Her Christmas Baby Bump
Autor
Robin Gianna
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19,9K
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14
Chapter One
“HELLO, KATE? IT’S just me.” Hope Sanders gently knocked on the door and stepped inside her patient’s room. “Let’s check and see how it’s going, shall we?”
Kate kept sucking on her ice cube and just stared, apparently so exhausted she couldn’t conjure up any kind of response. Hope gave her a positive smile, sending up a silent prayer that, this time, the poor woman would finally be ready to deliver. After thirty-six hours of labor, any soon-to-be mother was beyond ready, mentally and emotionally, but sometimes her body and her baby just wouldn’t cooperate the way everyone wished they would.
“Are you feeling all right?” Hope asked as she washed her hands and snapped on green examination gloves. “Contractions any worse or more frequent?”
“I’m not sure. I just want the baby out. Why can’t you get it out?” Kate asked in a tearful voice.
“I know. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Hope gave Kate’s huge belly a gentle pat. “And you’ve been so tough throughout all these hours. But you’re making good progress, so the doctor and I are pretty positive we can avoid a C-section. Maybe you’re there now, so let’s see.”
“I’m sorry,” Kate said, sniffing back her tears as Hope began an internal exam. “I shouldn’t snap at you like that. Why on earth did you want to become a midwife and have to deal with cranky women like me?”
“First, you’re not cranky, believe me. You’ve been very brave and stoic all this time.” And the truth of that made Hope smile as she thought of the many mums who’d been so far past cranky during labor that there wasn’t a word for it. “I enjoy helping mums through the difficulty of labor and delivery, and on to the joy of getting to hold their newborns for the first time. There’s nothing as beautiful as a baby, is there? That’s exactly why I became a midwife.”
As she said the words the truth of that statement, and the emotion that came with it, closed her throat. Was she really, hopefully, about to have a baby of her very own? What she’d dreamed of when she’d first studied midwifery? When she’d thought she had all the time in the world to establish her career before having children, never imagining she’d still be alone at thirty-four?
“Well, you’ve been great, Hope, helping make all these hours more bearable,” Kate’s husband said. “We really appreciate it.”
“Thank you. That means a lot to me.” Hope’s findings from the internal exam sent a huge sigh of relief from her lungs. She gave Kate a big smile she didn’t have to force this time. “Guess what? Great news! You’re there, Kate! Fully dilated at ten centimeters. Baby has decided she’s ready to come into the world.”
Kate kept licking her ice cube, almost as if she hadn’t heard Hope, but her husband practically leaped out of his chair and came to stand by the bed. The poor man had dark circles all around his eyes and was about as disheveled as a person could look, but his beaming smile banished his obvious fatigue.
“You mean the baby’s coming? It’s time?”
“It’s time. I’m putting a heart-rate monitor around your belly, Kate, so we can see how baby is doing during delivery,” Hope said as she strapped it on, praying this final stage went a lot more smoothly and quickly than the previous hours. “We need to get pushing. Can you give me a push next time you feel a contraction? I know you aren’t feeling them as strongly because of your epidural, but tell me when you do.”
“I...I’m having one,” she said, sitting up straighter and looking alert now.
“Then give me a push. That’s it. Well done. Again.” Hope kept giving her gentle encouragement and checking her progress, pleased the fetal monitor showed the baby’s heart rate was normal. Maybe after the long ordeal, this delivery really would be quick and easy. “Wonderful! Nice job.”
Kate moaned and pushed as her husband clutched her hand. “Breathe now, love. Breathe.”
“Yes, Kate,” Hope said. “Take a breath between contractions. Puff, puff, puff. Then during a push, tuck your chin down, hold your breath and give it all you’ve got.”
Kate worked hard, and Hope kept her tone soothing and encouraging, knowing if she exuded a relaxed composure it helped the mother in labor stay composed, too. After only a few more contractions, the top of baby’s head was suddenly there, visible, and Hope sent mum another huge grin. “She’s crowning! Almost here, Kate. Give me a push. You’re doing a great job. Okay, I’ve got her head. One more push now. One more. Yes! You did it!” She wrapped her hands around the baby’s shoulders and helped her slide out into her new world.
