THE DOCTOR’S

PREGNANT BRIDE?

SUSAN CROSBY

AND

THE TEXAS

BILLIONAIRE’S

BABY

KAREN ROSE SMITH

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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THE DOCTOR’S

PREGNANT BRIDE?

SUSAN CROSBY

About the Author

SUSAN CROSBY believes in the value of setting goals, but also in the magic of making wishes, which often do come true—as long as she works hard enough. Along life’s journey she’s done a lot of the usual things—married, had children, attended college a little later than the average co-ed and earned a BA in English. Then she dove off the deep end into a full-time writing career, a wish come true.

Susan enjoys writing about people who take a chance on love, sometimes against all odds. She loves warm, strong heroes and good-hearted, self-reliant heroines, and she will always believe in happily ever after.

More can be learned about her at www.susancrosby.com.

Dear Reader,

One of life’s biggest heartbreaks can be someone’s inability to conceive a child. Doctors and researchers have worked tirelessly to change that painful situation, with increasing success. My hero, Ted Bonner, is such a doctor, a man on a mission to treat infertility. I imagine him to be like so many others in that field: dedicated, devoted and driven.

But Ted needs balance in his life, too. So along comes nurse Sara Beth O’Connell, a woman just as dedicated to her work, but one who also knows how to relax—and to love. She has a lot to teach Dr Bonner.

I had a great time playing in the same sandbox with the other terrific and talented authors in this series. I hope you enjoy the results of the fun we all had.

All my best,

Susan

To Paul, aka “Fandango,” fellow foodie, with great

appreciation—for your indefatigable help with

research, legal and otherwise, and for all the

times you crack me up. Thank you.

Chapter One

Sara Beth O’Connell slowed her bike to a stop at a red light, her gaze fixed on it. Red, the color of hearts and roses—

A car honked, jolting her into action. She pedaled through the intersection, picking up the bike lane again on the other side. The air was unusually mild and the traffic Sunday-afternoon light in Cambridge, Massachusetts, giving her time to think, time to decide that she wasn’t really bothered by not having a date on Valentine’s Day. It was more about what being dateless implied—that there was no one special enough in her life to spend the romantic evening with.

So what, right? No big deal. Only the minute hand on her biological clock was ticking, not the hour hand.

And then there was the man in the grocery store earlier …

Sara Beth tossed her head, her bike helmet preventing her long hair from falling into her face as she rode into the employee parking lot of the Armstrong Fertility Institute, the understated but modern structure where she worked as head nurse. Eyeing Lisa Armstrong’s car in the distance, she locked her bike to a rack, then moved to the employee entrance. She slid her ID card into the security reader and pressed her thumb against a pad until a buzzer went off, unlocking the door.

Once inside, her footsteps barely registered in the quiet building as she headed to Lisa’s office, finding her door open. The head administrator of the institute, a research center and fertility clinic, sat in front of her computer, her slender frame hunched, her dark eyes focused on the screen.

Sara Beth drew a calming breath, not because she was annoyed that Lisa had called her into the office on a Sunday, but because of the memory of the man Sara Beth had seen that morning buying a stuffed teddy and gummy bears for his five-year-old daughter. My Valentine, he’d called her when the clerk commented on the items. Sara Beth hadn’t been lucky enough to have a father do that for her. This morning’s reminder of that loss curled painfully inside her.

Ignoring the flash of pain, she set her helmet on top of a file cabinet, unzipped her jacket then plopped into a chair on the other side of Lisa’s desk. “What’s so all-fired important that it couldn’t wait until tomorrow? Or you couldn’t tell me on the phone?”

Lisa blinked. “You have something better to do?”

“Just because you work 24/7 doesn’t mean I have to, you know,” Sara Beth said, not letting Lisa off easy. “It is Valentine’s Day.”

Lisa’s smile was a little crooked. Her dark eyes shimmered knowingly. “You don’t have a date.”

“How do you know?”

“How long have we been best friends, Sara Beth?”

Sarah Beth pulled off her jacket, not wanting to make eye contact, not wanting Lisa to play the best-friends card for whatever it was she’d called Sara Beth in on a Sunday for. “Since before we spoke our first words.”

“Twenty-eight years. If you had a date tonight, I would know.” Lisa sat back, looking satisfied with herself. “You tell me everything.”

“Not everything.”

“Everything important.”

Sara Beth sniffed. “A date on Valentine’s Day isn’t important.”

Lisa laughed.

After a moment, Sara Beth smiled. “So, what’s up? Why the command performance?”

Lisa lowered her voice. “Shut the door, please.”

“Someone else is in the building?” Sara Beth asked, complying. “Someone else doesn’t know that weekends are for relaxation?”

“As a matter of fact—Dr. Bonner.”

Which meant he didn’t have a date, either. If a man like Ted Bonner didn’t have a date, she couldn’t feel sorry for herself. Except, he still could have dinner plans. It wasn’t too late for that. She wouldn’t have minded going out with him herself.…

“This has something to do with Dr. Bonner?” Sara Beth asked.

“Everything to do with him. You know the investigation he’s supposed to be running on the protocol errors he and Dr. Demetrios discovered right after we hired them a few months back?”

“Of course.”

“They haven’t come up with results yet. We’ve learned that some outsiders are starting to question our recent cluster of multiple births. Bad press will hurt us, especially our funding. We already narrowly escaped a disaster when that magazine article was published a while back about donor eggs being misused here. We can’t afford another problem, or even a hint of one. We need answers, Sara Beth, before the press gets wind of this one.”

“Not just answers but exoneration,” Sara Beth said.

“Well, yes, of course, but first and foremost, we need to know whether information has been falsified or breached in the past—or whatever the truth is. And we need to know now.”

“How does that affect me?”

Lisa leaned her elbows on her desk. “We want you to assist Drs. Bonner and Demetrios so that the project gets done. You will report to us if they’re doing anything to stall the investigation.”

She would be working directly for the man she’d had a serious lust for since she’d first laid eyes on him?

“Um, us?” she asked.

“Paul and me.”

“Why would the doctors stall? They weren’t part of the problem, if there is a problem. It happened before they were hired.”

“Because even a whisper of scandal could affect donations and grant money, which will limit Dr. Bonner’s and Dr. Demetrios’s hope of success in their research—not to mention the institute’s reputation and credibility. If something unethical has been going on, our funds could dry up and their jobs could be eliminated. Wouldn’t you stall if that was about to happen to you?”

Sara Beth didn’t believe she would, but that was her. “So you’re asking me to spy on them?”

“I wouldn’t call it that. We’re just lighting a fire under the doctors to get action before we get burned on this. You love the institute, and my father. This has to be important to you.”

“Absolutely.” The institute, and especially its founder, Dr. Gerald Armstrong, had been very generous to Sara Beth’s mother so that she could retire early and comfortably. He’d been good to Sara Beth, as well.

“You’re loyal to me, too,” Lisa said.

“It goes without saying. Not just you, but also your brother Paul as chief of staff. But you know how I feel about deceit.” Most of her life Sara Beth had been haunted by not knowing who her father was, which felt like an enormous deceit to her. All she knew was he’d been a sperm donor here at the fertility institute founded by Lisa’s father, whom Sara Beth affectionately called Dr. G.

Anonymous donors never brought teddy bears or candy on Valentine’s Day. Or sent birthday cards. Or pretended to be Santa. Or tucked a tired little girl in bed at night. Only a father did that.

“I do know how you feel about deceit,” Lisa said. “That’s my point. You could be uncovering a lie. Isn’t that reason enough?”

Sara Beth wandered to the window but didn’t really take in the sights. Could she pull it off?

Lisa joined her. “You’re the eyes and ears of the institute, because in your job capacity you bridge both aspects of what we do, the medical and the research programs. You haven’t hesitated to tell me when you’ve noticed something needing looking into, so how is this any different? Except that this time you’re being assigned to observe and report something specific. Otherwise it’s business as usual.”

Lisa had a point. “What if they don’t want me on board?”

“They won’t have a choice.”

“But how effective can I be if they won’t cooperate?”

“When did you become such a worrier?” Lisa cocked her head. “You’ve always been optimistic and adventurous. What’s going on?”

Sara Beth couldn’t share what was going on, not this time, because she wasn’t sure herself, except that lately, and especially today, she’d been feeling a little lost. Left out.

Lonely. She was missing a father she’d never known, and wishing for a man in her life, as well, a man to love and cherish, and be a hands-on father to whatever children they were blessed with.

She loved her job, but she didn’t want to end up like her mother, who’d never married, having been married to the institute. And yet Sara Beth could see that she was following in her mother’s footsteps, even taking on the job of head nurse, like her mom. Where had Sara Beth’s adventurousness gone?

Being asked to spy for the good of the institute would be an adventure of sorts, wouldn’t it? More important, their work was critical to the many people whose deepest dreams they helped fulfill—having a child.

“All right. I’ll do it.”

“Thank you.” Relief coated Lisa’s quiet words. “Let’s go talk to Dr. Bonner.”

Sara Beth clamped her mouth against the “Now?” that threatened to come out. She wanted to face him in her official capacity, wearing her uniform, her scrubs. Instead she wore cycling pants, a Boston College T-shirt and her old, comfortable riding sneakers. She’d left her hair down instead of pulled away from her face as usual, out of her way, her helmet taking care of that problem.

It wasn’t the best way to start their new association, not as far as she was concerned, not if she wanted to keep a professional relationship—which she did. Unfortunately.

Sara Beth walked silently beside Lisa as they made their way through the cavernous hallways of the building, past the administration section, past examination rooms and consultation areas. During the workweek the hallways were alive with people. It wasn’t a boisterous place—the work they did was too important to be treated frivolously—but it was always pleasant, the employees chosen not only for their abilities but their personalities. No drama allowed.

