Her Hired Husband

Her Hired Husband Renee Roszel Instant fatherhood!Wildly good-looking Noah Barrett is a dream of a hired husband. Affectionate, caring, he should easily convince Sally Johnson's visiting family that he's a doting father for Sally's soon-to-be-born baby!Their "pretend marriage" is supposed to be a temporary arrangement. Only, there's nothing pretend about Noah's very physical response to Sally! And she can't help wishing this was The Real Thing. But how will she react when it turns out that nothing about Noah is as she believes? “Oh—wait! Please!” Noah’s plan to make a swift exit was thwarted by his hostess’s entreaty. When he turned, she was lumbering down the stairs, a protective hand on her stomach. Her descent was precariously rapid and he automatically headed in her direction. “Don’t—you’ll fall.” He jogged up several steps and took her arm. “What’s so important?” “You—can’t go!” Sally said, short of breath. “What do I tell them?” Noah was confused. “About what?” “About us—being deliriously happy!” “I don’t care what you tell them.” He separated her desperate, clutching fingers from his shirtfront and took off the wedding ring she’d given him. “Tell your grandparents whatever you want. Have a good life.” She made a pained face. “I’ll pay you!” “I don’t want your money.” “What do you want? I’ll do anything!” she cried. What happens when you suddenly discover your happy twosome is about to be turned into a…family? Do you panic? Do you laugh? Do you cry? Or…do you get married? The answer is all of the above—and plenty more! Share the laughter and the tears as these unsuspecting couples are plunged into parenthood! When parenthood takes you by surprise! Her Hired Husband Renee Roszel www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) To my sons, Doug and Randy. Little did I know the eighteen months I spent pregnant with you guys would turn out to be the hardest, yet most rewarding research I’ve ever done! Love, Mom CONTENTS CHAPTER ONE (#u63a805a0-917c-5d69-baaa-091754c047a0) CHAPTER TWO (#u49512f72-9776-58a0-ba12-9dd9de85fdfe) CHAPTER THREE (#u484154db-2c03-50eb-994a-5c37af6b1330) CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo) CHAPTER ONE SALLY forced a smile as she stared at the two people she disliked most in the world. What a shame they were nearly all the family she had. In her head, she knew she didn’t owe them any explanations, but her heart told her to lie. The sound of a car crunching over the gravel driveway alerted her to the fact that her fake husband had arrived. Exhaling with relief, she blessed her brother for coming through for her. “Excuse me—grandmother, grandfather.” She rushed out of the parlor to her front door. Well, “rushed” might not be the best word, since she was eight months pregnant, and at the moment rushing wasn’t something she did with great skill. Her heart thudded as she flung open the door and tramped down the plank stairs, clutching the worn wood rail with one hand. The other was unconsciously spread across her belly, a protective gesture. “Thank goodness,” she mumbled, a little winded. She checked her watch. “Perfect timing.” The man who emerged from the pickup truck was better looking than she’d hoped for. Several inches over six feet tall, he made a striking presence in a beige polo shirt, khaki trousers and Roper boots. Wide shoulders didn’t hurt the tall-dark-and-handsome look one bit. Black, neatly trimmed hair glistened like Texas crude oil in the mild, early March sunshine. Her gaze was drawn to his eyes—amazing, mirror-bright blue, of the heavy-lidded, bedroom variety. With lashes that swept out like summertime awnings. Gazing into those eyes struck a long-dormant chord and she experienced a twinge of desire. Fine timing, she admonished inwardly. To him you look like the Goodyear Blimp! Leave it to Sam to recruit the best-looking orderly at the hospital. She’d worried about what pitiful specimen of mankind would agree to her ploy and actually show up. She was pleasantly shocked by this guy. Of course, considering Sam’s renowned bedside manner, her doctor-brother could talk a duck into an oven if he put his mind to it. She hadn’t realized she’d smiled at that thought until the man smiled back. The pleasant expression was a slight, one-sided job. Even so, with those great male lips, that lopsided grin did more to her than most full-fledged grins. She actually tingled with appreciation. Stop it, ninny, she scolded herself mentally. Don’t get giddy and feminine. Time’s wasting! He’s doing you a favor, now get on with it! Her boldly handsome orderly rounded the truck and held out a hand. “Hi, Sam sent me to—” “I know.” She grabbed his outstretched fingers and tugged him up the wooden steps. “Follow my lead.” She hauled him through the door. “Oh—and you’re a doctor.” Her whisper held an urgent, life-or-death edge. Just before entering the parlor, she remembered the ring. “Darn!” Skidding to a halt, she fished around in her smock pocket, grabbed it and shoved it onto his finger. By some miracle, it fit. “That was close.” She cast him a quick, conspiratorial look. His eyes had narrowed slightly and he stared at her curiously. She made a sheepish face. “It’s more traditional.” She grasped the hand she’d slipped the wedding band on and slung it over her shoulder. “Now, please, smile!” she commanded under her breath. “We’re deliriously happy!” She skimmed an arm around his waist. This whole farce with her grandparents was traumatic, and awkward in the extreme, but it didn’t diminish her ability to detect how solid he felt, how nice he smelled. Determinedly she drew him into the parlor, a homey disorder of over-stuffed and slightly frayed furniture in a kaleidoscope of bright patterns. Until she witnessed the undisguised repulsion in her grandparents’ eyes the place had never seemed shabby or garish. Now, she looked around, unnerved. She felt a tightening in her belly and knew it wasn’t her baby daughter kicking, but regret and hostility. How dare they make her feel inferior without even a word! That was why they were here, wasn’t it—to look down their Boston blue-blooded noses on their inadequate and tainted granddaughter? With a quick shake of her head, she stuffed her anger and got herself on track. “Honey, I want you to meet my grandparents. Abigail and Hubert Vanderkellen, from Boston.” She slanted the best grin she could manage toward her fake-devoted-husband, not quite able to look him in those gorgeous blue eyes. “Remember? I told you they’d drop by for a quick visit before leaving on their cruise later today?” The orderly glanced at her when she spoke. His inspection shifted to the older couple, sitting stiffly on the red-and-yellow floral sofa. Several heartbeats went by as he stared at them. Sally wondered what was going through his mind. He almost looked as if he was seeing a ghost. Weird. A second later he returned his gaze to her face, his brows knitting. She experienced a rush of panic and pinched him above his belt. Those stunning eyes sharpened. She didn’t blame him for being annoyed by the nip of her fingers, but hadn’t Sam explained this was important? She wouldn’t lie about being married if it weren’t absolutely necessary. She faked a giggle and focused on her grandparents. “My—sweetie is a wonderful doctor, but he’s a little forgetful.” She glanced back at the tall man beside her. She smiled, but shot a desperate plea with her eyes, begging him to get into the script and now. “Grandmother and grandfather, I’d like you to officially meet my husband—Dr. Thomas…Step.” Step? She flinched. That name came out of nowhere. How lame! Couldn’t she have thought of something more substantial? Even if she stuck to the ridiculous staircase theme, at least Banister? She tried to squelch her annoyance. It was simply bad luck she’d been looking at the stairs in the mirror over