Hope’s heart leaped into her throat as she held the slippery infant. No matter how many times she did this, the wonder of it, the miracle, hit her every single time, filling her chest with elation.
“Here she is, Mum! Perfect and beautiful. Congratulations.” She laid the infant on Kate’s chest, letting them marvel over their new little one for just a moment. “You were wonderful, even after being so tired. I’m so proud of you!”
Kate held her baby close, murmuring and cooing, and Hope hated to disturb the sweet moment. “I’m sorry, but I need to take her, as we don’t want her to get chilled. We’ll get her cleaned up and warm, then I promise I’ll have her back to you in a jiffy.”
As she lifted the baby from her mother’s chest and placed her on the cloth her assistant held, Hope saw tears sliding down the new father’s cheeks as he leaned down to kiss his wife.
A pang of something sharp stabbed at Hope’s heart. Regret, maybe, that she’d never experience that? That her own baby, if she was blessed with one soon, wouldn’t have a daddy who wept at its birth and was there as he or she grew up? And all because of Hope’s physical and emotional inadequacies?
She sucked in a calming breath and attended to Kate as the nurse assistant placed the baby in the bassinet beneath the heat lamp. She rubbed her all over until she was clean and rosy, slid a little knit cap onto her tiny head, then swaddled her in blankets. Hope lifted the infant into her arms, pausing for a moment before taking her to her daddy.
Serious blue-gray eyes stared up at her with a frown furrowing her tiny brows, as though she was asking Hope where in the world she was and why she was there. As Hope looked at the tiny, vulnerable new life she pictured her very own baby in her arms. The thought sent a thrill surging through her veins, warring with an icy fear that seemed to freeze her blood at the very same time.
She was close, so close, to that dream if she went through with her plans. But would her own child look to her with those same questions in its eyes? Who am I, and why am I here? Would she be able to answer, You’re here because I love you? Would she be the kind of mother she wanted to be?
She tore her gaze from the precious one staring accusingly at her and took the baby to her parents, placing her gently into her father’s arms.
“Your new daughter. Congratulations again.”
Both stared at their newborn in awe as Hope swiped her cold hands down her scrubs. Terrifying doubt choked her. Would making a baby of her own be the right decision, or would it be a horrible mistake?
She fiercely shook off the sudden and disturbing doubts. She’d wanted a baby forever. Adored babies. Adored children, too. She was running out of time for that dream to come true, and despite her history, despite what her old boyfriend had said, there was no reason on earth to fear that she might not be capable of being the loving mother she so wanted to be.
Prayed she could be. Would be.
“She’s so beautiful.” Kate’s husband looked at his wife. “She looks like you, I think.”
Kate laughed. “Am I that pink and puffy right now? Probably, yes.” She reached to stroke the baby’s cheek, her voice becoming a whisper. “You were an awful lot of effort, but you were worth it, sweetest one.”
She and her husband shared a long, intimate smile, and Hope felt that irritating pang jab her again. What was wrong with her? Why the sudden sadness over not having a man in her life, when she clearly had never wanted one? Why the ridiculous doubt when she’d been happy and confident before?
“Have you picked out a name for her?” Hope asked, busying herself with the final things that needed to be done for Kate post-delivery. Distracting herself with small talk was sure to banish these peculiar and unwelcome feelings swirling around her belly.
“Nine months didn’t seem like long enough to decide,” Kate said with a grin. “But we finally whittled it down to either Emily or Rachel.”
“I’m fond of the more traditional names, and those are both very pretty.”
“Here, love, you hold her for a bit.” Her husband placed the baby in Kate’s arms and stared at the infant with his brows creased. “She’s...she looks like a—”
“Rachel,” they both said simultaneously, then laughed.