Until now, she’d only seen Dr. Bonner in passing or through the windows of the lab where he did his research. His partner, Chance Demetrios, was much more social and talkative, plus he was also a practicing physician, not just a researcher. Sara Beth often assisted him in his ob-gyn practice, whereas Dr. Ted Bonner had apparently discovered that he was better suited to the lab than patients. His too-direct bedside manner evidently wasn’t the best for inspiring confidence or easing anyone’s fears.

At least, that was the rumor floating around about him. Since she’d rarely had a discussion with him longer than “Nice to meet you” or “Good morning,” she couldn’t verify anything else. She’d intentionally avoided conversations with him because her throat closed when she was around him, something that never happened with anyone else. She always wanted to comb his hair away from his forehead with her fingers, too.

When Sara Beth and Lisa reached the lab, they stood side by side peering through the glass at the man inside. Tall, dark and gorgeous was a cliché, but the description fit him, if in an intellectual way. His hair brushed his neck, but she figured he’d just forgotten to get a haircut lately. Every so often he got it cut, and when he did, it was very short, as if he couldn’t be bothered with regular trims.

He truly fit the stereotype of the absentminded professor: black-framed glasses; long white lab coat, pocket protector and all, his personal uniform; along with a white or blue dress shirt and dark slacks.

She shouldn’t find him sexy, but she did. She’d heard he often forgot to eat, which was probably why he was so lean and wiry, and which also made him look even taller than his well-over-six-foot frame.

Lisa knocked. He continued entering information into a computer, his fingers flying over the keyboard. She knocked again. Still no response. Sara Beth looked to see if he was wearing earbuds and listening to music. He was only thirty-two, of an age to blast tunes in his head and work at the same time. No earbuds were visible, no dangling cords, either.

“Let’s just wait until tomorrow,” Sara Beth said, tugging on Lisa’s arm. “He’s in some impenetrable zone, that’s for sure.”

“I wonder if a fire alarm would get his attention?”

Sara Beth stared at her friend. “You wouldn’t—”

“Of course not.” Lisa laughed. “I was thinking out loud. You know, what would happen if? Would he hear it in time to escape?”

“He can’t be that bad. Come on. Let’s just go. He’s doing important work, and we shouldn’t disturb—”

Lisa entered her security information, turned the doorknob and stepped inside. Sara Beth sighed and followed.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Bonner,” Lisa said as she drew close.

He didn’t startle, but Sara Beth saw awareness click in. For one thing, he blinked. He held up a hand briefly then continued to type.

Sara Beth glanced around the lab. The two waist-high lab tables were neat and orderly, even loaded with equipment as they were—microscopes with projection screens, computers, other high-tech pieces she couldn’t identify. Then there was the low-tech, standard lab equipment—stainless-steel sinks, glass vessels and tubes. Everything seemed to have its place, all order, no chaos.

Why aren’t you on a date tonight, Dr. Gorgeous? she wondered. He was young, handsome and gainfully employed. She’d always assumed he played the field as much as his inveterate-flirt research partner, Dr. Demetrios, did.

“Ms. Armstrong,” he said finally, turning toward Lisa. “And Ms. O’Connell. What can I do for you?” His gaze zeroed in and held on Sara Beth in an unnerving way as he gave her the same kind of complete attention he had given the computer just moments ago.

Not a multitasker, she decided, fascinated, as he took off his glasses and set them on the tabletop then shoved his fingers through his rich brown hair. She itched to do the same.

“I know you’ve been frustrated, Dr. Bonner,” Lisa said, “at being unable to find answers to the protocol problems.”

“An understatement.”

“Well, I’ve brought the cavalry.” Lisa turned toward Sara Beth. “We’ve decided to free up Sara Beth from some of her regular assignments and let her help you and Dr. Demetrios with your investigation.”

For a few long moments he stayed silent, his expression giving away nothing, then he said, “Her help is gratefully accepted.”

That was way too easy, Sara Beth thought. Which was a good thing, right? If they could work without dissension, they could cover a lot more ground more quickly. Maybe she wouldn’t feel as if she was spying, either. And maybe her pulse would stop pounding so hard.

“On one condition,” he added. “Call me Ted. You, too, Sara Beth.”

Sara Beth waited for Lisa’s reply. Lisa’s father, the institute’s founder, had always insisted on using titles. But then, not only was he retired, he was almost completely bedridden. He never came into the institute anymore.

Lisa’s shoulders relaxed. “Except in front of patients or VIPs.”

“Fair enough.”

“Should I call Dr. Demetrios or would you like to tell him?”

Ted pulled a cell phone from his pocket and pushed one button, then waited. “I hope I’m not disturbing you, Chance.” His brows went up at whatever Dr. Demetrios’s response was. “I’ll make it quick, then. I just wanted you to know that Ms. O’Connell will be assisting us for a while so that we can get to the bottom of the issues around here.… Yes, Sara Beth.… Yes, the one with the long, dark red hair. How many other Ms. O’Connells are there? You work with her every—Oh. A joke.”

He tipped the phone down. “When are you starting?”

“Immediately,” Lisa answered.

Pride made Sara Beth not want him to know she didn’t have a date for Valentine’s Day, so she started to say she would start the next day, but he spoke first.

“Is tomorrow okay?” he asked Sara Beth. “I have plans tonight.”

So. He did have a date. “That’d be fine.”

“Tomorrow,” Dr. Bonner said into the phone. “Yes, I’ll do that. Bye.”

He slid his phone back into his pocket. “Chance extends his thanks.”

“I’ll leave you two to work out a schedule.” Lisa headed toward the door. “Sara Beth, you can plan on giving ten to fifteen hours a week to the project.”

Then she was gone, and Sara Beth was left with Dr. Bon—Ted. Without Lisa as a buffer, they would have to talk.…

“I’m looking forward to working with you,” she said, twining her fingers. “I hope I can help you find the answers you need.”

“Me, too. It’s been frustrating. I’m a scientist. Discovering the truth is what I do.”

The way he said that made him seem like a superhero, a man whose ethical core was the heart and soul of him, as if truth mattered more than anything in the world.

“What can I do?” she asked.

“Nothing that you’ll find exciting. In fact, it’s tedious and painstaking, but it’s the only way to get the answers. We need to know if previous doctors implanted too many embryos or manipulated the statistics to boost the institute’s success numbers and therefore increase funding. So far we’ve been working with our more recent computerized records, but in order to dispute some of the claims, you might spend time reading old files from the archives vault, cross-checking and rechecking test results from before the institute switched to the new computer system.”

The archive vault? Whatever else he said was lost. The archive vault. The vault. She would have reason to go inside it.

Her heart thundered, a deafening pounding in her chest. What had been denied her all her life was within her reach—because in the vault was her mother’s medical file, detailing her artificial insemination.

A hundred times Sara Beth had almost asked Lisa to help her find that file, and a hundred times she’d decided not to risk their friendship by asking. Lisa never could have allowed it, even for her very best friend.

And now, if Sara Beth was lucky, she could find a reference to the name of the man who’d donated the sperm that had given her life.

Forget paper hearts. This could be her red-letter day.

Chapter Two

Ted stopped talking when he saw Sara Beth tune out, something that usually only happened to him when he was explaining data or experiment results, which wasn’t the case this time. He’d only been telling her what tasks in the investigation she could take on in order to speed things up.

She was looking straight at him, her dark brown eyes glazed over. Should he wait for her to refocus or try to snap her out of it?

He decided to give her a moment, noting that she looked different today. Younger.

Her hair was down and loose—that was it. She usually had it pulled back in a braid as no-nonsense as her personality. Not that she was cold, but professional. Always. At least with him. He’d perceived her as shy at first, then had seen her interact with others and was bewildered by how she always seemed to avoid him.

She’d caught his eye, of course, during the months he’d been working at the institute, but he’d seen what could happen when coworkers got involved romantically, so he’d avoided even engaging her in conversation, taking away any possibility of temptation at all.

When he and Chance had accepted the offer to come to Cambridge to continue their research, he’d vowed to himself that he would try to be more aware of the world around him, to be more social, but that plan had been foiled almost immediately. He’d questioned the institute’s various protocols, finding some statistics that didn’t seem feasible, exaggerating the institute’s success rate. Although he and Chance hadn’t been involved in or responsible for the questionable issues, it was up to them to find the answers.

For Ted, work was all consuming. His research to find a reliable way to treat male infertility took precedence, but clearing up the protocol issues came a close second. As for a personal life, he didn’t have one, and couldn’t figure out how Chance managed to have his practice, do research and still have time to date. Ted couldn’t manage all that.

He finally waved a hand in front of Sara Beth’s face.

She jerked back slightly, her cheeks brightening. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I don’t know where I went. You were saying?”

“You wanted to know what your duties would entail. I spelled them out.”

“Specifically what will I be looking for?”

He gestured her toward a tall lab chair, then sat in the one beside it. “Do you know what I found? What I’m trying to verify?”

“I’d like to hear your take on it.”

He got distracted by her sneakers, which she propped on the bottom rung, their scuffed toes at odds with her usually impeccable appearance. “You graduated from BC?” he asked, glancing at her T-shirt imprinted with the Boston College’s flying eagle mascot, Baldwin.

She frowned at the change of subject. “From the Connell School of Nursing, yes. The institute gave me a full scholarship.”

“I would venture to say you earned a full scholarship.”

She seemed to relax for the first time since she’d walked into the lab. “I always loved to study.”

“Me, too. I still do.”

She gave him a knowing smile, as if he’d stated the obvious, which he supposed he had. He much preferred the confines of his lab to dealing with patients on a daily basis. He hated imparting bad news. And in the infertility business, bad news came frequently. He was happier in the lab.