the fireplace. What difference did it make what name she made up, anyway? In an hour her grandparents would be gone. “How do you do?” Abigail Vanderkellen said, her hands remaining clasped in her lap. “I suppose I can understand why neither Sam nor Sally told us of her marriage.” She flicked a reproving glance at her granddaughter. “There has been a bit of a strain in our relationship.” A bit? Sally scoffed behind her forced smile. Like the sinking of the Titanic was a bit of bad luck! Abigail Vanderkellen shifted to present her stern look at the orderly. “Of course, you know all about that. Tom, is it?” He cleared his throat, and Sally had a bad feeling. She shot him a terrified glance, but too late. She only caught the snap of his eyes as he looked away. She would have given anything to know what he was thinking. “Actually, no.” He lifted his hand from her shoulder, and Sally could only watch helplessly as he walked around the rough-hewn pine coffee table. Her heart leaped up to lodge in her throat, cutting off her ability to breathe. Actually, no? What did he think he was he doing? “I can say with all honesty she’s told me nothing about your relationship.” He extended a hand toward Abigail. “And my friends call me Noah.” He continued to hold his position until the older woman unclenched her fists and belatedly accepted his hand. After their brief contact, he turned to Hubert. “Thomas Noah Step,” he said, shaking the older man’s hand. Sally’s heart hammered so deafeningly in her ears, she wasn’t sure she heard right. Thomas Noah Step? Then—then he was going along with it, after all. Thank goodness! Hubert gave Noah a look. “You look somewhat familiar, young man.” “I can’t say I’m surprised. I have one of those faces.” The orderly said, wearing an odd half grin. “Had we ever met, Mr. Vanderkellen, I’m sure I would remember you.” His gaze shifted to Mrs. Vanderkellen. “Both.” Harboring enough misgiving to choke a horse, Sally watched her fake husband retrace his steps. This guy may have agreed to be a part of her scheme, but he didn’t follow orders well. What was that unnecessary insistence on being Noah? Why couldn’t he have gone with Tom and saved her a near heart attack? To her astonishment, he replaced his arm across her shoulder, even giving her an affectionate squeeze. “I’d forgotten you two were dropping by.” He turned to Sally. “Darling, how long did you say they’d be here?” “Uh—an hour.” He glanced at his watch. “Ah.” Ah? What did that mean? Didn’t Sam give this guy any of the details? Why the frown at his watch? Did he have a train to catch? From looking at him, it was more likely a hot date. “Is there a problem, Dr. Step?” Hubert asked. Noah faced the older man and smiled. “Noah. And no. No problem.” He looked down at Sally. “Why don’t you sit, sweetheart?” He aimed her toward an over-stuffed chair and ottoman, liberally splashed with daffodils. “Elevate your feet. You know how your ankles swell when you stand.” Reflexively she checked her ankles. They weren’t swollen. They’d never been swollen a day in her pregnancy. She gave him a look that wasn’t totally loving. “My ankles are fine—honey.” He grinned, this time the act involved his whole mouth and some dazzling teeth. She sat down heavily, more out of a mysterious weakness in the knees than an excess of water on her ankles. She had to give this My-Friends-Call-Me-Noah credit. He had a way with smiling. She watched him in a state of agitated awe as he moved to take a seat on the sofa with her priggish grandparents. Don’t say anything that’ll blow it for me! she silently threw out, hoping he was better at telepathy than blind obedience. He was acting like the lord of the manor! “So…” Noah extended an arm along the back of the couch, looking relaxed and in charge. “You’re Sally’s grandparents. On her mother’s side?” Both Hubert and Abigail shifted in unison and stared, looking shocked. “Well, of course!” Abigail said, affront edging her tone. “Surely you knew that!” “Not necessarily.” He turned on that whopping big, sexy grin again. “Look at her. Does it look like we did much talking?” Sally could not believe that lewd remark. Her cheeks sizzled and maintaining her smile became the hardest work she’d ever done. Her baby kicked and she placed her hands over her belly. Apparently she wasn’t the only female in the room affected by his smile. “H-honey,” she said, trying to pretend amusement. “Please.” His wink was alarmingly wicked. “Sorry, sweetheart, but you know how you affect me.” He turned back to the open-mouthed Vanderkellens. “So, you’re from Boston,” he went on, conversationally. With his direct observation, Abigail and Hubert recaptured their poise and even seemed to swell a bit. Being Vanderkellens from Boston was no small thing. Everybody who was anybody in Boston knew Abigail and Hubert Vanderkellen. “Why, yes, we are,” Hubert said, though he didn’t smile. Sally watched them preen. “Have you ever been there?” Abigail asked, toying theatrically with a diamond earring, her knobby fingers heavy with all manner of pretentious stones. “I don’t mean to brag, but the Vanderkellens are an old, old family,” Hubert added, making a production of fluffing a loosely folded maroon pocket square. “I don’t get up north much,” Noah said. “What a shame.” Abigail looked truly sorry for him. “Boston is one of America’s great, historical cities.” “Houston’s got a little history, too,” he said. “I’m sure.” Abigail’s tone was so haughty, she might as well have said, “Don’t be ridiculous.” Sally ran a hand through her hair, wishing the time would pass more quickly. The clock on the brick mantel had only traveled fifteen minutes since her handsome partner in crime had arrived. She scanned her grandparents, willing them to disappear. Her antagonism bubbled to the surface. Stuffy and snobbish and narrow-minded, they sat, looking as though they feared the old farmhouse that had been her family’s home, teemed with rats and roaches and all manner of vermin that might thrive in such an uncouth wilderness. Abigail touched as little of the sofa as possible, obviously trying not to contaminate her precious, cream-colored cashmere suit. Hubert didn’t appear much more comfortable about the safety of his brass-buttoned, navy Prince of Wales blazer and gray slacks. He crossed his legs and bumped the coffee table with a foot, drawing Sally’s attention to hand-sewn leather wing tips. When he pulled a white handkerchief from an inside pocket and wiped the leather as though contact with her table had streaked it with grime, she had to struggle to keep from screaming. So what if his darn shoes cost more than all the furniture in her parlor? Her home might be a little cluttered, but it was not dirty! Both Abigail and Hubert patted their hair at the same time, a bizarre mutuality, as though they shared one brain. Both had perfectly coiffed silver locks—Abigail’s caplike hairdo not quite as long or thick or bouffant as Hubert’s. Since they hadn’t been part of Sally’s life, she didn’t know if they’d looked so much alike some fifty-odd years ago when they were married. Right now, they were equally hawk-nosed and pinch-eyed. Only their mouths were noticeably different. Hubert had a little slice of a mouth and no discernible lips. Abigail’s lips were wide, and eternally turned down disapprovingly at the corners. They would have been like her mother’s, except for the arrogance they broadcast. They were dressed for Boston’s chilly March weather, not Houston’s balmy warmth. They had to be dying of the heat, but were too cultured to show it. Besides, they would never allow themselves to acknowledge Texas existed—except in the bad dream where their headstrong daughter ran off to marry beneath her. “Sometime when you’re here longer, we’ll give you a tour.” Sally flicked her glance to her lounging fake-mate. What did he think he was