasn’t ready to come to Joe.

His hand dropped over her abdomen and the noticeable early second-trimester bump. It jolted him. His mind raced with comparisons with another woman and another time. He’d avoided the thought long enough, now it wouldn’t let him go.

What the hell had he just done? He’d ruined everything.

The battle in his mind continued with rival thoughts. He had to be honest, he’d wanted this more than anything, and being with Carey had been on his mind for longer than he cared to admit. She’d knocked every sensible thought out of his head just by being the wonderfully appealing, sweet woman she was. The sexy-as-hell—and who’d just proved it beyond a doubt—mother-to-be.

Yes, she was pregnant with another man’s baby, and though the circumstances were totally different, the scenario seemed too damn familiar.

Also, Joe worried that Carey was confusing gratitude with desire. She’d denied it when he’d bluntly asked her, but they were both obviously under some voodoo spell when it came to each other. He wouldn’t dare call it love. Hell, she’d just escaped a toxic, abusive relationship. Any decent guy, and Joe considered himself one of the good guys, would be an improvement.

Back and forth he silently argued, feeding his confusion rather than solving anything. He’d essentially been acting like a partner to Carey in all but name—how had he not seen that before? It’d started with the staggering need to protect her and moved on to bringing her home. They’d lived together for almost a month, sharing the little everyday things that true couples did. He was the first person other than the midwife to see Baby Spencer in the ultrasound. He’d secretly teared up, seeing how the fetus already sucked its thumb and had a tiny turned-up nose in the profile. She’d even asked him to go to the next doctor’s appointment with her, too, joking she was worried she’d forget something, and he’d been following her pregnancy like an auditor.

Just like he’d done with Angela at the beginning of her pregnancy.

What had possessed him to step into the role of being Carey’s partner in the parenting class? He squeezed his eyes tight, avoiding the answer, holding her a little tighter than before. It wasn’t out of pity for her being the only one enrolled without a significant other—no, he had to be honest. It was because he’d wanted to. Maybe even needed to.

Did he enjoy getting kicked in the teeth?

Damn it, for one of the good guys he was really screwed up. Losing Angela had nearly done him in, along with getting hit by the hardest dose of reality in his life. He was sterile. He’d never be a father. And Angela had cheated on him, taking the task of getting pregnant to his best friend, Rico.

In time he’d lose Carey and her baby, too, once she got back on her own two feet again. Just like he’d lost Angela and the baby he’d once thought was his for a brief but ecstatic period of time.

He slipped out of bed, unable to stay close another second to the woman who’d just thrown his entire world on its head. He pulled on his boxing trunks, went to the kitchen and drank a full glass of water, then walked to the couch and sat. Being away from her spell helped his body settle down. His mind was another story altogether, though. He folded his arms across his chest, plopped his feet on the coffee table and, using the TV controller, turned to an old black and white movie with the sound muted. Fortunately it dulled his thoughts and little by little, as the dark drama unfolded and minutes passed, he finally drifted off to sleep.

* * *

“Joe? What are you doing out here?”

Sunshine slipped through the cracks in the living-room window blinds on Saturday morning. Joe eased open one eye from where his face was mashed against the armrest cushion on the couch. “Huh? Oh, I couldn’t sleep and I didn’t want to wake you so I came out here.”

“I was worried I’d snored or something.” She’d obviously tried to lighten the mood, so he laughed easily, as if nothing was wrong at all. She looked nearly angelic, standing with the window behind her, her silhouette outlined by bright morning light. She was wearing an oversized T-shirt with those long, slender legs completely bare. It made him want her all over again, but that was the last thing he should ever do.

“No.” He scrubbed his face, trying to wake up, realizing she hadn’t bought his explanation, and he needed to be straight with her. “You didn’t snore.” Yeah, he had to nip this in the bud and, though it might sting today, she’d thank him later for sparing her more pain.

“What’s up, Joe? I don’t have a good feeling about us having sex and then you sneaking off to the couch.”

He wasn’t ready to look at her, and when he told her his thoughts she deserved his undivided attention. “I need some coffee.” He stood and she followed him into the kitchen. He glanced at her before he got on the job of filling the coffeemaker and saw the frightened and forlorn woman he’d first seen at the bus station. It made him feel sick to do that to her so he stopped avoiding the moment and grabbed one of her hands. “Look.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry we crossed the line last night. It was fantastic, amazing, and a huge mistake.”

“No. It was totally okay with me. Couldn’t you tell?” She searched his eyes, looking for answers. It made him look down at the hand he held. “In fact, it was an incredible night. I never dreamed making love with you could be so wonderful.”

He glanced upward, finding those eyes...greener in the morning light. “It was great, but things are too confused between us. You need time to heal from your lousy relationship with Ross, and the most important thing in your life right now should be your baby. Focus on the baby, instead of getting all involved with me. Not that I didn’t love what we did in there last night, it’s just that we’re dangerous for each other right now. I shouldn’t take time and energy away from you focusing on what you want to do with your life. I’ll just interfere, and you need to think what’s best for you, not anyone else.”

Who was he kidding, laying all the excuses at Carey’s feet? He still wasn’t ready to trust another woman, to open up about the pain of his wife’s infidelity. And that’s what he’d need to do in order to be with someone new. Her. It was why he’d been living like a workaholic hermit all this time. What would she think of him if she knew how scared he was to tell her the truth, and if he wasn’t ready to be completely honest, what was the point of being with her?

He pulled her close and held her, and it hurt to feel her stiffen when he wanted to love her. But now he had to push her away because she deserved better. She deserved a future of her own making. All he’d do was mess things up. “We both have a lot going on in our lives right now and it isn’t a good time to confuse things even more with sex.” He pulled back to engage with her eyes, but she was now the one avoiding eye contact. “And, believe me, that was incredibly hard to say, because I wanted you like I’ve never wanted anyone else last night.”

It seemed she’d stopped breathing, a dejected expression changing her beauty to sadness. He felt queasy, like he’d already finished the pot of coffee and the acid lapped the inside of his stomach. But he forged on because he had to.

“It’s not right for us to be together now. Our timing is off. We just have to face that. And no one is sorrier than me.”

Something clicked behind those beautiful eyes. Her demeanor shifted from tender and hurting to world-weary chick. “Yeah, you’re right. It really was stupid.” She pecked his cheek with a near air kiss. “Now I need to shower.”

He watched her walk away, her head high and shoulders stiff. In that moment he hated more than anything having given her a reality check, and the thought of drinking a cup of coffee made him want to puke.

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