“So, you were going to tell me about what you found,” Sara Beth prompted.

“Shortly after Chance and I came on board here, we discovered that some of the lab’s protocols weren’t measuring up. Data was incomplete or missing. Statistics weren’t matching results. Just as we were digging into the problems, Keeping Up with Medicine ran that story alleging that donor eggs and sperm had been switched for some clients, which raised all sorts of ethical questions about how we do business.”

“The article never named the source of the allegations.”

“Nor confirmed them. Then they were proved unfounded and a retraction was made. But at the same time that we were working on that issue, we discovered an out-of-the-ordinary number of multiple births following in vitro over the past few years.”

“Which means what?”

“Numbers that big could pad the institute’s statistics, making the program seem more successful than it is. We have standards about how many embryos to implant. It looks like the standards might have been ignored. Because of the unusual success rate, the institute was able to obtain a lot more private donations and grant money than usual. Now the numbers are being challenged, and rightfully so.”

What he wasn’t telling her was that every step he’d taken to resolve the problems had been met with resistance by Derek Armstrong, Paul and Lisa’s brother and the institute’s CFO. Chance was the only person Ted had confided in about that—so far. He couldn’t make accusations without proof, but Ted suspected Derek was involved somehow, whether as part of a cover-up or something even worse.

“So, first of all,” Ted continued, “we need to prove or disprove the statistics. Then we need to create a best-practices manual of lab protocols, so if we’re ever questioned again, the answers will be readily available and backed up. I can use all the help I can get. The institute’s reputation is on the line, but so is my ability to continue my research.”

She rubbed her hands together, as if anxious to get started right away. “I’ll check the appointment schedule for the rest of the week and see what I can do to rearrange things and free myself up. Would you prefer morning or afternoon?”

“First thing in the morning.”

She climbed off the chair and stuck out her hand. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He stayed seated, keeping himself closer to eye level. Her hand felt small in his, and warm, but also firm and direct. One of the traits he valued most in people was competency. She hadn’t been promoted to head nurse without proving her competency. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Sara Beth.”

“Thank you. I feel the same.”

He believed it. Her expression showed anticipation, as if she really couldn’t wait to get started. He’d tried to get across to her how tedious the work would be, especially if she had to work with the old files in the vault, poring over the folders. Well, she’d find out soon enough.

“Have a nice evening,” he said.

“You, too.” She headed toward the door, then turned around, walking backward. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

Valentine’s—Damn. “Oh, uh, same to you,” he said, but the door had already closed behind her.

Damn. Once again he’d screwed up. He glanced at his watch. He’d intended to leave more than an hour ago to buy a gift. Aside from the traditional, uncreative grocery-store offerings, what could he buy? When he’d lived in San Francisco he’d gotten away with having something sent, but Boston was home. He didn’t have that excuse anymore. He needed to take a personal gift this time, something thoughtful.

From the lab window he spotted Lisa outside standing next to Sara Beth, hugging her helmet and laughing, looking much more carefree than the Sara Beth who’d just left his lab.

He went still. Thoughts swirled. A plan formed. She might be of some help.…

Ted locked his computer, tossed his lab coat toward a hook, then raced out of the building as Lisa drove off. He encountered Sara Beth as she was buckling her helmet. Her face registered surprise—and a little wariness—as he descended on her.

“I know we barely know each other,” he said. “But hear me out, please.”

“Okay.” The word came out slowly, curiously.

“This is the first time I’ve been home for Valentine’s Day since I graduated from high school.”

“Boston is home?”

He just nodded. “I’m supposed to be at my parents’ house in forty-five minutes for dinner. I need to take a gift.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find roses at almost any market.”

“And my mother would say ‘how lovely’ and that would be that. I want to do better than that. I want you to be my parents’ gift.”

Her big brown eyes opened wide. “Excuse me?”

He was pretty sure if she hadn’t been straddling her bike, she would’ve taken a few steps back, deciding he was a mad scientist.

“If they think I’m dating someone, it’ll make them happier than anything I could buy.” He stopped short of begging, but appealed to the female tendency to nurture. “I know I’m asking an enormous favor. I know there’s no reason for you to say yes. You may—you probably do have a date already.”

Of course she would have plans, an attractive woman like her. He felt ridiculous now for asking.

“There’s not enough time,” she said finally, gesturing to her bike. “I would have to ride home and get myself ready.”

“We’re not formal. I’m wearing what I have on, just adding a sport coat.”

She gave him a skeptical look.

He nodded toward his car. “I’ve got a bike rack.”

Fifteen minutes later he pulled up in front of her beautiful old Victorian house, said he’d find a place to park, then come back with her bike, giving her no more time to answer than he had in the parking lot, not allowing her any opportunity to say no.

He understood now the expression about someone having a deer-in-the-headlights look. She mumbled something about how to get to her second-floor apartment, then headed toward the house.

He got lucky, coming across a car leaving just a block away. He hauled her bike to her place, where the front door was ajar. He climbed the stairs inside to her unit, where her door hung open.

“Where do you want this?” he asked, rolling her bike inside.

She pointed to an empty spot in the living room. “I’ll hurry.”

She rushed into a room down the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

Ted glanced around her living room. The house was probably built around the turn of the twentieth century, but had been remodeled recently, although still using original-looking hardwood floors, and an up-to-date kitchen with stainless-steel appliances. And yet the combined living room/dining area/kitchen space was also feminine. Flowers and pottery and bright colors and… comfort. Her furniture was built for sinking into, and looked inviting.

One of these days he would get around to buying his own sofa.

She had a nice view of the street. Most of the houses were from the same era, some better taken care of than others. She lived only blocks from the Red Line. She could take the subway or a bus to work, the bus being more practical—

What if he factored in twice as much of the primary enzyme …?

Ted grabbed a piece of paper and pen from her kitchen counter, sat down and started making notes, getting lost in a possibility he hadn’t considered before. Later—and he had no idea how much later—he felt a tap on his shoulder.

He lifted his head so sharply he knocked into her. She yelped, fell back, grabbed her chin. He caught her by the arm to keep her from falling, the back of his hand accidentally pressing into her breast, her firm breast, surprisingly full for such a petite woman.

He let go. She steadied herself, repeatedly rubbing her chin, her cheeks flushing a little, too.

“I apologize, Sara Beth.” He gestured toward the three pieces of paper he’d been using to capture his thoughts. “I didn’t hear you. Are you all right? May I take a look?”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I am a doctor, you know.”

“And I know nothing about medicine?”

He smiled at the teasing tone in her voice, ran his thumb over her chin. “Move your jaw.” Her lemon-scented perfume made his nose twitch and drew him closer. “Everything feel normal?”

“I’m fine. Really.” She stepped back, and he finally got a full picture of her. Basic black dress, with long sleeves, the neckline not too low or too high, a gold locket, her hair down and curled, high heels that gave her a few inches extra height, which was probably why he’d banged directly into her chin.

“You look nice,” he said, an understatement.

“Thank you.” She frowned slightly. “Are you sure we can pull this off? It’s kind of hard to pretend we’ve been dating when we really don’t know anything about each other.”

“We can exchange bios during the drive. If we say we’ve only recently started dating, they won’t expect us to know everything about each other.”

“Well, that much is the truth, anyway.” She grabbed her evening bag and keys. “It should be an adventure.”

“You think so?”

She nodded. “And adventure is my middle name.”

He couldn’t tell if she was serious or joking, then her eyes twinkled mischievously, and he found that appealing. He tended to date serious women—

Whoa. Wait. This wasn’t a date date. This was a please-rescue-me date. No kiss good-night at the door. No how-long-should-I-wait-to-call-her? dilemma. He’d see her at work in the morning, thank her again for her favor, then it would be business as usual.

It was a good plan, a solid plan. He liked plans.

“When will we break up?” Sara Beth asked as they walked to his car.

“When you’re fed up with my lack of attention.” As usual. The most common complaint he heard from women as they exited his life was, “You forgot I existed.”

He didn’t mean to. It just happened. He put most of his energies into his research. He had a good reason to find a solution to male infertility issues soon. A very good reason.

Yes, he wanted to help mankind, but he particularly wanted to help one man. Until then, Ted had given up his goal to be more social for a personal vow instead, a promise to devote his time and energy to the cause, putting his personal life on hold until he’d accomplished his goal.

Even though he felt ready—more than ready—to marry and have children, he would delay it. He couldn’t give his time to anything else but his research, nor ask a woman to sacrifice time with him so that he could reach his personal goal.

As Ted navigated streets and bridges, he gave Sara Beth a summary of his life. “Only child. Raised by strict but kind parents. Too clumsy to play basketball, even though everyone expected me to because of my height. Total nerd. Or geek. Take your pick of insult. I participated in all the science fairs and academic decathlons.”

“And did very well, I’m sure,” Sara Beth said.

He shrugged. Bragging wasn’t part of his makeup.

“I wanted to get away from home after high school graduation, so I went to Stanford. I met Chance there. We were opposites in most ways, but both of us were determined to make a difference. We teamed up at the Breyer Medical Center in San Francisco and made some progress, but we didn’t have the freedom to work in the way we needed. When Paul Armstrong extended the offer to come here, we said yes.” Immediately. No hesitation at all. “How about you?”

“I’m also an only child, and my mother was strict but kind, but I was a jock. Played soccer from age five through high school and loved it. I didn’t have any interest in leaving home, which is why I went to BC, and because of the institute’s scholarship. I’d been working there since I was sixteen, starting as a part-time file clerk. I’ve never worked anywhere else.”

“So you work there because you feel obligated?”

She didn’t say anything for a while, then, “In some respects that’s true, but I believe in what they do, and it’s a comfortable place for me. Lisa and I have been best friends all our lives, and so I spent a lot of time at the Armstrong home. I know her sister and brothers. Her father was always very kind to me, and my mother loved working for him. In fact, she was his first employee, was even kind of a girl Friday as well as his nurse until they got so big they needed more help.”