doing? “Excuse me?” Hubert asked. “A tour—of Houston,” Noah repeated, with a casual host-of-the-manor smile. “We’d love to, wouldn’t we, sweetheart?” Their eyes met. His twinkled. Twinkled! He seemed to be having fun playing the part of her deliriously happy husband. But to make such sweeping statements about taking her grandparents on a tour of Houston? That was going way over the line. She might be paying him fifty bucks for this performance, but she didn’t intend to put him on the payroll forever. The last thing on earth she wanted was to spend more than an hour with these insufferable people. She aimed a hard-fought smile at him and nodded, unable to trust her voice. “You know what?” Noah said, sitting forward. Sally had no idea, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to find out. She swallowed. “What we need is something cool to drink.” He stood. “Honey?” “Oh—there’s tea in the fridge.” She started to get up, but he moved to her side, pressing down on her shoulder. “Don’t trouble yourself, sweetheart.” He bent and kissed her, his lips warm and lazily seductive. The contact was brief, but the effect was dizzying. Light-headed and short of breath, she could feel a slow, tingling sensation spread outward along her limbs. “Your ankles, remember?” His lips quirked with mild amusement. Luckily his head blocked her face from her grandparents’ view, since her expression was probably shell-shocked. Her cheeks burned, a distinct sign she was blushing. “Point me toward the kitchen,” he whispered. The request sounded like so much static at first, but belatedly his meaning sank in and she canted her head slightly to her left. He straightened, calling over his shoulder. “Who takes sugar?” “I do,” Sally said, then bit her tongue. A husband would know that, dummy! His chuckle echoed around the room. “As if I could forget.” “I don’t think we have time for tea,” Hubert called. “Sure you do,” Noah said. “I’ll only be a minute.” Sally hadn’t realized until after he’d left that simply having him there, master-of-the-house persona or no, was a big help. So far, he’d commanded most of the conversation. She cleared her throat and knotted her hands on her belly. “So—where are you going on your cruise?” “The first week will include a walking tour of the pyramids of Cozumel, after that, the usual Caribbean stops.” “Oh…” Sally didn’t know what to say. She knew about as much about Cozumel pyramids as she did about Mars. Once again, she felt like the inadequate Johnson sibling. Her big brother, Sam, was a doctor. She’d dropped out of college after one semester, to concentrate on her metal sculpture. Sam had visited Boston once, last year. He’d laughingly told her their grandparents referred to her as “a welder,” and in a whisper, on the rare occasions they mentioned her mortifying status at all. Good old Sam thought their stuffy Victorianism was hilarious, and cast it off as unimportant. But she hadn’t. Every time she thought about it, the mental picture pecked new holes in her self-esteem. She could just see them grasping at their hearts and gasping, “A Vanderkellen—welding!” It was unthinkable. “I understand Sam is leaving this afternoon on vacation, too,” Abigail said, drawing Sally from her morose thoughts. She nodded. “Scuba diving in—Bon—Bon—” She couldn’t remember. “Bonaire,” came a deep, male voice. She turned in time to see Noah stroll in, four tall glasses on a wicker tray. “H-how did you know?” she asked, then cringed. If she wasn’t careful she’d blow this herself. After all, he did know Sam. Evidently he’d heard her brother discussing it. She blew out a breath. There was his explanation. Simple and not even a lie. “Don’t you remember, darling?” He glanced at her as he lay the tray on the coffee table. “You told me about Bonaire this morning while we were in the shower.” She realized her lips had dropped open in a shocked “oh” and clamped her jaws. In the shower? Had he actually said in the shower? She cast a worried glance at her grandparents. Abigail’s eyes were a fraction wider and Hubert tugged at his collar. Her gaze zapped back to Noah, bending over the tray. If she stretched, she could just about kick that taut backside. He probably thought he was the funniest orderly at the hospital. Opting not to get physical, she cleared her throat meaningfully, but he didn’t seem to notice as he handed two glasses to her grandparents. A flash of orange and black told her he’d found some paper napkins. Unfortunately they were covered with Halloween witches and pumpkins. Well, they’d been cheap at the day-after-Halloween sale, and they worked just fine. She must not let herself feel like an inferior hostess for being frugal. When Noah handed her a glass, he said, “Six teaspoons of sugar, right, honey?” She smiled thinly. “Perfect.” She was going to die of sugar toxicity, but the show must go on. As he ambled around to seat himself on the couch, he winked at her, blatantly flaunting their illicit collaboration. She sucked in a startled breath. What if her grandparents had seen him? Though she was highly annoyed at his audacity, and promised herself she’d strangle him the first chance she had, she couldn’t stifle a wry giggle. Not only had his wink been unsubtle, but it had been sexy and appealing. Trying to adjust her attitude, she decided she’d better pretend she loved six spoonfuls of sugar, and sipped her tea. As the taste registered on her tongue, she paused in surprise. It was perfect. He hadn’t put in more than one teaspoonful, the bum. She cast him a secret look but he was focused on her grandparents as they stared at their glasses and squirmed. What did they expect to see, dirt? Abigail lifted her glass almost to her lips, paused, then replaced it on the wicker tray. “Actually, we should be going.” She checked her diamond-studded watch. “Didn’t you tell the cabdriver to be back at three-thirty, Hubert? We ought to check in at the ship.” Her husband scanned his own watch, and once again Sally had the oddest feeling she was looking at little blue-blooded bookends. “The time does fly,” Hubert murmured, pushing up to stand. Noah set his glass on the tray and stood, too. “I think I hear the cab.” He held out a hand and assisted Abigail to stand. “Now, don’t be strangers.” “I—well…” Abigail smiled briefly then averted her gaze to settle her full attention on smoothing her skirt. As Sally labored to stand, Abigail’s glance shot to her. “Oh, don’t bother.” She made a brisk, dismissing wave as though shooing a flea. “Your husband can see us to the door.” Sally sank back without argument. That was fine with her. Lately, getting out of chairs was hard enough when she really wanted to. “Have a nice cruise,” she said, taking a sip of her tea. Thank heavens! The ordeal was almost over. Relaxing back, she closed her eyes. A shriek and a thundering crash made them pop back open. The anguished howl that followed blasted her out of her chair. CHAPTER TWO NOAH felt an impact in his gut and looked down to see Abigail Vanderkellen sagging into him. Instinctively he scooped up the limp woman while he watched in shock as Hubert, who Abigail had apparently shoved in her initial panic, skidded across the entry tiles. In a bizarre slow motion the elderly man toppled sideways into a metal sculpture that depicted what appeared to be a leafy, vining plant. With Mr. Vanderkellen’s impact, the sculpture pitched over, causing a thunderous crash. Hubert quickly followed the sculpture to earth, his landing accompanied by a dull thud. After all motion ceased, Mr. Vanderkellen lay sprawled, faceup, arched awkwardly across the spiky metal. His howl brought Noah out of his momentary astonishment and he hurriedly placed a swooning Mrs. Vanderkellen on the sofa. “See to your grandmother,” he shouted at his fake wife as he rushed to Hubert. Automatically he began a preliminary examination, wondering