“Perfect,” Hope said, her throat absurdly clogging up at this scene that could have come straight from a chick flick. Lord, you’d think she hadn’t delivered hundreds of babies in her career. Or that she’d already received the upcoming hormone injections, with these kinds of silly emotions pinging all over the place.
Probably should buy some stock in a handkerchief company right now. If this kept up, for the next nine months she’d be sobbing all over her patients with every healthy delivery.
“You’re all set now, Kate.” She stripped off her gloves and managed to smile at the giddy new parents. “I’ll be back in a bit to see how you’re doing.”
Hope headed down the hospital corridor to write up her notes on Kate and baby Rachel and glanced at her watch, glad to see her shift was almost over. And for once her Friday night would be filled with something more than just a casual dinner with friends.
Tonight was the big gala fund-raiser organized by one of the hunkiest doctors at Cambridge Royal Hospital. Not only was the man absurdly good-looking, Aaron Cartwright apparently cared about children, too, creating the foundation that promoted adoption in and around Cambridge. Plus, he’d been nice enough to invite several midwives and obstetricians from the hospital to share a few adoption stories their patients had experienced, knowing some financial donors might be interested in hearing them.
Hope had long admired Aaron Cartwright from afar, starting the very first day she’d spotted him in the hospital three years ago, stopping mid-step to do a double take at the man. He might be a man with a bit of a playboy reputation, but who cared? A woman didn’t have to be in the market for a relationship to enjoy looking at a heartthrob.
Tonight she’d finally get to meet the dreamy doc, who half the women in the hospital swooned over. While enjoying champagne and yummy food and dancing, before the start of her new life.
The bounce began to come back to her step as she walked into her office. What could possibly be a more perfect Friday-night distraction to get her mind back on the right track?
* * *
“You’re going to be late if you don’t finish up soon.”
Aaron Cartwright looked up from the pamphlets he’d been grabbing from a drawer outside an exam room to see Sue Calloway frowning at him. Her lips were pursed and her hands held several clothes hangers filled with his tux, shirt, bow tie and cummerbund. “Isn’t organizing my wardrobe outside an office manager’s job description?”
“Nothing’s outside my job description and you know it,” she said. “You’ve been with your patients almost an hour already, and everyone’s going to be wondering where you are.”
“No one will be wondering about me. They’ll all be happily eating and drinking and won’t even notice when I show up.” He gently tapped the top of her head with the brochures. “Don’t worry, though, we’re almost done. This couple is nervous, and need a little more TLC before they’re ready to go home. I’m giving them loads of stuff to read to keep them occupied, even though I already gave them plenty.”
“When is their IVF procedure scheduled?”
“This Tuesday. And now I’m going back in there, unless you want to give me more grief and make me even later.”
“Well, hurry, then,” she said in a testy voice, her twinkling eyes belying her tone. “I’d give you a little shove to get you going if I could, except my arms aren’t free. Don’t keep me standing here holding your finery forever.”
He chuckled, shaking his head as he headed back into the room. Not too many other doctors were lucky enough to have someone like Sue to run the office—and his schedule—like a drill sergeant.
The anxious expressions on the couple sitting in the consulting room showed Aaron he hadn’t alleviated their worries. But with the latest advances in fertility techniques and a little luck, the procedure he’d proposed could work for them.
He sat and put on his most reassuring smile, handing them the additional brochures on in vitro fertilization and the newest technique he was recommending. “I understand this has been a stressful and difficult struggle for both of you, but now that we know exactly what’s going on there’s a better than good chance you’ll be able to conceive.”
“How many times have you done this ICSI procedure, Dr. Cartwright?” John Walters asked.
“More times than I can count. And the success rate of ICSI is a solid ninety percent. In fact, my success rate has been even higher than that, if I can toot my own horn a little.” He smiled again. “As I told you before, I’m a big believer in this procedure. Under circumstances like yours, it’s much better than the shotgun approach of traditional IVF.”