She sat up straighter and looked around as he turned onto his parents’ street. “Um, where are we?”

“Mount Vernon Square.”

“As in, Beacon Hill?” she asked, sounding slightly short of horrified.

“Yes.”

“I see,” she said tightly. “And where do you live?”

“Back Bay.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then glanced at her dress. “Are you sure I’m dressed up enough?”

“You look fine.” He almost said beautiful, which was the truth, but caught himself in time figuring she wouldn’t believe him.

She went silent. He continued to talk as if nothing had changed, offering more family information, asking more questions of her, getting subdued answers. But when they arrived, he felt prepared to answer the basic questions his parents might put forward.

Ted let himself and Sara Beth into the 150-year-old Victorian house where he’d grown up. Inside, he pressed a hand to the small of her back and urged her toward the sitting room, where he could hear voices. He was appreciating the curve of her spine when he felt her stiffen a little. “They don’t eat guests for dinner,” he said close to her ear.

She laughed quietly, shakily.

“They’ve found that guests make for a better dessert,” he added just as they walked through the open door.

Conversation stopped. His gaze swept the room. His mother and father were side by side on a settee.

But they were not alone.

Chapter Three

Sara Beth wanted to jab Ted in the ribs. Hard. Obviously he hadn’t warned his parents he was bringing her, because they quickly glanced at a woman about Ted’s age seated in a high-back chair, wearing a Valentine-red, body-hugging dress. She was blond, curvy and regal-looking, the silver spoon in her mouth invisible but obvious in her demeanor.

“Darling,” his mother said as his father stood and came toward Ted and Sara Beth. “You brought a guest. How lovely.”

Sara Beth gave her credit. She sounded genuinely pleased.

Ted shook hands with his father. “I thought I’d surprise you. This is Sara Beth O’Connell. Sara Beth, these are my parents, Brant and Penny Bonner, and a family friend, Tricia Trahearn.”

Sara Beth caught a cool, speculative look from Tricia as they shook hands.

“It’s been a long time, Tricia. How are you?” Ted asked, clasping her hand for a moment too long, in Sara Beth’s opinion. Or was she doing the holding?

“I’m well, thank you. You’re looking wonderful.”

“I can’t complain.” He let go, then bent to kiss his mother’s cheek. “Happy anniversary.”

Shock surged through Sara Beth, then annoyance. Oh, yeah, she was going to get him for this. It was bad enough she seemed like a party crasher, but he also hadn’t bothered to tell her it was his parents’ anniversary.

“Thank you, darling,” Penny Bonner said, lifting her glass to her husband. “Thirty-four years. Time does fly.”

The only available seating was a second settee, facing his parents. Ted led Sara Beth there. She thought she was doing an admirable job of keeping her expression neutral, while an internal volcano threatened to spew. She’d accepted his invitation because she’d wanted an adventure, to recapture that piece of herself. Instead she felt like an intruder.

Which was Dr. Ted Bonner’s fault, big-time.

Hadn’t her mother warned her forever about doctors, particularly about doctors, love and romance? Yes, yes, yes. Forever. From as far back as Sara Beth’s memory reached. Doctors lived in a world of their own, her mother had said. It was one of the reasons Sara Beth had kept away from Ted, since she’d been dazzled by an instant attraction to him. Nothing serious could ever happen between them.

“Glenfiddich on the rocks for you, I imagine, son?” his father said, then looked at Sara Beth. “What would you like?”

To dump a whole bottle of that pricey whiskey over your son’s head. “White wine would be wonderful, thank you.”

Brant moved to a bar cart, then returned with their drinks. No one spoke. The awkwardness grew by the second. Sara Beth didn’t hazard a glance toward the sexy Tricia Trahearn, but felt the woman’s interest. Or maybe she’d zeroed in on Ted. Either way, she didn’t look anywhere but in their direction.

Sara Beth also wondered how irritated his mother was. Not only would she have to add another place at the table, there would be an odd number instead of even.

Ted’s mother ended the silence. “Tricia is visiting her parents for a month,” Penny said.

Penny was short for Penelope, Sara Beth recalled from Ted’s conversation in the car. His parents were old Boston. Very old Boston, as in James-Bonner-arrived-in-America-on-the-ship-Truelove-in-1623 old Boston. Penelope and Brantley were family names from a long and duly documented genealogy through the centuries. Ted was officially Theodore, so named after ancestors from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. “It could’ve been worse,” he’d told her as he’d parked the car. “Several were named Percival.”

“How are your parents?” Ted asked Tricia, swirling his drink then taking a sip.

“Disappointed in me, as always.”

“Why’s that?”

She recrossed her legs and bounced her foot. “I haven’t married and procreated yet.” She offered a small toast. “I’m sure you’ve heard the refrain.”

Sara Beth didn’t appreciate Tricia’s lack of subtlety, nor the way she seemed so familiar with Ted.

Ted smiled, returning the gesture with his glass. “Tricia is a judge,” he said to Sara Beth. “Youngest on the bench at the moment.”

Of course she is. Probably everyone he knew held positions of power and influence. Sara Beth was proud of where she came from and what she’d accomplished, but this was a whole new world to her.

“Appointed judge. Not here, but in Vermont,” Tricia said. “We’ll see what happens come election time.”

“It’ll be a landslide,” Penny said with assurance. “And for the record, we don’t pester Ted about marrying and procreating, as you so bluntly put it, do we, darling?”

“I suppose one would have to define the word pester, Mother,” Ted responded, but with a smile. His father laughed.

“So, where did you and Sara Beth meet?” Penny asked.

“She’s the head nurse at the Armstrong Fertility Institute.”

“You work together?”

“Not together, exactly. I’m research. She’s medicine,” Ted said.

Sara Beth was fine with the fact he was fudging the truth a little. They weren’t a couple, after all, and they wouldn’t officially be working together until tomorrow morning.

“Do you help deliver babies?” Tricia asked.

“We don’t do deliveries at the institute. We use the hospital next door. A lot of specialized staff and equipment is necessary, since we often have multiple births. I do, however, attend some of the births. Some of our patients find it comforting to have a familiar face present,” Sara Beth explained.

“You enjoy your work?” Penny asked.

“I—Yes, I do. I’ve known since I was a child that it was what I wanted. I’m sure the decision was influenced by my mother, who was head nurse at the institute since Dr. Armstrong started it. She retired recently.”

“And your father?” Penny asked.

Sara Beth wondered if Ted knew her background. In the car she’d only mentioned her mother, and he hadn’t questioned her about her father. “My father has never been part of my life.” But maybe he will be. Maybe I’ll find him, after all. The vault could hold the answers.…

She realized how quiet the room had gotten. No one knew what to say. “My mother and I are very close, though. How did you two meet?” she asked, diverting the conversation to his parents.

Brant laid his hand over Penny’s. Love and affection radiated from her face, and it made Sara Beth hunger for someone to look at her that way. She’d been in a position to observe a lot of couples through the years, couples who were usually under a lot of stress, either trying to get pregnant or waiting out a complicated pregnancy, so they didn’t always glow. Still, it was wonderful to see a husband and wife so obviously in love after so many years.

“Our mothers were in Junior League together,” Penny said. “Brant and I hated each other on sight.”

“We were four years old,” Brant said. “She was annoying.”

“And he annoyed.”

“When did it change?” Sara Beth asked.

“On my sixteenth birthday,” Penny said. “His parents made him come to my party.”

“I did my duty and asked her to dance, a fast dance where we wouldn’t touch, but the song ended right away and a slow one started. I felt stuck.”

“That was all it took,” Penny said, her smile warm as their gazes met. “The moment we touched—”

“Pow.” He stroked her hair. “I stole a kiss later, and that was it for me.”

“Same here.”

Sara Beth glanced at Ted. He was looking into the distance, probably devising some chemical formula in his head—or maybe planning when he would see Tricia again. Or maybe he’d just heard the story too many times for it to have impact. To Sara Beth it was incredibly romantic.

By the time the party moved into the dining room, another place setting had been added. They were served an incredible meal by a small, wiry, white-haired man named Louis, who looked to be in his eighties and who winked at Sara Beth when she’d momentarily been overwhelmed by the situation. She relaxed then and enjoyed the seared salmon with ginger-lime sauce, roasted asparagus and brown rice with scallions. Dessert was carrot cake, an anniversary tradition because it had been Brant and Penny’s groom’s cake.

Conversation happened around her. Questions asked and answered, memories shared. “Remember when?” became Tricia’s catchphrase, grating in Sara Beth’s ears after the third time. And since Sara Beth didn’t know enough about Ted, nor did she have a history with him, she couldn’t counter anything Tricia said with a memory of her own. Ted didn’t seem to notice, just nodded and kept eating.

“Remember the time we sailed to Providence?” Tricia asked Ted as Louis cleared the dessert plates. “We capsized,” she said to Sara Beth. “He saved my life. My hero.”

“You know, I’ve think we’ve bored Sara Beth with history for long enough,” Ted said. He set his hand on the back of Sara Beth’s chair, gave her what seemed like a tender look, almost bringing tears to her eyes, even though she knew he was only putting on a show for his parents.

She stopped being mad at him.

“We should be going,” he said.

“Me, too,” Tricia said, patting her lips with her napkin.

Their farewells were brief. “I’m sorry you didn’t know ahead of time that I was coming,” Sara Beth said to Ted’s parents.

“Please don’t concern yourself,” Penny said. “We were thrilled he brought you. Truly, Sara Beth, your presence was a lovely gift.”