grimly when his workday would end and his long-anticipated vacation begin? This whole blasted day had been one time-consuming hassle after another. He’d thought he’d never get out of the hospital. When he pulled into Sam’s sister’s driveway, he’d been laboring under the delusion his headaches were over for the next two weeks. The cute pregnant lady who’d struggled down those steps hadn’t given him any reason to change his mind. Not until she’d grabbed his hand, slipped a wedding ring onto his finger and whispered urgently that they were deliriously happy. That’s when he’d stepped into the Twilight Zone, and come face-to-face with a past he’d thought he’d left behind half a lifetime ago in Boston. He wasn’t surprised that Abigail and Hubert hadn’t immediately known him. After all, he’d left Massachusetts after graduating from high school and had only returned a few times to visit his family at Christmas. It was funny how life could deal you such crazy, surprising hands. As he examined Hubert, he had the fleeting wish he was still dealing with last-minute hospital hassles. Since he’d come into Sam’s sister’s house a half hour ago, things had gone a little too nuts for his taste. All he knew was, the pretty blonde, no doubt Sam’s sister, was terribly uncomfortable around her grandparents. Why that was true, he couldn’t imagine. He hadn’t known the Vanderkellens well, but they had never seemed like demons. Just a little pompous. Still, her obvious dismay had been enough for him to go along with her wordless plea. Those big, gray eyes had an uncanny effect on him. Or maybe it was her advanced pregnancy that was the deciding factor. Being an obstetrician, it would be natural for him to want to ease the stress of a woman in her condition—apparently even if he didn’t have the faintest idea what in blazes he was doing. He heard muted voices in the parlor and gathered Sam’s sister was seeing to her grandmother, who was regaining consciousness. Thank goodness for that, at least. “We’ll get you to a hospital, Mr. Vanderkellen, and—” “No,” the older man wheezed. “No hospital.” He clutched Noah’s arm. “I don’t like hospitals—I don’t need one.” “Don’t move him!” came a worried female voice from the parlor. “We need to call an ambulance!” Sam’s sister appeared at the foyer entrance. “How’s your grandmother?” “Feeling faint, but she’s getting color back in her face.” Her worried expression deepened. “What are you doing to Grandfather?” She hurried across the foyer and clutched Noah’s shoulder as though attempting to make him back off. “You’re not to move him until the ambulance arrives.” “This will go much faster if you don’t grab at me.” He leaned out of her grip. “He needs a…” She paused. The next thing he knew she was whispering sharply in his ear. “He needs a doctor!” “I know that.” Noah turned to frown at her. He’d been at the hospital since 5:00 a.m. He was tired and he didn’t feel like being grabbed, even if the grabber was attractive. “See if your grandmother would like a drink of water or a cool cloth for her head.” She looked upset and a warning blazed in her pretty eyes. “But—sweetie —you can’t—” “It’s my bad back,” Hubert broke in, moaning. “I’ve thrown it out, again. It’s nothing—serious.” With the patient’s admission of a chronic back problem, there was every indication medication and bed rest was all Hubert needed, but Noah tried again. “It would be better if you were examined at a hospital.” “No!” Hubert said gruffly, trying to prop himself up. “I won’t have it. I detest those places.” He winced, but refused to lie back. “Okay, okay,” Noah said. “Hold still. Let me help you.” With great care, he lifted the man in his arms and carried him into the parlor. Mrs. Vanderkellen was now sitting, nervous fingers patted her hair. Clearly she wasn’t a woman who lost her composure without suffering greatly for it. “Sweetheart?” Noah tried not to grit his teeth with the lie. His sham wife caught up. “Yes—dear?” “Could you help your grandmother to that easy chair. It would be best if Hubert could lie flat.” “Oh…” His deliriously happy partner in crime didn’t look deliriously happy as she scanned her pale grandmother. “Sure.” She moved to the older woman’s side. “Grandmother? May I help you to the chair?” She indicated the one she’d been sitting in. “Do you think you can make it?” Mrs. Vanderkellen didn’t look particularly delirious, either. “Of course, I’m fine.” She eyed the floor as she was helped to the chair, as though expecting to see some beast leap out at her. Once she was seated, she lifted her feet to the ottoman and peered at Hubert. “Is it his back?” Noah nodded. “I’m afraid so.” He laid his moaning burden on the vacated couch. “You said this has happened before?” “Yes.” Hubert nodded, then closed his eyes in pain. “A muscle goes into spasms.” “When this happens,” Noah asked, “what does your personal physician prescribe?” “To stay active and walk it off,” came a tart rejoinder from his wife. Hubert made a face. “Complete bed rest and a muscle relaxant,” he whispered through a moan, making it evident the effort to talk was agonizing. “I don’t recall the name of the medication.” “He’s faking!” “Please, Mrs. Vanderkellen,” Noah said, using his most compassionate bedside manner. “I need to talk to your husband.” She crossed her arms and flicked her gaze away, so he turned back to his patient. “Are you allergic to anything, sir?” “No,” Hubert whispered. “Try to relax.” Noah patted the man lightly on his shoulder. “I’ll call in a prescription and have it sent over.” “Oh, Grandfather, I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have left that metal sculpture in the hallway.” Little Mrs. Expectant ducked in front of Noah, taking her grandfather’s hand. He flinched and let out a long, elaborate groan. “I don’t recommend yanking on him,” Noah said. “He’s in severe distress.” Turning away, he headed for the foyer where he’d seen a telephone table. “I wasn’t yank—where are you going? What are you doing?” she demanded. The sound of sneakers squeaking on the wooden parlor floor told him she was catching up. He glanced her way, focusing on those big, worried eyes. “Your grandfather needs medication.” Striding across the foyer, he reached the telephone table and lifted the receiver of the old, black telephone. “What’s the nearest pharmacy?” “Bert’s Drugstore. Why?” Deciding her question would be answered if she hung around listening, he dialed. “Information, give me the number for Bert’s Drugstore.” “What are you doing?” she asked in a suspicious whisper. “What does it sound like? I’m having a prescription—thank you, operator.” He hung up with a finger on the disconnect button then dialed again. “Are you crazy?” she demanded under her breath. “You can’t—” “Hush,” he ordered, shifting away. “This is Dr. Noah Barrett, I need a prescription sent out to—” He paused, then remembered the scrap of paper Sam had written his sister’s address on, and pulled it from his trouser pocket. “—to 95099 Bobolink Lane. It’s at the end of the road. The prescription is for Hubert Vanderkellen.” As he told the pharmacist the medication and dosage, he felt several adamant yanks on his shirt. Exasperated, he peered over his shoulder. “What is it?” “How dare you presume to make a diagnosis!” Mrs. Gray-Eyes charged, her whisper rough and low-pitched. “Phoning in a prescription and pretending to be a doctor is a criminal offense!” The call completed, he hung up and scowled at her. Those huge eyes were round, horrified orbs the size of hula hoops. Her outraged expression stirred something in him and his annoyance receded a notch. “You told me I was a doctor,” he said, with a wry twist of his lips. “If you keep changing the rules, I might get confused.” She gasped, her utter dismay curiously charming. He heard Mrs. Vanderkellen snap something to her husband, but couldn’t make