John’s lips were pressed into a grim line, and Aaron reached to squeeze his shoulder. Infertility issues were hard on everyone, but many men had a more difficult time dealing with it when it was due to their physical issues, as opposed to their wives’. As though it made someone less of a man, which of course it didn’t. There were all too many men who made babies only to abandon them, and plenty of others who were donors but in no way could be considered fathers. Whose children would never know where they came from.
“I know you said you will only implant two eggs, but I still think we should implant more than that,” Angela said, clutching her husband’s hand. “I mean, it gives us a better chance of having one take, right? And if we ended up having multiple babies, we’d be more than happy about that.”
“You think now that you would, but multiples are harder on the mother’s body. More likely to lead to preterm birth with complications resulting from that, as well as serious birth defects. Not to mention that caring for triplets or quads can be harder than anyone imagines.”
Harder than his own biological mother ever imagined. Even harder on her children, ending with tough consequences for all of them.
“I know, but still. I feel like this could be our last chance. So why not, when we’re ready to accept whatever happens?”
The dormant emotion that occasionally surged to the surface and threatened his cool at times like this always took him by surprise. It had all happened so long ago, so why? Maybe he was like a sapling that had seeded next to barbed wire. He’d still managed to grow strong, absorbing it inside until it was invisible, but the sharp pain could still deeply stab when he least expected it.
He drew a long breath, battling to keep his voice calm. Firm and authoritative without verging on dictatorial. But he believed it was an important part of his job, a critical part, to help patients make responsible decisions, no matter how desperate they were for a baby.
“I appreciate that this has been a long and difficult process for both of you, Angela. And as I said before, if you want to work with another specialist who feels differently than I do on this subject, I will completely understand if you prefer to do that. You wouldn’t have to start all over again—there are several doctors in this hospital I can refer you to, giving them your history and information on the meds you’ve been taking. I would guess someone else would be available to do the ICSI procedure soon.”
“No,” Angela said, shaking her head. “Everyone has told us you’re the best at the ICSI procedure, Dr. Cartwright. I’m just...I’m worried that with only two eggs, none will take.”
“And I’m not going to deny that that’s possible, but we can try again, remember? One healthy, full-term baby, two at the most, is the goal.”
“Yes. A healthy baby is all we want.” She gave her husband a tremulous smile. “How long is nine months from next week? I better make sure everything’s ready.”
“Early August. A good birthday month, since it’s yours, too.” The return smile he gave her was strained. “Though everything’s been ready for a long time, hasn’t it?”
“A long time.”
Her voice quavered, and tears filled her eyes. Aaron handed her a tissue he pulled from the box he always kept next to him. The pain and depression, grief and failure that couples struggling with fertility problems felt was often profound. He’d do the best he could to help these two people have the baby they longed for.
And pray they’d be mentally and emotionally prepared for that baby when it came.
He resolutely shoved down the old, faded memories that for some damn reason insisted on resurfacing today and refocused on his patients. He was pretty confident that the ICSI procedure would work for them. That he wouldn’t need to nudge them to think about adoption, the way he did with couples unable to conceive even after medical science had tried everything.
Adoption. The word reminded him that Sue was waiting with his tux, and that, even though he was sure nobody would be worrying about his late arrival, he did want to speak earlier at the adoption fund-raiser he’d organized, rather than later. People loved seeing his slide presentation that showed foster kids becoming a permanent part of happy families, and were even more generous with their donations to plump the foundation’s coffers.
Aaron resisted the urge to glance at his watch. As he’d told Sue, he’d never cut short a meeting with any patient for any reason. Every one of them deserved to be able to ask as many questions as they needed to feel comfortable prior to any procedure. Questions he always answered honestly, even it if was an opinion patients weren’t always ready to hear.
“Thanks so much, Dr. Cartwright.” John stood and shook Aaron’s hand, he and his wife now smiling real smiles. “We’ll see you next week for the big day.”
“Which will hopefully result in an even bigger day next August,” Angela said.