Ted and Sara Beth left the house with Tricia, after Ted helped the woman into her coat. Sara Beth had figured out they must have dated in high school, and had seen each other at some point since, but none of Tricia’s remember-whens seemed recent.

“Maybe if we both get after him,” Tricia said, looking over her shoulder at Sara Beth, “Ted will finally furnish his loft. Penny says it reminds her of a college student. Do you agree?”

Sara Beth debated whether to admit she hadn’t seen his place. “He works a lot.” She felt Ted’s hand cup her shoulder and squeeze.

“I heard. Penny wanted me to volunteer to take on the job of decorating for him. I have a knack for that sort of thing.”

“I’ll get around to it,” Ted said.

“You’ve apparently been saying that for months.”

“And I’ve meant it for months. When things lighten up at work, I’ll take care of it.”

“I already promised to help him,” Sara Beth said, fed up with how the woman kept pushing.

To his credit, Ted didn’t blink an eye at the lie. He just lowered his arm to Sara Beth’s waist. His hand felt hot through her coat, which was an impossibility, she knew. Still …

“Really?” Tricia’s brows arched. She looked Sara Beth over again, as if examining her for some kind of decorator gene—and coming up empty. “Why didn’t you just say so, Ted?”

“He’s a man,” Sara Beth explained. “He doesn’t like to admit he can’t do something, you know?” She felt him laugh beside her and felt warm despite the cold night.

“Well, here we are,” Tricia said, stopping next to a silver BMW. “Maybe we could have lunch?” she asked Ted. “Catch up. For old time’s sake. Just friends, you realize,” she said to Sara Beth.

For old time’s sake? Right. For now. Her interest in Ted was as obvious as the cut of her neckline—low and open for invitation.

“I don’t have much free time,” Ted said, squeezing Sara Beth’s waist a little tighter.

She leaned into him and smiled at Tricia.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Tricia said. “Mother and Father would love to see you, too.”

“We’ll see.”

“Ted and I met when we were children, too,” she said to Sara Beth. “Just like his parents.”

“Without the same results,” Sara Beth said, fed up.

“Good night, Tricia,” Ted said in a tone meant to shut down the conversation.

He maneuvered Sara Beth past her and headed for his car, his arm still around her waist, even though he no longer needed to put on a show. He’d touched her earlier, twice. First, he’d accidentally touched her breast, catching her off guard—and himself, she could tell. Then later, at his parents’ house, he’d rested his hand lightly against her lower back. It had startled her, because it was deliberate. But looking back now, maybe that wasn’t all. Maybe it was the touch itself, which had revved her up.

“Thanks for the save,” Ted said as they drove off a minute later. “And for realizing I needed saving.”

“You were looking a little desperate.” She smiled. “I’m kidding. What is your home like?”

“It’s the top floor of a converted warehouse with a rooftop garden. That I never use.”

She sighed. “If I had a garden, I’d rarely be indoors.”

“There’s no garden in the backyard of your house?”

“There is, but I’m just the renter. It’s owned by a horticulture researcher at Harvard. I’m not allowed to touch his garden. Everything’s an experiment.”

“How long have you lived there?”

“Three years.”

“I was envying your sofa earlier. Reminded me I should order one myself.”

“So your loft does looks like a college student’s?”

“It’s … minimalist.”

She smiled at that.

“I don’t even know what’s kept me from getting it decorated. I could order furniture online, so it’s not like I’d have to spend time going from store to store. I just haven’t done it. Chance gets after me, too.”

She hesitated a long time before she said, “I take it you don’t entertain much.” How personal was she allowed to get?

“I never entertain. I should be reciprocating invitations. My mother drilled that particular etiquette into my head. Until I furnish the place, I can’t.”

“What’s your style?”

“It would still be minimalist, but also comfortable. I have art—paintings and other pieces that I’ve collected or been given. They’re piled in a corner. I suppose it makes sense to decorate around them.” He pulled up in front of her house. “Do you see parking anywhere?”

“You don’t need to bother.” She gathered her coat around her and opened the door. “I’ll be fine.”

He looked at her directly. “You’ve met my mother.”

She laughed. “Well, she’s not here to see your breach of etiquette. Really, Ted, you could end up driving around for fifteen minutes. I don’t need to be walked to the door.” This wasn’t a real date, anyway, she reminded herself.

“Thank you for going with me tonight. You saved my hide.” He reached over and pressed her shoulder, his fingertips grazing her neck.

Her breath caught. The air around her crackled. Neither of them moved. She wanted to kiss him, saw his gaze drop to her mouth and linger, his fingers twitching at the same time, then digging in a little. Move, she ordered herself. Get out. Don’t look back.

She didn’t budge. “So. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow,” she said.

He pulled away his hand slowly, cold replacing the heat fast—too fast. She shivered.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said, smiling.

She climbed out of the car, leaning back in for just a moment. “Good night.”

“I’ll wait until you’re inside.”

She nodded, was aware of his gaze on her as she crossed between two parked cars, walked up the sidewalk, then climbed the front stairs. Should she turn around and wave? Of course. He was being a gentleman. She waved, although she couldn’t see if he waved back.

When she got inside she leaned against the door, her legs wobbly. What had just happened? Was she caught up in Penny and Brant’s story of love at first touch? She wanted the same fairy tale. The same happy ending. She’d wanted that for a long time.

But with Ted? A man who turned her on just looking at him? A man she worked with? A doctor?

She climbed the stairs, went into her dark, quiet apartment, then didn’t bother turning on the lights, moonlight casting just enough illumination. She slipped off her shoes, hung up her coat and sat on her sofa, curling her legs under her. Her body felt alive. Needy. Aroused.

How could she work with someone whose smallest touch left her breathless?

Her phone rang. She picked it up from the coffee table, her hello sounding shaky, even to herself.

“It’s Ted.”

She gripped the receiver with both hands. Her heart began to pound, loud and fast. “Oh, hi.”

“Listen, I—”

What? You felt it, too? You want me, too?

“Sorry. A car just cut me off. Um, I left some papers on your kitchen counter. Would you bring them with you tomorrow?”

She closed her eyes, more disappointed than she should let herself be. “Of course.”

“Thanks. See you.”

“Bye.”

She’d seen him around the building for months and been able to control it. So why this reaction today? And then there was the fact he hadn’t seemed to notice her at all until today. Or had he studiously been avoiding her, as she had been avoiding him?

All she knew for sure was that she needed to be very, very careful from here on. First and foremost, she wanted to get into the vault.

And she couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her attraction to Ted get in her way.

Chapter Four

In the lab early the next morning, Ted made room for Chance Demetrios to study his computer screen. Ted had arrived well before dawn, needing to get started on his light bulb moment of the previous evening.

“You came up with this last night?” Chance asked.

“Yeah. A purely random thought.”

“How did we miss it before?”

“Because it’s been a process. We had to go through the previous steps to get to this point.”

“I think you’re onto something, Ted.” Chance stepped back. “This could be the breakthrough.”

“Maybe.”

They’d worked together for so many years that they didn’t need to say a lot, could interpret each other’s expressions. Chance grinned; Ted just nodded, their reactions as opposite as everything else about them. Although they were about the same height, and had similar dark eyes and hair, Chance was powerfully built and social, and the black sheep of his dominant and wealthy family, whereas Ted rarely made waves. Opposite in many ways, but similar where it counted.

Because what they had in common was a need to find a viable treatment for male infertility, although neither had told the other why. And both were stubborn and independent, which made them a good team, each other’s checks and balances.

“Has Derek Armstrong weighed in on having Sara Beth working with us?” Chance asked.

“He hasn’t stopped by today. Maybe he doesn’t know yet.” Ted figured Derek would have an opinion, since he’d had an opinion on everything else that Ted and Chance were doing as they tried to protect the institute’s name.

“Did you spend the night here again?” Chance asked, booting up his own computer.

“No.” But that reminded Ted that he needed to order a bed frame, his box spring and mattress being too low to the ground for comfort getting in and out of bed. “I went to my parents’ house for dinner. It was their anniversary. How about you? You sounded hopeful about your date on the phone yesterday.”

“Here’s a piece of advice, my friend. Never have a first date on Valentine’s Day.”

With a few keystrokes, Ted forwarded the new hypothesis to Chance’s computer. “Okay. Why not?”

“Expectations are too high.” Chance tapped a couple keys, then his screen matched Ted’s.

“For what? Roses? Candy? Sex?”

“All three.”

“Your expectations or hers?”

Chance laughed. “In this case, hers.”

“And you turned her down?” Ted had observed Chance in action for years. He flirted in the same unconscious way that most people breathed. “Got a fever or something?”

“Or something.”

Ted studied Chance, but didn’t continue the conversation. They worked side by side, their shorthand of familiarity being enough to convey their thoughts. Suddenly, Ted smelled sweet lemons and discovered Sara Beth standing beside him, wearing tie-dyed scrubs in blues and greens.

Technically she’d been his Valentine’s Day date, but without roses, candy or sex. Without any expectations at all. She’d been a good sport about it, too.

“Good morning, Doctors,” she said, unobtrusively setting down an envelope with what he assumed were his papers from the night before.

He hadn’t needed them—he had a near photographic memory—but he’d gotten worried when her lights hadn’t come on in her apartment after he’d dropped her off. The only reasonable way he could make sure everything was okay was to call her, using the excuse of bringing his notes to work.

“Good morning, Sara Beth,” Chance said. “Thanks for agreeing to work with us.”

“It’s my pleasure. I know how anxious you are to have the situation cleared up.”

Ted didn’t take his eyes off his monitor, but he said good morning.

“Your first appointment just arrived, Dr. Demetrios,” Sara Beth said.

He saved his work and shut down the computer. “Did you have a nice Valentine’s Day?”

Ted heard her hesitation and wondered if Chance did.