it out. “By the way…” He canted his head toward the parlor. “What got into your grandmother?” “Don’t change the subject! You can’t go around phoning in prescriptions, pretending to be a doctor! You can go to jail for that kind of thing, buster!” She poked his chest. “That fifty bucks I’m paying you won’t cover your bail.” “Fifty?” he asked, surprised and amused she’d planned to pay some stranger to play her husband. “Don’t even think about asking for more money!” She poked again. “And that kiss back there. That was way over the line!” He grinned. “Want me to take it back?” “Take it…” Her annoyed expression turned to confusion. “How?” He lowered his head so his mouth was a couple of inches above hers. “Like this.” When he moved closer, his intent to kiss her made clear, she jerked away, her mouth forming an O at his audacity. “Look, you can be as supercilious as you want on your own time, but right now you’re on my payroll.” He grinned. “Supercilious, huh? That’s the first time I’ve ever been called that.” “It was the nicest word I could come up with on such short notice!” He couldn’t resist a low chuckle at her mettle. “Okay, if you won’t let me take the kiss back, let’s call it even. You don’t owe me any money.” She looked startled, but misgiving continued to crinkle her forehead. “Don’t be silly. I pay my way. Now move. I’m calling an ambulance!” “Your grandfather wants no part of hospitals and considering what he told me, I think he’s right.” “Oh, you think he’s right, do you?” Her sarcasm was so thick Noah would have been hard-pressed to cut it with a saw. “I’m so relieved!” A knock sounded at the door and the pregnant little chest-poker froze. “Who could that be?” How would he know? “It’s probably for me,” Noah taunted. She made a face at his gibe before turning toward the door. He had a feeling he knew who was at the door and halted her with a hand on her wrist while he fished his wallet out of his hip pocket. “Give him this.” She frowned in confusion, as he pulled out two twenties and a ten and stuffed them into her hand. “What’s this for?” “Just hang on to it.” She started to say something but another knock snapped her head around and she hurried to the door. “Yes?” Noah couldn’t hear what was being said, but he could tell the visitor was a man. “Oh!” His hostess said in a half whisper. “Oh, my…” She stepped out on the porch and closed the door for a count of three, then was back. Her face had gone a rosy-peach color. “Was it for me?” he kidded with a lift of an eyebrow. His question seemed to bring her out of some kind of daze and she flicked her attention to him. “No—it was—an orderly…” “Did you give him the fifty?” “He took it,” she whispered, still looking befuddled. “He—he said I owed it…” After a second, her features closed in a glower. She walked to Noah and got as close as her pregnancy would allow. “Just who are you and what are you doing here?” He frowned back, mocking her. “I tried to tell you when I got here.” The color drained from her face. “Why don’t you tell me now?” He checked his watch. Time was rapidly slipping away. “I’m a friend of Sam’s, and if I’m going to catch my flight, I need to get out of here.” “Are you a—a real doctor, by chance?” she asked, her voice weak. “Not by chance, by eight years of medical school.” That horrified look returned. She had gigantic eyes, a glimmery silver color he couldn’t recall seeing before. Her white-blond hair was pulled back to her nape in a loose ponytail. Flyaway wisps framed her face in a feathery halo. Her right earlobe sported three studs, all silver, a heart, a ladybug and a hummingbird. Her left, just the heart. A bright pink T-shirt peeked out from beneath a paisley maternity dress. He could see her shapely legs from just above her knees down to purple crush socks and yellow, high-top canvas shoes. She was nothing like he’d pictured Sam Johnson’s little sister might be. Sam was a dark, quiet, button-down guy in wire-rimmed glasses. His doctorly regard gave nothing away. Noah seriously doubted Little Mrs. Bountiful, here, had kept an emotion to herself in her whole life. She had an electricity about her that was distinct and magnetic. He could feel it arcing through the air, blunting his brain. That had to be it, since he couldn’t imagine how his current circumstances would seem even vaguely palatable but for those big, animated eyes. “So—so you’re really a doctor?” The question was subdued and filled with astonishment, as though she’d just asked, So you’re really the Tooth Fairy? “I’ve got my doctor decoder ring and everything,” he teased, taking pity on her, and unsure why. Possibly those big eyes, now a little teary. “I thought you were—” “I know. Forget it,” he said. “Sam asked me to come by on my way to the airport to pick up his prescription goggles. The flight to Bonaire leaves in an hour, so I need to get to the airport.” He stuck out a hand, deciding he had just enough time for a quick introduction. “I’m Noah Barrett. Sam and I are going scuba diving. Does that ring any bells?” She swallowed and slipped her hand into his. He was startled to feel calluses on her palm, and her handshake was strong. What did this little female do all day, dig ditches? “Sam said something about scuba diving,” she murmured. “I knew he was leaving on vacation today.” Noah cocked his head toward the parlor. “Did your grandmother tell you what caused her scare?” It wasn’t until the blonde removed her hand that Noah realized he hadn’t let go. “She saw a gecko run by and apparently assumed it was some kind of plague-carrying, Texas vermin.” His fake wife shrugged, looking unhappy. “I guess it got in when I was outside with you. I think I convinced her the poor lizard wouldn’t hurt her, and was more frightened than she was.” She made a disgusted face. “Grandmother thinks Texas is a thousand miles away from civilization and expects to see man-eating rodents.” “I gathered they didn’t come here for the sheer joy of it.” “Why they came is beyond me,” she said. “The sooner we get them out of here, the better.” “They can’t leave.” His statement drew her sharp gaze. “What—what do you mean they can’t leave?” “Your grandfather’s in pain.” “What about a hospital? Pain is their thing!” He watched her solemnly, wondering at her anxious hostility. “Hubert doesn’t need hospitalization. Just bed rest. I don’t think anyone could get him inside a hospital unless he was unconscious.” She glanced quickly toward the parlor, her expression a mix of belligerence and panic. “Well, he can’t stay here.” “Why not? He’s your grandfather.” “Because I don’t want him here!” Noah shook his head, baffled. “They’re family.” “So? They never acted like family—not while…” She closed her mouth. “Why I don’t want them here is not your concern.” She was absolutely right. Noah was vaguely curious about this new wrinkle, since as a boy he’d crossed the Vanderkellens’ path at this-or-that Boston social function. But he didn’t have time to indulge his curiosity. Bowing his head slightly, he ended the argument. “Have it your way. I’ll get Sam’s goggles and go.” He indicated the direction of the kitchen. “Sam thought they might be on the screened porch. I assume it’s back there?” The blonde’s furrowed brow didn’t ease. “I haven’t seen them, but yes, the porch is off the kitchen.” She waved him away, making it clear she had more urgent problems to contend with. “Check if you want.” He took a step, then stopped. “By the way,” he whispered. “What’s your name?” She blinked as though being dragged back from some dark place. “What?” “Your name?” “Oh—Sally—Sally Johnson.” He was surprised she was single, but he supposed he shouldn’t be. He’d seen a lot of single mothers in his practice. It was only that, knowing Sam and how smart and logical he was, Noah wouldn’t have thought his sister would be quite so uncircumspect. “Well, good luck, Sally.” She