“See you Tuesday morning at eight-thirty.” Aaron opened his office door, and as soon as the patients began walking down the short hall to the office exit Sue appeared again.
“Better get spiffed up fast. You might think none of the highbrow folks at your fund-raiser will wonder why dynamic fertility expert and adoption advocate Dr. Aaron Cartwright is the last to arrive, but I know you want plenty of time to pass the hat. Expert though you are at squeezing cash from the most miserly turnip.”
“Is that a criticism or a compliment?” He had to laugh, at the same time hoping it was true, since every donation helped. “I appreciate you sticking around and getting everything ready. So have you changed your mind about attending?”
“Too rich for my blood at three hundred quid a ticket. Six hundred if I bring Paul.”
“You know you’re both on my guest list. You just like to play the poor, hard-working office manager who isn’t paid enough to look after me.”
She grinned at him. “And how do you know me so well after only three years?”
“Maybe because those exact words come out of your mouth almost daily.” He grinned back. “Come on. Grab a dress and your husband and come have fun. You handled all the details for the thing practically single-handedly. Thanks to you, the band and the food will be great. Besides, you can keep me out of trouble.”
“Another job that’s too hard.” Her eyes twinkled as she patted his arm. “Thanks for putting me on the guest list. And the OBs and midwives who have adoption stories to share, too—that’s so smart of you. But Paul doesn’t enjoy things like that, and I don’t want to go without him. I’m sure it’ll be a huge success just like last year, though. I hope you get lots of new donors and enjoy yourself.”
“Fine. Don’t be jealous when I’m in the newspaper photos of the gala and you’re not.”
“As if I’d be in them anyway. They just want pics of the handsome American doctor who helps patients conceive the baby they want, advocates for adoption of adorable children and who just might be dancing with a beautiful woman.”
“They’re destined for disappointment, then. There’ll be too many people to talk into donating more for me to be distracted by a woman.”
“Unless the right woman is there to distract you. Which I know does happen periodically, though you never let them hang around long, poor things. You’re the most uncatchable doctor in this entire hospital.” She winked. “Hurry and get dressed now. You’re already past late.”
“Yes, Mom.” He took the clothes she shoved into his arms and had to smile at the way she mothered him. Not unlike the way his adoptive mother had, despite how messed up he’d been as a kid, which was challenging as hell for both his parents.
Thankfully, traffic wasn’t quite as bad as usual, and he made it to the hotel quicker than he’d expected. He took a second to catch his breath, surveying the elegantly appointed ballroom.
It was decorated for Christmas with tasteful table decorations of silver and gold balls in sleigh-shaped containers. Shiny twigs and sparkly something-or-others were tucked between them, and red, pink and white poinsettias sat everywhere in eye-catching groups. Big-band music filled the room, the fifteen-piece orchestra he’d hired in full swing. Glittery Christmas trees stood here and there on the edges of the room, flanking the equally glittery women and tuxedo-clad men.
Aaron smiled. Sue had outdone herself. Might just be a record crowd of well-heeled guests, most of them smiling, talking and nibbling on hors d’oeuvres, clearly enjoying themselves.
Opening their wallets, too, which was the whole reason for this event. November was a little early for a Christmas party, but it was better not to compete with all the December holiday stuff going on out there. He had to admit he was proud that, in just three years, this event had become the must-go-to social extravaganza of Cambridge, with people coming from quite a few places well beyond the city. Paying for top-notch entertainment and food was necessary to attract the kind of attendees he needed to reach his fund-raising goals.
His stomach growled as he watched someone take a bite of chicken on a stick. Better grab some food before his belly embarrassed him as he tried to talk to guests. He took a little of everything so he could eliminate any mediocre items from next year’s gala menu. Even if he’d moved on to a different hospital and city by then, he’d have a thick file to pass on to whoever took over after he left.
Aaron had just stuck a bite in his mouth when his gaze was drawn to the doorway. He nearly swallowed a shrimp whole when he saw the vision standing there.