“Yes, I did, thank you. And you?”

“She didn’t have a sense of humor.”

“Ah. Too bad. That’s a requirement of yours, I’m sure.”

Ted looked at her in time to see her eyes sparkling.

Chance nodded solemnly. “Number one priority. That, and being a redhead.”

“Uh-huh.”

He raised a hand. “Honest.”

She tapped her watch.

“I’m going, I’m going.” He headed to the door. “See you later.”

The obvious ease of their relationship irritated Ted. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Sara Beth then followed Chance out the door, stopping him.

“Sara Beth is going to be working with us every day. You need to treat her more professionally.”

Chance’s brows lifted. “I’ve worked closely with her for months, Ted. We joke around. You’ve heard of the concept, right?”

“Joking is fine. But not flirting.” He was making an ass of himself, and he knew it, yet couldn’t stop it. “You got yourself in trouble for that before, remember?”

A deep frown settled on Chance’s face. He leaned closer to Ted, keeping his voice low. “How could I forget? But I wasn’t guilty then, and I’m not guilty now. So lay off.” He walked away.

It wasn’t the first argument they’d had, and undoubtedly wouldn’t be the last, but their disagreements were usually about intellectual or scientific issues, which eventually were proved or disproved. Plus, they enjoyed challenging each other.

This was different. They never intruded on each other’s personal lives. Never had any reason to.

Ted shoved his hands through his hair, taking a few seconds to vanquish the irrational thoughts, then determine the reason for them.

Simple. He was jealous of how easy it was for Chance to flirt and tease.

Ted could learn, though. Tricia’s presence last night had reminded him how far he’d come. In high school they’d both been labeled nerds. She’d blossomed into a beautiful, poised woman to match the intelligence that had been there all along. And he looked a little more put together now, which got him dates without him trying much. Not that he held any woman’s interest for very long—

“I’m on the clock here,” Sara Beth said from the open doorway, apparently having waited as long as she could while he self-analyzed.

“Sorry.” He returned to the lab, and went directly to a corner desk. “I had boxes brought up from the vault.” He pulled up a page on the computer screen. “All you need to do is enter the information from the files into this spreadsheet.”

She stared at the image. He was distracted by her lemon scent again, realized it was her hair that smelled so good.

“This seems like a job that one of the data clerks could do,” she said, hesitance in her voice.

“So it may seem, but it’s much more than just entering data. Plus, we want to involve as few people as possible. You need to read the files, to understand the information that’s there, not just statistics. We’re looking for reasons why there have been so many more multiple births in the past few years than in previous ones. The institute’s protocols are exact. We don’t allow more than three implantations, yet we’ve had more twins and triplets born than makes scientific sense.”

She looked up at him. He’d gotten so close, he could feel her body heat, but he didn’t move away from it. Neither did she.

“And because we had a big turnover of personnel after Dr. Armstrong retired, the people involved are gone and you’re left holding the bag?” she asked.

“Not exactly, since we haven’t been here long enough to blame, but Chance and I came here because of the institute’s great reputation and what seemed to be unlimited funding. A scandal, which this is brewing to be, could cause a huge loss of funding, which could mean the death of our research.” He almost brushed back a wisp of Sara Beth’s hair that had escaped her braid.

“Okay. What am I looking for?”

He pointed out the items she should review, flagging anything questionable. “If you come across something that doesn’t make sense or falls outside the category parameters, just ask. I’ll be working in the lab all day.”

She nodded. “When I’m done with these, should I go into the vault for more? I mean, how far back are we checking?”

He finally stepped away slightly. “I don’t know yet. We may end up entering everything, converting all of it into the new program, something that would’ve been done, except that Dr. Armstrong said it wasn’t necessary. Lisa and Paul want to bring the institute into the twenty-first century.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

Ted wondered about her mood. She’d gotten quiet and businesslike since Chance had left. “Thanks again for last night, Sara Beth. I think I’m off the hook with my parents for a while.”

“It wasn’t a hardship for me.” She fidgeted. “You and Tricia go way back, I guess.”

He adjusted his lab coat. “We dated in high school.” He remembered their first kiss, glasses bumping glasses. He hadn’t known where to put his hands, so he hadn’t made any attempt. They’d just sort of leaned toward each other and touched lips. They’d gotten a little better at it through trial and error, but it wasn’t until he’d dated an older woman as a sophomore in college that he’d learned what he’d been missing.

“You haven’t seen each other all these years?”

“Once, right before I graduated from Stanford.” They’d slept together. She’d come to town for the sole purpose of sleeping with him, she told him, as forthright as always. It had been physically satisfying but left him feeling hollow at the same time, as if they’d needed to do it in order to move on with their lives, to prove to each other how far they’d come. That she’d shown interest in him last night was both surprising and uncomfortable. “She could be elected president someday. Or at the very least, be a Supreme Court justice.”

“You can say you knew her when. Reporters will track you down to interview. You’ll have your high school yearbook photos splashed on the tabloids and across the Web.”

“My fondest wish,” he said dryly.

She laughed, a bubbly sound that infiltrated his body and danced inside him, making him feel … edgy. He remembered the firmness of her breast against his hand, the tempting curve of her lower back …

Tempting? There was no denying it. She tempted him, even with her hair in a tidy braid, her bright scrubs and practical shoes.

“Would you go shopping with me?” he asked.

“Pardon me?”

He liked the way her eyes widened when she was surprised, her lashes long and dark. “I thought I’d look at furniture this weekend. Would you turn your lie into a truth by helping me?”

A long pause ensued, then finally, “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you otherwise. Why? Do you think it isn’t?” He hadn’t thought it through. The idea had struck, and he’d asked.

“We work together.”

Ted was unprepared for the blow of a rejection. He rarely asked anyone for help doing anything, but he also couldn’t remember being turned down before, either. “If you don’t want to, just say so. It’s not like it’s a date.”

Her gaze drilled his. “I’m sure Tricia would be glad to have you change your mind and ask her. She seemed ready and able.”

“If I’d wanted to ask her, I would have. It could be fun, Sara Beth. An adventure,” he added, appealing to that side of her.

They stood staring at each other. He waited her out.

“Okay,” she said. “I need to see your loft first or I won’t be able to picture the furniture in your space. I’m not a pro, you understand.”

“You have good taste. Actually, anyone probably has better taste than me, but your apartment is comfortable. I want comfortable.”

“And a place you can invite people over.”

“Yes.”

“Even if you don’t really want to,” she added, her eyes dancing with laughter.

They barely knew each other, but she’d figured him out. And he’d asked her to help him with the furniture because he’d already relaxed with her. She was easy.…

No. That was a complete lie.

She was trouble.

Chapter Five

Sara Beth let herself into her mother’s house at six o’clock on Tuesday night. No scent of food greeted her, which meant they would be eating out. “I’m here!” she called, then shut the front door.

“Be out in a sec,” came Grace O’Connell’s reply from her bedroom at the back of the house.

In reverse of Sara Beth’s housing situation, Grace owned her two-story Victorian, lived downstairs and rented out the second story to a Harvard law professor. It was the house where Sara Beth grew up.

“Cute blouse,” Grace said. “You actually shopped.”

“Guilty.” Sara Beth hugged her mom, wondering as usual if Grace was ever going to age. Although sixty-two, she looked much younger, her hair long, straight and blond, her few wrinkles mostly laugh lines fanning from the corners of her crystal-blue eyes. She and Sara Beth could trade clothes, if they wanted, they were built so similarly.

Sara Beth adored her. She’d had a wonderful childhood, had never felt denied anything—except a father, or even a father figure. If her mother had dated, Sara Beth never knew about it.

“How come you didn’t call me to shop with you?” Grace asked, stepping back to look at her daughter more closely. “I would’ve been happy to go along.”

“I didn’t plan it. I found myself in front of the Gap yesterday. Everything was on sale. I still spent way too much.”

Grace cocked her head. “Who is he?”

It wouldn’t do any good to hold back. Her mother could spot a lie every time. “It’s not what you think.”

“Anytime a woman who hates to shop goes shopping, and buys more than she thinks she needs, there’s a man involved.”

“You buy new clothes all the time. I’ve never seen evidence of a man.”

“I like to shop.” She slipped into her coat and stuffed her wallet into a pocket. “Did you buy new lingerie?”

Sara Beth almost choked. “No, Mother. I did not.”

“You’re blushing. Hmm. That’s interesting. Tell me about him.”

“We’re just friends.”

Grace rolled her eyes, hooked her arm in Sara Beth’s and headed toward the door. “Which is the most pathetic lie in the lexicon of dating.”

“It’s the truth in this case. I did go to a family dinner with him last weekend, but he called it a rescue date. His parents get on him about still being single and I went as a decoy.” And ended up being aroused by his touch. Not exactly within the definition of “friend.”

Outside, Grace slid her key into the lock. “So, he used you? How charming.”

“I said yes because it suited my purposes, Mom, not his. I’ve gotten in a bad habit of staying home, especially now that Lisa practically lives at the institute. I decided to shake up my routine.” She smiled. “So, where are we going?”

“Don’t change the subject, young lady.”

“There’s no subject to change. Nothing’s going on.” They turned right at the end of the walkway. Sara Beth guessed they were going to Santini’s, a small family-style restaurant two blocks away.

“Are you going out with him again?”

Sara Beth managed not to sigh. “Not on a date. I’m going to help him shop for furniture for his place on Saturday.”

“Why?”

“Because he asked.” And because I want to.

“Why aren’t you telling me who he is, Sara Beth? If it’s no big deal—”

“It’s Dr. Bonner, okay? Ted Bonner.”

Grace’s brows arched. “The new research doctor?”

“Yes. I’m on a special assignment to help him and Dr. Demetrios, at Lisa’s request.”