pressed her fingertips to her temples and closed her eyes, exhaling. When Noah faced the fact she either hadn’t heard him or didn’t intend to respond, he went in search of the goggles. Five minutes of searching around, under and behind a platform glider, stacked scraps of metal, a bike, gardening tools, flower pots and a potting bench, finally brought success. Noah returned to the foyer, the goggles jutting from his hip pocket. Nobody was in the entry, but he heard voices in the parlor. When he looked in to say goodbye he was met by those blasted shimmery eyes, another silent plea hitting him full force. “Everything okay?” he found himself asking. She motioned him inside. “Uh—honey—could you take grandfather up to my—er—our room? He and grandmother will be staying.” Noah felt a hitch in his chest at her use of the endearment. For a moment, he’d forgotten their charade. He gave his watch a quick, worried look. “Well—sure.” “This is ridiculous,” Mrs. Vanderkellen said. “You never wanted to go on the walking tour of the pyramids! I should have known you’d—” Hubert’s loud moan cut off his wife’s tirade. He clutched at his lower back. “Oh, the pain!” “He took a pretty bad fall,” Noah interjected. Mrs. Vanderkellen slid Noah a dubious look, as though he were part of some demonic conspiracy, but didn’t voice her suspicions. “It will take an outrageous tip to get that cabbie to move the bags in off the drive,” she muttered. “Noah, handle that.” After taking care of the driver, Noah trudged up the stairs with his spindly burden, depositing Hubert in Sally’s sunny room on a patchwork quilt decorating a pine four-poster. “After he gets some medication, I’ll help you get him into bed.” Mrs. Vanderkellen rummaged in her purse and didn’t immediately answer. When she turned around she held a canister of some sort. Instead of responding to his offer, she began to fog the air with what smelled like disinfectant. Ducking under the reeking jet, he left the room and nearly crashed into Sally, lurking in the hall, wringing her hands. “So, you’re letting them stay after all,” he said. “That’s nice.” “Nice?” she echoed, clearly miserable. “They told me their house in Boston is being completely redecorated. They think all but a handful of hotels are filthy places teeming with the germs of a thousand strangers. And not surprisingly, not one of those adequate hotels is in this country. Oh, and they wouldn’t consider imposing on friends. Can you believe that? They don’t want to impose on friends! But, me, they can impose on.” “They’re family—” “Look, Dr. Garrett,” she cut in. “I’m sure you have a warm and fuzzy relationship with your grandparents, and I’m sure they’re as sweet as teddy bears. But not everybody is that lucky.” He didn’t have time to get into a discussion about his family dynamics, though he had a feeling she’d be surprised about a few details if he did. So he merely corrected, “It’s Barrett.” “What?” He shook his head. “Never mind. It was interesting to meet you, Sally.” He loped down the stairs, racing the clock. “Oh—wait! Please!” His plan to make a swift exit was thwarted by his hostess’s entreaty. When he turned, she was lumbering down the stairs, a protective hand on her stomach. Her descent was precariously rapid and he automatically headed in her direction. “Don’t—you’ll fall.” He jogged up several steps and took her arm. “What’s so important?” “You—can’t go!” she said, short of breath. Pulling him into the parlor, she added, “What do I tell them?” Noah was confused. “About what?” “About us—being deliriously happy!” He stared at her, not believing this. Their playacting had been amusing for a few minutes, but now it was just strange. “Look—Sally was it?” He separated her desperate, clutching fingers from his shirt front and took off the wedding ring she’d given him. “I don’t care what you tell them.” Plunking it into her hand, he went on. “I’ve been looking forward to a vacation for three years. Three years,” he repeated. “My flight leaves in forty-five minutes. Tell your grandparents whatever you want. Tell them I had to go to a medical convention. Or aliens beamed me up to the mother ship. I don’t care.” He closed her fingers over the wedding band, and squeezed as a parting gesture. “Have a good life.” She made a pained face. “I’ll pay you!” “I don’t want your money.” “What do you want? I’ll do anything!” she cried. “Don’t you see? They think I’m inferior. They think my mother married beneath her, that my dad was some kind of inferior subspecies just because he was a firefighter from Texas and not old money from Boston. If they find out I’m having a baby and I’m not married—well, they’ll be convinced I’m the riffraff they predicted.” “Riffraff?” Noah was astonished by such a crazy statement. “I doubt that. I’d have to agree raising a child without a stable, two-parent family is hardly ideal, but I’m sure you’re making more out of their reaction than—” “I’m not! You don’t know me or my grandparents, so you can keep your opinions to yourself! Doctors!” she scoffed. “Insufferable know-it-alls, every last one of you.” She eyed him angrily. “Why I’m having this baby is my business, not my grandparents’ or yours.” “If you’ll recall, you dragged me into it.” “That was my mistake,” she said. “But I’m not making a mistake about my grandparents’ attitude. They’re the world’s most self-righteous, narrow-minded, class-conscious, stuffy snobs!” She pressed her fists against her temples. “I won’t let them blame any decisions I’ve made on inferior Johnson genes. I couldn’t stand seeing their revolted expressions if they knew the father of my baby came from a freezer in a sperm bank, and a glorified turkey baster played cupid!” Noah was startled to hear there was no man in the picture. She was pretty enough to have her pick of daddies for her child. He wondered why she’d opted to get pregnant at all, let alone by artificial insemination. Maybe she didn’t like men. Whatever the reason, it wasn’t his concern. “Look, I can see you’re upset, and I feel for you, but this isn’t a good time.” She stared at him for a heartbeat, her pinched expression making it clear she didn’t buy his “I feel for you” remark. Maybe she was more correct in her assessment than he cared to admit. Single motherhood was a tough row to hoe. To choose it voluntarily was highly unorthodox and questionable. If Miss Johnson was like too many of his single-parent patients, she hadn’t given adequate thought to what she was getting herself—and an innocent child—into. “Right.” Heaving an exhale, she threw up her hands in defeat. “It’s not your problem and you’ve got a plane to catch.” She indicated her grandparents’ bags. “But could you—er—take those up, first? There’s no way my grandmother could do it—or even consider it—and I don’t think I could get that trunk upstairs without going into premature labor.” He shot the pile of luggage an unfriendly glare, but hesitated for only a second. Somehow he knew arguing with this little dynamo would merely waste time. “Okay. All right,” He headed for the suitcases. “Then I’m gone.” The phone rang, but Noah paid little heed. His focus was on the eight matching leather suitcases and one steamer trunk the size of a compact car. Exactly how long had the Vanderkellens planned to be away on their cruise. Four years? “It’s for you,” Sally held out the receiver. “Somebody named Jane. Says it’s important.” He stopped in the middle of hefting the trunk. “Jane?” His girlfriend was at the airport with Sam and his fianc?e, Dorothy. Maybe their flight had been delayed. For once that would be good news. He lowered the trunk to the foyer tiles and took the device from Sally’s outstretched hand. “I’ll get your fifty,” Sally whispered. He shook his head, covering the mouthpiece. “It won’t do you any good. I won’t take it.” Noah made a point of turning away to indicate the subject