She was tall and graceful, and the cascade of golden blond hair that had caught his eye the first time he’d seen her long ago was instead elegantly piled on top of her head. Wispy tendrils touched her cheeks and the long, slender curve of her neck. Her slim frame was accentuated by a long, pale blue dress that he would guess probably cost a tenth of what most of the women in this room had spent on their clothes, but she looked more gorgeous than any of them. Pretty much every time he’d passed by her in the hospital, he’d been struck by how amazingly good she managed to look in shapeless scrubs. But this woman?
This woman knocked his socks off.
He didn’t know anything about her, except that she was one of the midwives at the hospital. He’d taken a second and third glance at her every time he’d seen her in a hallway, and who wouldn’t? The woman was pure eye candy and obviously smart, too, but since his work didn’t involve delivering the babies he helped parents create, he’d never had the pleasure of her acquaintance.
Maybe tonight was the night to change that. To tell her he was glad that at least a few of the midwives he’d invited had decided to come. To find out over a glass of champagne what adoption stories of patients whose babies she’d delivered she was planning to share with some of the donors. To casually see if there was a wedding ring on her finger...
He went to the lectern standing in front of a retractable screen that had been set up opposite the band to give his presentation. Applause met his speech and the slides he showed of the other Christmas party the foundation hosted each year, where children wanting a home met parents considering adoption. Then more pictures of happy families newly bonded together.
The nods of approval and glowing smiles around the room made him smile, too. A good sign that quite a few folks would give even more than the price their tickets had provided to the charity named after his adoptive parents, The Tom and Caroline Cartwright Foundation. When he was finished speaking he worked the crowd, shaking hands and answering questions.
The music started up again, and as people moved to the dance floor he took advantage of the break to grab a cold sparkling water. He scanned the crowd, hoping to catch another look at the beautiful blonde midwife and maybe introduce himself.
“Nice party you’ve got going here, Aaron.”
He turned to see Sean Anderson standing next to him, holding a plate piled high with shrimp and crab cakes. The Aussie obstetrician had been at Cambridge Royal Maternity Unit for only a month or so, but Aaron had already seen the guy was both dedicated and talented.
“Thanks, but I can’t take credit for all of it. Or any of it, if you ask my office manager. She spent months pulling this together.”
“Deserving or not, take credit when you can. That’s my motto.” Sean grinned. “Even if you didn’t plan the menu or send the invitations, I know you’re the brains behind the whole idea, so kudos to you for that. Placing children with potential adoptive parents, especially older kids, is something anybody can get behind.”
“I hope so. I also hope you and the other OBs will talk to folks about some of your patients who’ve found good homes for their babies, and parents who adopted. Those kinds of personal connections help a lot.”
The man seemed to be looking past Aaron now, and when his response finally came, he sounded distracted. “Uh, yes. Will do.”
Aaron looked over his shoulder and saw Isabel Delamere, another talented Australian OB. It didn’t take much in the way of observation skills to see that her eyes met Sean’s for a long moment. Her usual warm and friendly smile faded, and she turned away.
What was that all about? Sean hadn’t been at CRMU long—surely he didn’t have something going on with beautiful Isabel already? Could there be a professional rift between them? “You and Isabel have some kind of problem?”
“Problem?” Sean’s attention came back to him slowly. “No, of course not.”
But then it was Aaron’s turn to be distracted as the knock-out blonde midwife left the dance floor, leaving her dance partner with a smile before she moved toward the bar next to them.
“Hope!” Sean called out, and she turned. “Great job today on those twins.”
She smiled and stepped closer to them. “Thank you, Dr. Anderson. They were both little peanuts, but I’m relieved they seem to be perfectly healthy.”
Hope. So that was her name. It was the first time he’d been so close to the woman, and he couldn’t help but stare. To notice that her eyes were a mesmerizing dark blue, her skin luminous, her lips full and rosy, and just looking at them made him decide right then and there that he wanted to kiss her.
“I don’t think we’ve ever actually met,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Aaron Cartwright.”