“Somehow I doubt that includes tending to their personal needs.”

“Look, Mom. It’s a change of pace, something new to do.”

“And you bought new clothes.”

Sara Beth threw up her hands. “Because you’d been after me for months to do so. Now that I have, you’re making a federal case out of it.”

“Not about the clothes, sweetheart, and you know it.”

“I remember all your lessons, Mom. All of them. Don’t date doctors and especially don’t fall in love with them. I got it. I’ve heeded it. Is that a new hairstyle?” she asked lightly.

Her mother laughed. “All right. I’ll lay off. For now.”

“Forev—”

“It’s a little shorter,” Grace said, fluffing her hair. “And just a tad blonder.”

While her mother relayed the latest gossip from her hairstylist, Sara Beth debated whether to bring up the subject of her father … donor. She really didn’t want to resort to sneaking a look at her mother’s file, breaking rules, risking the chance of getting caught, but she’d waited long enough. And the opportunity to learn about her father might never come her way again.

But just then they arrived at Santini’s, and the moment passed, at least for now. It wasn’t a subject she could bring up in a public venue, especially if her mother got as angry as she had the other times Sara Beth had asked.

So they settled into noncontroversial topics for the rest of the evening, then on the walk home, Grace said casually, “I won’t be able to have dinner next Tuesday.”

“How come?”

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

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

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

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

“Would you like to come?”

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

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

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

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

“And margaritas.”

“That, too.”

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

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

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

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

“In what way?”

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

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

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

“I’m not seeing anything I like.”

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

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

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

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

“Not far from home. Why?”

“Can you see your house?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And locking it.”

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

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“You’re making fun of me.”

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

He laughed.

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

“That’s what friends are for.”

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

“That’s … nice?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But … would she?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mind.”

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

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

“Are you all right, Sara Beth?”

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

“Sara Beth?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Someone special?” Ted guessed.

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

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

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

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

“You can skip a day. It’s fine.”

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

“Whatever works out.”

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter Six

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted to touch Sara Beth.

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

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

All work and no play—Was he that dull?

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

“So are you.”

“You say that as if it surprises you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you even own a pair of jeans?”

“Of course I do. Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Along with what else?” Sara Beth asked.

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

“Are you claustrophobic?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’d you go?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

“No tickets. No accidents.”

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

“Ready?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you think of Derek Armstrong?” Ted asked when they were in the elevator.

“Because Lisa is my best friend, I’ve known him all my life, but we haven’t spent time together in a very long time—he’s so many years older than me. Why?”

They stepped out of the elevator and headed to the car a few feet away. “I’m just trying to get a handle on him. He drops in now and then, asks a few questions. But I report to Paul as chief of staff.”

Ted unlocked the passenger door and opened it for her.

She paused before getting in. “Well, Derek and Paul are twins, but that’s where the resemblance ends. I get the impression you don’t trust Derek.”

How much could he say? Derek seemed much more interested in how the research for the treatment was going than the investigation of what could cause the institute a lot of damage. It should’ve been the opposite at this point.

“I don’t know him,” Ted answered carefully.

“I watched you when Derek stopped by the other day. Your spine stiffened. You never took your eyes off him. And he didn’t ask questions, he interrogated.”

So, he hadn’t been wrong about that. He wasn’t just being defensive. Sara Beth saw it, too. “You didn’t say anything.”

“It wasn’t my place.”

“I value your opinions, Sara Beth.”

“You and I have an unusual relationship,” she said after he’d started the engine. “You’re my boss for part of the day, my coworker most of the day and I guess we’re also friends.”

She’d summed it up perfectly. And she was right, it was unusual but also complicated. “You nailed it.”

“Which means it’s just as confusing to you?”

“I’m not losing sleep over it.”

She laughed. “Okay, then.” She pulled a small stack of papers from her seemingly bottomless purse. “I’ve got a list of furniture stores I think might be suitable.”

“How long did you spend online doing that research?”

She shrugged. “I had fun. I hope your mother likes the results.”

“It only matters what I think.”

“I know, but …”

“No buts, Sara Beth. It’s a fact.”

“And facts matter most to you.”

Yes, most of the time that was true. He liked facts. Good, solid, unchangeable facts made the world go around—his world, anyway.

But he was coming to like the mystery that was Sara Beth O’Connell, too, the woman he could already call a friend, but who also made him want.

Friends with benefits, perhaps?

Now, that was an idea worth getting lost in.

Chapter Seven

Sara Beth had occasionally wondered what it would be like to have a lot of money. Not that she felt she lacked anything, but how having a lot of money could affect someone’s life.

Now she knew. Or to a degree, anyway.

Having money meant being allowed to buy floor models and have them delivered the same day instead of waiting weeks or months. It meant the owner waited on you personally. It also meant having a credit card with a large enough balance to charge just about anything, including a loft’s worth of furniture.

Sara Beth had bought a piece at a time for her apartment over a couple of years, not wanting to get into debt, and often picking up secondhand pieces she would refinish or repurpose in labor-intensive, satisfying projects.

“Have you ever painted a room?” she asked Ted as they waited in the owner’s office at Caro Miro’s Design Studio, a high-end, contemporary furniture store—the sixth store they’d visited, and the most successful shopping they’d done. Caro was off arranging the delivery of a sofa, two side chairs, a dining room table and chairs, a sleek dresser to fit in his walk-in closet and a king-size bed frame and headboard. There was more to buy—tables, lamps, more chairs, a bedspread—but not today.

Ted stopped thumbing through a furniture catalog to look at Sara Beth, her out-of-the-blue question getting his full attention. “Painted a room? No. Why?”

“Just curious.”

“Have you?”

“Lots. I don’t like to paint walls or ceilings, but I don’t mind doing the trim. You probably wouldn’t even need a ladder.” She sighed. Being tall had its advantages. “I’m thinking you should repaint the bedroom part of your loft a deep, warm brown. Are you up to it?”

“I believe in letting the experts do the jobs they’ve trained for.”

She grinned. “I’ll bet your father said that to you while you were growing up.”

He cocked his head thoughtfully. “It does sound like him.”

“So, you’ll give it a shot?”

“Would you ask a painter to dissect a frog?”

She laughed. “When’s the last time you dissected a frog?”

“In high school biology class.” His eyes lit with humor. “If you think the walls should be painted, I’ll have it done. As long as you choose the color.”

“What do I get in return? I mean, I’m suffering for my generosity already.”

“In what way?”

“My feet hurt. My back aches. And I’m hungry!” Before he got all serious or feeling guilty on her, she added, “But today was a whole lot of fun. I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”

“We didn’t always agree.”

“Isn’t that great?”

“You’re strange.” He softened the statement with a crooked smile.

She felt highly complimented. All her life, she’d been the least strange person ever. People could count on her to be unbiased, easygoing, and noncombative. If Ted saw her as something more lively—like strange—she was glad. She really was having an adventure. “Thank you.”

He looked doubtful but said nothing because the owner/designer returned to the office.

“You’re all set,” Caro Miro said. She was a tall woman in her late thirties, wearing a vibrant blue outfit that hugged well-toned curves. Her catlike eyes zeroed in on Ted. “You’ll have delivery by six o’clock.”

“I appreciate it.”

Sara Beth watched the interaction between the two. She’d come to realize that Ted had no idea how attractive he was. He never noticed when women stared, or flirted, which this one was doing, and he was missing all the signals.

“I thought I’d come with the delivery people to see your loft,” Caro said, handing a credit card receipt to him to sign. “Then I would be able to make recommendations for the other pieces you’re looking for.”

Ted looked at Sara Beth then. “That won’t be necessary. We seem to make a good team. But I do appreciate all the time you gave us today, and the quick delivery.”

Sara Beth’s heart did a little leap first, then she tried hard not to smirk at the much-sexier woman. Caro might be a few years older than Ted, but Sara Beth didn’t think that would’ve stopped him from responding to her obvious flirtation if he’d been interested.

Which he wasn’t—because he and Sara Beth made a good team. It wasn’t her imagination or wishful thinking. He’d said so.

He started to sign, then stopped. “There’s an error.”

Caro used the opportunity to bend close to him. “Where?”

“You undercharged me by six dollars.”

She pressed a hand to her chest and smiled. “Oh, for goodness’ sake. It’s not worth running it again. Consider it a thank-you.”

Ted signed the slip, pulled out his wallet, drew out six dollars and handed it to her as he stood. “There.”

Caro looked surprised. Sara Beth wasn’t the least bit.

“Do you like Thai food?” he asked Sara Beth as they left the shop.

“Love it.”

He pushed a speed-dial button on his cell phone and called in an order, requesting several dishes. She wondered how often he ordered in.

“At least I can take care of your hunger problem,” he said, ending the call.

“Thanks.” Darn. No back rub or foot massage.

When they reached the loft, Sara Beth pulled her “Ted” folder from her purse and set it on his breakfast bar as he headed to his bedroom to check his answering machine. She would’ve gladly flopped onto a sofa, if he’d had one.

“If you need to put your feet up,” he called from the bedroom area, “feel free to use my bed.”

Sara Beth froze in place, tempted. Too tempted. “I’m okay, thanks,” she called back before she changed her mind. “Do you have any soda?”

“Maybe. Check out the refrigerator. Make yourself at home.”

His refrigerator held several containers of take-out cartons and boxes, some orange juice, assorted condiments, three Cokes and two dozen eggs. “You’ve got Cokes. Do you want one?” she called.

“Sure,” he said from right behind her.

She jumped. He’d come up while she’d been bent over staring at the contents. He set his hands on her waist and held her so that she wouldn’t crash into him, but in doing so, her rear pressed against his pelvis.

She laughed as she stepped away, the sound shaky, then passed him a can.