was closed. “Hi, honey. What’s up?” “Sugar!” came a familiar, breathy voice. “We’re waiting. What’s keeping you?” “I’m just—” “Noah, you have to get here. I’ve got a wonderful surprise for you!” He didn’t doubt that, and grinned. When he started to reassure her, she rushed on. “Oh, I can’t stand it. I have to tell!” His grin faded. This was wasting time, but he knew better than to try to stop Jane in the middle of a gush. “Lovey,” she said, sounding coy. “I’ve made a slight change in the itinerary.” Her pause was just drawn-out enough for Noah to experience a prick of apprehension. “Dorothy told me about Bonaire, and I’m sure you didn’t realize there’s absolutely no night life there. Nothing but scuba diving.” “That’s what we’re doing,” he reminded her, experiencing a twinge of irritation. “Remember, you said you wanted to learn.” “Well, sure, but I thought we’d do that one afternoon, maybe two. I didn’t think you meant to scuba dive day in and day out for the whole vacation!” Her voice had taken on a slight whine. “Noah, with my delicate skin, I can’t spend a lot of time in the sun. That’s why I changed our reservations to the most scrumptious hotel on Aruba. You’ll adore it. Aruba isn’t that far away from Bonaire. You can maybe meet Sam and Dorothy a couple of mornings to dive while I sleep in. It’ll be absolute heaven!” Noah heard his vacation plans getting flushed, but couldn’t believe it. “You’re kidding, right?” he said with a light laugh, presuming this was her idea of a joke. He hadn’t been diving since college and was excited about starting again. For a long time he’d been searching for an antidote for the stress and long hours of his work. Something to balance out a career he loved, but found too all-consuming. He needed peace, a quiet place to go and rest, both physically and emotionally. The cool, silent primeval depths of the ocean seemed perfect. His first effort in finding emotional peace had been his relationship with Jane. She was beautiful, always ready for fun. But after two years, he was starting to realize something was missing. “Kidding?” she asked. “Why would I kid, Noah? We can do our thing and they can do theirs. Doesn’t it sound like heaven?” He experienced a tightening in his gut as the detestable truth hit. “No, Jane,” he muttered. “It doesn’t.” “What?” Noah could almost laugh at the disbelief in her tone. She had no idea he might be angry, that he would consider what she’d done to be self-centered, high-handed manipulation. Just two months before, to Jane’s dismay, he’d turned down a plum job at Boston’s Women’s Hospital. According to her, in her invariable whine, “the Barrett name means something in Boston! You could do anything you want, be important there!” To appease her, he’d been forced to get Sam to cover for him while he took her on a long, romantic weekend in Las Vegas. Yeah, he knew all about the Barrett name and the obligatory pomp and circumstance that came with it in Boston society. That was a major reason he’d left to attend the University of Texas, then Baylor’s College of Medicine. By the time he graduated he’d lost his Boston accent, loved the casual comfort of cowboy boots, so he’d stayed on to open his ob-gyn practice in Houston. The Barrett name didn’t mean a hill of beans in Houston. Besides, he liked his patients, especially the cases he saw one day a week when he volunteered at a charity clinic. He remembered how Jane had complained, “But you can have your precious charity cases in Boston, too!” Noah didn’t bother to explain his feelings—that his patients were not merely names on files, but flesh and blood, and they depended on him. At this moment he was not only furious and frustrated, but suddenly weary of the high-maintenance relationship with Jane. He needed a little space, some time to calm down. With a gritted curse, he caught sight of Sally Johnson, trudging up the stairs, lugging one of the bags. He frowned as a bizarre thought struck. “Sweetie?” Jane’s query drew him back. “Where did you go?” “Put Sam on,” he muttered, the vague beginnings of an idea forming in his mind. “What?” “Put Sam on, Jane,” he repeated, working to hold his temper. He heard her call Sam. As he waited he ground his teeth. “Hey, buddy, can’t find the goggles?” “I found them.” “Good. See you soon.” “I don’t think so.” Noah was not ordinarily an impulsive man. But right now he was angry, so he wasn’t quite himself. “Your sister asked me to do her a favor,” he said, deciding to go with the impulse and let the chips fall where they may. “Tell Jane to enjoy herself. I’ll join her as soon as I can.” Literal translation, When I cool off. Sam laughed. “Very funny.” “I’m serious. I’ll mail your goggles.” There was a pause. “Jane’s going to be royally ticked.” “That’ll make two of us.” “She told you?” “Yeah.” Sam cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know what she’d done until we got here.” In the silence that followed, Noah sensed Sam was working to keep from speaking disparagingly about his best friend’s girl. “So—what’s this favor you’re doing for my sister?” “No big deal.” Angry and restless, he shoved a hand through his hair. “I’m just going to be her husband.” CHAPTER THREE SALLY lugged the heavy bag up the steps, trying to ignore the telephone conversation going on in the foyer. It wasn’t hard. The doctor had lowered his voice, so she couldn’t hear what was being said no matter how hard she strained—not that she was straining. She fought off a wish that the plane had mechanical problems and her phony husband wouldn’t be able to leave right away. Maybe with a little reprieve she’d have time to come up with some plausible reason for him to be going out of town. A medical conference did seem like a workable idea. “What a mess,” she muttered as she lugged the bag one step at a time. It thudded into the riser of each on-coming step as she labored, dragging and bouncing it to each, new level. Out of nowhere, a hand swept in to relieve her of the burden. Luckily she had a firm grip on the worn banister or she’d have tumbled backward in surprise. “Hi,” Noah said, his expression less than delighted. “I’ve got this one,” she said. “If you could just get the trunk before you go.” “I’m not going.” His nostrils flared as he ground out the statement. “Not today.” She stared, confused. “Did—did something go wrong with the airplane?” He shook his head. “I just decided…” He shrugged. “Sam did me a favor a couple of months ago. I figured I could help out his sister for a day or two. Pay him back.” He shifted the bag to his other side and held out a hand. “Better give me that ring.” She felt cotton-headed. “Ring?” One corner of his mouth quirked upward, but there was no humor in his eyes. “With this ring, I thee wed?” “Oh…” She found herself wholly focused on that cynical half smile as she listened to him repeat a line of the wedding vows. An unruly warmth sang through her body, and she wondered at her bizarre reaction. She’d never been through a wedding, though she’d been engaged. To a doctor. For a short time. But as pregnant as she was, standing beside this stranger, his lips twisted sardonically as he gruffly spoke a handful of sacred words, her heart did an odd series of flip-flops. She shook herself. Sally Johnson get a grip. The man is being sarcastic. Besides, you look like a double-decker bus with a head! Belatedly, and fearful the burning in her cheeks meant she was blushing, she fished her daddy’s wedding ring from her pocket and handed it to him. “I—I don’t know how to thank you, Dr. Garrett.” He lay the bag down, slid the ring onto his left hand, then scowled her way. “First, the name’s Barrett, not Garrett, and second, call me Noah.” “Shouldn’t I—probably call you sweetheart or honey—like we did in the parlor?” He picked up the luggage. “Call me whatever your idea of ‘deliriously happy’ is. Only quit calling