Sean looked at him in surprise. “Sorry, I didn’t realize. But of course, you probably haven’t worked together. Aaron, this is Hope Sanders, a midwife at CRMU, and a darned good one. Hope, Dr. Aaron Cartwright. OB and fertility specialist.”
“We may not have met, but I know who you are, Dr. Cartwright. I’ve had more than one patient able to have the baby she’s longed for, thanks to you.” Her smile lit the room more than the glittering chandeliers as her slender hand shook his. “This is a wonderful party for a wonderful cause. Thanks so much for inviting us. I’ve already talked with a few donors about how your organization helps adoptive parents and children find one another.”
“I appreciate that. I’m glad you were able to make it. Have you—”
“You know, I’ll talk with you later, Aaron,” Sean said, clapping Aaron on the shoulder. “I see someone I need to speak with. Congrats again on the crowd you’ve got here tonight.”
He watched Sean move quickly across the room toward Isabel. He wondered again if they had something going, but whatever might be between them wasn’t any of his business, and he had more interesting things to think about.
Like the very beautiful Hope Sanders.
“I think Sean and I interrupted your trek to the bar. Can I get you something?” He let his gaze roam over her face, fascinated by the exquisite shape of it, her silky brows, a pert nose above the delicately chiseled bow of her lip that tempted a man to explore its shape with his tongue.
“Just water, please. I was thirsty after dancing. The band you have here is fabulous, though I have to admit I’m a little surprised. Doesn’t a party like this take a big chunk of the donations you’re getting?”
“Seems like it would, doesn’t it?” Interesting that she was tuned into that, when most people just enjoyed the extravaganza. “Some people donate generously simply because they understand the need. But I volunteered with a similar foundation in the States, and learned a lot that I’ve applied to this one. For better or worse, a great party with a high cost of admission has an exclusive aura to it. Foundations that spend big money on a fund-raising event like this reach people with the means to donate the most. They feel special, have a good time, and write checks.”
“That seems...wrong.”
“It’s just human nature, which I know you understand well, working with patients all day.” The little pucker over her eyes was cute as hell. “Think of it as a win-win. Everyone has a good time, and the foundation makes money to help families.”
“I guess so.” The pucker vanished as she smiled. “And I admit I’m having a very good time, so thank you again for inviting me.”
“Glad you came.” He tore his gaze from her appealing face, ratcheting back the libido that kept sending his thoughts places they shouldn’t go with a woman he barely knew. “How about water with a glass of champagne on the side? In celebration of the party going off without a hitch.”
“You do know saying something like that is tempting fate? The minute you’re sure there’s not a hitch, some disaster is sure to follow.”
“You think?” Tempting fate? Her teasing smile was tempting all right, and who knew? Maybe fate was involved in that. Bringing her to this party so he could finally meet the woman who consistently grabbed his attention even from a distance.
“Dr. Cartwright. We just wanted to say you’ve put together another wonderful party.”
He turned to the couple at his elbow and recognized them as big donors from last year. Spinning through his brain, he was relieved to come up with their names. “Mr. Adams. Mrs. Adams. Thank you, but my office manager organized it. I just show up. I’m glad you decided to come again this year.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Mr. Adams said.
“Yes, we had a lovely time last Christmas and your foundation is doing such good things. We had a nice talk with Hope, here, who shared a few adoption stories that made us want to contribute even more. What a challenging job being a midwife must be.”
“It can be,” Hope said. “But of course it’s tremendously rewarding to help bring new life into the world, and help the parents as well.” She looked up at Aaron, and the admiration in her eyes surprised him. “Dr. Cartwright’s work is both challenging and impressive. He helps parents have children who didn’t think they could, and this wonderful foundation brings new families together in other ways.”
Aaron nearly fidgeted under the admiring gazes of all three of them. It was the school of hard knocks, not heroism, that motivated the work he did.
“Well, we’re very impressed with it,” Mrs. Adams said. “And now we’re going to enjoy the decadent things on that dessert table.”