“Let’s sit down,” he said. “The delivery people won’t be here for a while.” He guided her toward the canvas camp chair with built-in cup holders by the front window, made her sit there, then he sat on the floor, setting his can on the upturned cardboard box. He reached for her feet.

“What are you doing?” she asked, although pretty sure what his answer would be.

“Taking care of your second problem.”

She was glad she’d decided to wear cute socks, the ones with the dancing polar bears, but she couldn’t relax. What if he intended to massage her back, too? She would have to turn him down. She didn’t want to, but she definitely had to.

Oh, but his hands felt good, his fingers strong, his thumbs finding the sore spots and releasing them with pressure. At work she was on her feet all day, but she always wore comfortable, cushioned shoes, instead of hard-soled ankle boots.

Sara Beth shut her eyes and swallowed the groans that threatened to escape her throat. Pretend he’s a doctor performing a treatment.…

Nope. That didn’t work. He wasn’t her doctor.

She opened her eyes a tiny bit, saw a peaceful expression on his face, as if he was enjoying himself, too. She wanted to run her hands through his long, wavy, soft-looking hair, then when he looked up at her, kiss him.…

Dr. Ted Bonner fascinated her. When he set his mind to do something, he did it all the way, giving his complete attention. In bed, would he—

A buzzer rang, disrupting her escalating fantasy.

“Too soon for the food. Must be the furniture delivery. They’re early,” he said, hesitating for a moment, then standing and moving to look at a closed-circuit screen. He stepped into the elevator. “I’m sorry to cut the foot rub short.”

Me, too. More than you’ll ever know. She grabbed her soda, trying to look casual. Which worked until Caro came out of the elevator with Ted, talking animatedly, flirting outrageously. The woman didn’t even have the sense to dial down the flirt volume when she saw Sara Beth.

“I was just explaining to Ted,” she said, as he sent the elevator back down, “that he might not be happy with the rug you chose for the living area, so I brought a few more to look at, just in case.”

“How thoughtful,” Sara Beth said, keeping the sarcasm to a minimum.

“What a great space,” Caro exclaimed. “You’re going to need a lot more furniture, though, don’t you think?”

“For now I’m going to live with what I got today,” Ted said, “then decide what else I need.”

Sara Beth was trying to get a handle on whether Caro was more interested in making sales or making Ted.

“I think that’s a great idea.” Caro moved to the window. “You have a fabulous view.”

Ted winked at Sara Beth. She decided he’d figured out Caro just fine, was not as oblivious as he seemed.

When the elevator door opened, two burly men emerged then unloaded six large area rugs. The next hour was spent laying out each rug, rearranging the furniture each time. Their Thai food was delivered, Sara Beth’s stomach growling as it sat on the counter, calling her name.

Finally they settled on the rug they’d originally chosen, the furniture was put in place, and his bed set up. Caro lingered, offering advice on what else he should consider. Ted committed to nothing, and finally got her out the door.

“I don’t suppose you have place mats,” Sara Beth said as she began heating up the food in the microwave.

He gave her a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding look.

“Paper towels?”

“I’ll get them. You must be starving.”

“I could eat the paper towels, I think.”

He laughed. “She’s quite a pitch woman, isn’t she?”

Sara Beth shrugged.

“I know you have an opinion,” he said.

“She’s good at her job.”

“Not really.” He grabbed two plates and some silverware and set everything on the new dining room table.

“You bought a whole lot of stuff from her.”

“I would’ve bought more if she hadn’t been so pushy. Which means,” he added, catching Sara Beth’s gaze, “more shopping at different places to finish up.”

So, he wasn’t a pushover, wasn’t just making choices to get the decorating over with. Good. “I’m available next Saturday.”

“Thanks.” He laid a hand over hers as she set a carton on the dining room table. “For today. For helping at the institute. For bringing a little fun into my life.”

She swallowed. “Ditto.”

“Ditto,” he repeated, grinning, shaking his head. “Okay. You’re welcome.”

By the time they were done eating, hung a few pieces of art and made a list of everything else they thought he might need to buy, Sara Beth almost fell asleep standing up next to his bed, which they’d just made up. It was finally off the floor.

“So, you’re not hungry anymore, I imagine,” he said.

“Definitely not.”

“And your feet feel okay?”

She wriggled her toes. “Fine.”

“Which leaves your aching back.”

Panic had her pulse thrumming in a hurry. “I’m rested. I feel good.”

“You just spent a couple of hours climbing up and down ladders, and holding large pieces of art over your head.” His smile was a slow burn, as if he knew how attracted she was—and how scared to give in to it.

Unless she was truly under the power of wishful thinking, he’d been testing the waters with her all day, making flattering comments, giving her the eye, smiling in that way that showed interest beyond coworker or friend, no matter what they labeled their relationship.

She waited for him to make it clear what he was after, but he didn’t say or do anything. She decided to retreat, to think the situation over. “I should get home,” she said, sidling around him to return to the living room.

“So soon?”

Sara Beth laughed. They’d spent twelve hours together.

She stuffed her notebook in her purse. He swiped his keys from the counter, then stopped and looked around at the partially furnished living/dining room. “Already a big improvement,” he said, eyeing the dark brown leather sofa and side chairs, the modern dining table and sleek nickel-and-leather chairs, and the red-and-brown area rug.

She nodded. “I have to admit I was feeling pretty cocky when you decided you liked the rug we picked out at the store best, instead of any of the others that Caro brought.”

“When I make up my mind, I rarely change it.”

“Even about decorating your place, apparently, which was way out of your comfort zone.”

“I had great help.” He tossed his keys lightly. “I may not have vision, but I know what I like.”

“What do you suppose your parents will think?”

“It will only matter that it’s done. And that my grandmother Holly’s portrait of my mom as a little girl is up in a prominent place.”

They took the elevator down and got in the car. “Want to stop someplace for dessert?” he asked, putting the car in gear.

“I couldn’t eat another bite.”

They drove in silence. She wished she knew if he was thinking about his new decor, her or his work. Most likely, work.

“Look at that,” he said as they neared her house. “Parking right out front.” He parallel parked, shut the engine off and opened his door.

By the time she got out, he was there, extending a hand, which she took reluctantly. “You don’t have to walk me to my door. It’s not like this was a date.”

“Humor me.” He let go of her hand.

They moved up the short walkway, climbed the stairs. She put her key in the door then turned to him. “I’ll see you Monday morning.”

He reached around her, turned the key and opened the door, then gestured for her to precede him up the second set of stairs to her apartment. She wouldn’t invite him in. She absolutely would not, even though she had cookies and cocoa, the perfect ending to the day. She made herself stand in the open doorway.

“Good night, Ted.”

She thought he was going to kiss her, but he wrapped his arms around her in an all-encompassing hug. She felt enveloped … and safe. His body felt familiar, when it shouldn’t. She curved her arms up his back, pulling herself closer, feeling him from sturdy chest to hard thighs. He wrapped one arm around her midback, one a little lower, his fingertips resting on the upper curve of her rear. Her nipples hardened, wanting his touch, wishing he would pull her even closer. She barely resisted pressing her lips to his neck.

She was aware of everything about him—his strength, his heat, the promise of satisfaction for the building need inside her—but also that they worked together. That he was a doctor. That he came from old Boston money, had a place in a level of society she didn’t know.

That a woman like Tricia Trahearn was much more suitable for him.

“Your friendship has come to mean a lot to me already,” he said, his breath disturbing her hair. He stepped back, his hands on her shoulders. “Thank you.”

Friendship. The word righted her world again, put her in her place. She smiled brightly, probably too brightly. “You’re welcome.”

He went down the stairs and was gone, leaving her body aching and unsatisfied—and grateful. She was ready for marriage, a family.

She didn’t need the complication of Dr. Ted Bonner.

Ted spotted Sara Beth standing in front window, watching him. He raised a hand toward her then got into his car without waiting for a return wave. He drove off in a burst of speed.

Why the hell had he hugged her like that? Let his hand drift down to the tempting curve of her rear? He’d been wanting to touch her since he’d come up to her bending in front of his refrigerator earlier, then later on when she’d helped him make his bed after the furniture men had left. She’d leaned over to smooth his sheets. He’d almost cupped that fine rear, had been stopped by her standing up, banging into him, a habit they’d gotten into, being clumsy around each other.

Friends with benefits. He’d been thinking about it all day, as she’d frequently gotten into his space, brushing against him to get a better look at something, smiling at him or pursing her lips as she studied a piece. She had a quick, easy laugh, light and joyful, and a slow, smoldering heat that appeared less often, but did appear, although he had to catch her off guard to see it.

And then there was the hug. He’d taken her into his arms without thinking, prepared to just give her a goodnight hug, a thanks-for-everything short embrace. Then it had become something else. Even she had felt it. She’d moved closer to him instead of away. Her breath turned shaky. She’d gone up on tiptoe, which had aligned their hips. He’d pulled back before she could feel his reaction to her, had seen her nipples pressing against her T-shirt, an invitation he wished he could accept.

Friends with benefits. He needed to give that more thought. Sure, he wanted marriage—but not yet, not even anything close to it. If he took a break now and then from his work, it needed to be for fun, for pleasure, not with an eye toward the future, no matter how much he wanted otherwise.

For pleasure. The thought settled, a hazy fantasy that lingered as he parked and went up to his loft. He admired the newly decorated space for a minute, then decided to take a shower. His answering machine caught his eye, and he remembered the message from Tricia earlier, a call he’d ignored while Sara Beth was there.

Friends with benefits. Tricia would fit the bill, at least the benefits part, and without complications. She’d invited him to dinner next Sunday for his birthday. He had no doubt they’d end up in bed, if that was what he wanted.

And he wanted. But not Tricia.

He wanted Sara Beth O’Connell. Exclusively.

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