me Dr. Garrett.” “What are you going to call me?” He’d taken a step up, but with her question he turned. That magnetic, twisted grin reappeared. “What about sugarplum? That has a deliriously happy ring to it.” She wrinkled her nose. “Too gooey.” He chuckled, the sound rich and deep. He was laughing at her, but for some reason it didn’t matter to her raging hormones. Another rush of heat washed over her. “You look like a sugarplum to me,” he said. She frowned at his taunting. “Round and purple?” He grinned, this time it wasn’t crooked or skewed, but with his whole mouth, if not his eyes. Even as halfhearted as the pleasant expression was, the effect made her catch her breath. “Not purple,” he said, then turned away. “More like fuchsia.” She didn’t know why that last remark struck her as funny. Clearly he was taunting her. Still, she found herself fighting a smile. “I’d rather you call me honey or sweetheart.” “Check—sugarplum.” She experienced a prick of annoyance at his reckless disobedience and frowned at him as he climbed the steps. For some crazy reason, she couldn’t drag her gaze away. She wondered why. It certainly wasn’t the way his trousers fit across his backside, or the sly impression against khaki of taut muscle, shifting and bunching in his thighs and calves, as he moved. Irritated with herself, she made a face. “Don’t lust after the doctor, Sally,” she mumbled. “Remember the last doctor you…” She clamped her jaws and headed down the steps to fetch another bag. She needed to concentrate on how she and Dr. Garrett—er —Barrett were going to carry off this farce. Her little deception had seemed so easy, so foolproof, when it had just been for an hour. Who would have guessed things could get this fouled up? As she stepped to the foyer tiles, a knock sounded at the door. She answered it to find the pharmacy delivery boy. She’d just closed the door when Noah reappeared, taking the stairs two at a time. To her great dismay, he looked every bit as sexy coming down as he did going up. The baby kicked, and she winced. “Right. The doctor’s sexiness is none of our business.” “Did you say something to me?” She shook her head, fearing she wasn’t quite able to vanquish her sheepish expression. “I was talking to little Vivica.” She patted her stomach. His thundercloud expression cleared slightly. “A girl?” She nodded, taking the prescription from the bag and scratching at the name Barrett until it was mutilated and unreadable. “That’s probably something you should know.” “What the hell are you doing?” he asked. She peeled the little sticker off that said something about not driving while taking the medicine and restuck it over the rubbed and smudged area where the word Barrett had been. “What does it look like I’m doing, Dr. Step?” With her emphasis on their fake married name, he got it. “Oh, right. Good thinking.” “Thanks.” She replaced the prescription in the bag. “And, by the way, Vivica was my mother’s name.” “The Vanderkellens’s daughter?” “Right. And the baby’s middle name’s Charlotte. Daddy’s mother’s name. Grandmother and grandfather wouldn’t know that, but you should.” “And when’s little Vivica Charlotte Step due?” “Four weeks. April 1.” She raised a hand when he started to speak. “I know. I know. It’s April Fool’s Day, but Vivica has promised to be a little early or a little late.” She held out the pharmacy bag. “Here you go.” He scooped up a couple of suitcases. “You and Vivica take it to him. I’ll finish with these.” He started up, then glanced back. “My bag is in my truck. Where do you want me to stow it?” Sally was momentarily stymied. She hadn’t thought about the consequences of her fake husband staying on —an actual physical presence needing actual physical space. Drat! Why had Abigail Vanderkellen shoved Hubert into that sculpture? It had to be bad karma. Obviously, since she’d decided to lie, she was going to pay big! “Uh—I guess—the room upstairs at the end of the hall.” He nodded. “Check.” Sally was suddenly smacked in the face with a daunting reality. Miserable and shaky, she lowered herself to sit on a step. Other than the nursery, which at the moment had no bed in it at all, the room at the end of the hall was the only other bedroom in the house. Unfortunately for them both, Noah Barrett would be forced to share it with an extremely pregnant roommate. Sally dropped her head in her hands, praying that her hired husband would take the news well. Or failing that, at least take it quietly. The afternoon was long; tension filled the air. Hubert spent most of his time moaning and insisting he couldn’t move while Abigail spent her time insisting he get up and “walk it off.” Sally cleared out some closet space, explaining the lack of masculine clothing in a vague statement that they were in the middle of “rearranging things for the baby.” Not that Abigail cared or even listened. She spent most of her time glaring at Hubert and spraying disinfectant. Noah had been quiet and grim when out of sight of the Vanderkellens. He’d made one trip into town to pick up food for Abigail’s “delicate palate.” Which, translated, meant she assumed anything already opened in Sally’s refrigerator was contaminated. Sally took a dinner tray of newly purchased cottage cheese, peach slices and freshly ground designer coffee to her grandmother. As she trekked back downstairs, she wondered if Abigail’s need to eat beside Hubert’s bedside was because she was so devoted, or because she hadn’t disinfected the kitchen. She reentered the kitchen surprised to see Noah standing at the gas range, stirring the ingredients in her frying pan. At the sound of her entry, he glanced toward the door, his expression closed and unreadable. She still reeled at his decision to forgo the first few days of his precious vacation to help her. Whatever the favor Sam had done for Noah must have been a whopper. It was clear he was far from happy he’d made this choice. Maybe she would ask what tipped the scales in her favor. Later. Right now she opted for a more immediate question. “What are you doing to the fried potatoes and onions?” “They were starting to stick.” She was amazed he’d noticed. Black smoke could have been billowing out, filling the room with choking smog and Sam wouldn’t have registered any problem. “Thanks.” She took the cooking fork from his hand. “I think the meat loaf is ready. We could eat.” “What about a salad?” She peered at him. She wasn’t a salad person, but she’d tried hard to include them in her diet. On occasion. “Uh, I don’t know what I have…but if you want one…” She waved the cooking fork toward the refrigerator, giving permission to look. He indicated her belly, covered by a color-happy, ruffled apron. “I think some raw greens would be good for Vivica.” Sally wasn’t accustomed to having anybody tell her what to do, but she held her temper. After all, Noah was doing her a favor. “Well—if you can find anything saladlike, feel free.” He rummaged through the refrigerator. “So, how’s your grandfather?” “Asleep. I think in self-defense. Unconscious he can’t hear grandmother accusing him of malingering.” Noah’s deep, cynical chuckle filled the air. “I gathered from what I heard, the first week of their cruise included an extensive walking tour of the pyramids of Cozumel. I got the strong impression Hubert was not particularly hot for it.” “The second week is supposed to take them to St. Martin, St. Thomas and Martinique where, according to Abigail, Hubert planned to play golf, golf and more golf, which she abhors with a passion.” Noah straightened and it appeared from Sally’s vantage point at the stove, that he’d found a few items that might be considered saladish. “Sounds to me like you can count on Hubert recovering in a week.” Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/renee-roszel/her-hired-husband/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.