After another handshake, they wandered off and Aaron turned to Hope. “Thanks for talking with them. Maybe you’ve veered onto the wrong career path, and sales and marketing are your real calling.”
“Selling things I’m excited about? Easy. Selling itchy socks or bad-tasting toothpaste just because it was my job? I’m pretty sure I’d be an utter failure at that.” The humor in her gaze, the sheer intelligence, drew him closer without even realizing he’d gone there.
He shoved his hands into his pockets, resisting a sudden urge to reach out and sweep away a tendril of hair that had slipped across her eye. Maybe she’d seen him staring at its silkiness, as her slender fingers lifted to her face, shoving it aside. Fingers that weren’t wearing anything resembling a wedding ring.
And that knowledge kindled the hot spark of interest he’d felt the second she’d walked into the room. “I’d suggest again we share some champagne to eliminate all thoughts of bad-tasting toothpaste, but don’t want to be pushy about drinking if you don’t want to.” Champagne was nice, but holding Hope Sanders close in his arms? An entire case of Dom Pérignon couldn’t begin to compare to that kind of ambrosia. “So how about dancing with me instead?”
“Perhaps you haven’t noticed they’ve just finished up a swing tune and aren’t playing at the moment.”
“That’s funny, I hear music. Don’t you?” That fate she’d talked about played right into his hand as a slow song began to echo around the room. She dazzled him with another smile as he reached for her hand, folding its soft warmth within his. He led her onto the floor, and the number of people crowding it made holding her fairly close a necessity he was more than happy about. “This kind of music is more my speed anyway, when it comes to dancing. Which for me mostly consists of rocking from one foot to the other, I’m sorry to say. Not my best talent.”
“So what is your best talent?”
There was almost a seductive quality to her voice and the amazing blue of her eyes looking into his robbed him of breath. He was pretty sure she didn’t realize the way she’d asked the question, and he fought down the desire to press her body even closer to his, along with an offer to show her one of them.
“Hmm, that’s a tough one. I’m good at my job, but I’m not sure that qualifies as a talent. I can kick a mean soccer ball and used to throw a damn good football spiral, too.” He lowered his head close to her ear, and her soft hair tickled his temple. “But probably my best talent?”
“I think I’m sorry I asked.” Her voice was a little breathy, and the sexy sound of it sent him sliding his palm from between her shoulder blades down to just above the curve of her shapely behind, bringing her body closer to his.
“Sorry, why?”
“Afraid that maybe your talent is something my innocent ears can’t handle.”
“Are your ears innocent?” He studied her, amused and curious. Innocent, no, as she clearly was used to sophisticated banter. But there was something guileless about her, a sweetness and sincerity that went beyond appealing. “Don’t worry, I’m a gentleman. Your ears are safe.”
Their bodies swaying together in a fit so perfect it was hard to tell where his body began and hers ended, they danced in silence for long minutes. Her sweet scent filled his nose, and he closed his eyes and breathed her in, holding her close enough to feel the brush of her breasts against his chest. Her forehead grazed his chin and her hand was tucked into his and pressed to his sternum as if they knew each other much better than two people who had met only ten minutes ago.
Aaron had been with quite a few women in his life, and he found himself studying the curve of her ear, the smoothness of her skin, trying to figure out what, exactly, made this feel somehow different. Had he ever felt a connection this instant and intense with anyone before? Or was he just not remembering?
The music drew to a close and they slowly separated, their eyes meeting. Her lips were parted, her skin seemed a little flushed, and it took every ounce of willpower for Aaron to remember they were in a public place in the middle of a hundred people. To remember he couldn’t pull her back into his arms and kiss her until neither of them could breathe.
“You still haven’t told me,” Hope said, apparently trying to bring normalcy back to the moment, replacing the chemistry that was pinging hot and fast between them.
“Told you what?”
“What your best talent is.”
Damn if the curve of her lips wasn’t pure temptation. Temptation to try to impress her by showing her at least one answer to that question.
