Doctor's Orders Box Set (Babies in the Bargain, Right Name, Wrong Man, No More Lies)

by Risk, Mona

  Tomorrow was her turn to be on call for a thirty-six hour shift. She slept with a smile on her face and dreamed of her handsome guest.

  Two days later, Holly arrived home early to see Marc and thank him for the CDs. His car was in the driveway, but he didn’t come out. Did he have a free night? In spite of her exhaustion after a long shift, she smiled, her pulse accelerating at the idea of sharing an evening at home with him.

  Although the last time they were home together, she’d locked herself in her room to study, and he ended up glued to his laptop, working on his research. Two studious roommates. Marc hadn’t stepped out of line once.

  Holly twitched her mouth. She should be satisfied. Her housemate had kept his part of the bargain and behaved like a gentleman. Whether she hid herself under scrubs or glowed in a fetching outfit, his attitude had remained irreproachable. As if he’d developed color blindness. Not a hint of compliment, while she indulged in X-rated fantasies involving him and struggled with inappropriate blushes.

  She unlocked the front door and stepped into her foyer, wishing his indifference, or hopefully his self-control, could rub off on her. “Hello, I’m home.”

  She found a note on the kitchen table and a vase of flowers.

  Hi, Holly, Thank you for everything. Marc.

  The heavy sweet perfume of twelve pink roses kicked her pulse to a faster rhythm, sending warmth to her chest. Her gaze darted to the top of the stairs. He’d given her the tapes and now the flowers. Were his presents the manly way to show he cared? Should she knock on his room and thank him?

  She took the stairs two at a time.

  “Oh, my God,” she squealed with delight as she whirled around on the upper landing, noting the neatness, and entered her bedroom. “I can’t believe it.”

  Marc came running from the baby’s room. “You’re home already?”

  “This?” Ignoring his question, she pointed to the painted walls, her exhaustion flying through the open window with the gentle breeze that ruffled the mauve flowered curtain.

  His eyebrows shot up. “Do you like it? If you don’t, I can tell them to change the color.”

  Being gallant and generous was part of his upbringing. No wonder he was so popular at the hospital. “I love it. Lavender. But—”

  “You said you wanted something that matches your comforter.”

  “Oh, Marc, thank you so much. I thought they were only going to work on the guestrooms for you and the baby. Mine’s not important.” She smiled, happiness bubbling through her. “But it’s so pretty.” Her heart melted with joy, and she struggled not to throw her arms around his neck.

  “They painted the entire second floor.” He took her hand and pulled her out of the room. “The landing is in off white. Come and see the baby’s room. They used the wallpaper you chose. Do you like it?”

  She stood at the door and admired the colorful pattern of blue elephants and yellow giraffes. “I love it. And look at that. They brought the baby furniture, even the rocking chair. The room is complete.”

  The house was clean, back in shape, and the walls painted or papered. All that to please her. Like a loving husband.

  A platonic one at that. Unfortunately.

  “Shh. Paulito is sleeping. Want to see my room?”

  She didn’t recognize the guestroom with clean, beige walls. A queen size bed built of cherry wood occupied the center of the room, with a night table on each side of the bed and a dresser and mirror across from it.

  “They stored the old furniture in the basement.”

  “Thank you, Marc. It’s amazing. Thank you for the CDs, and the flowers, and the painting.” She felt like Cinderella, pampered in her own house. She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. His arms instantly wrapped around her waist and his mouth slanted over hers.

  At last.

  Her knees wobbled.

  I miss you. I want you.

  Her pulse racing, she hooked her arms around his neck. It was inevitable, she thought as she inhaled his clean, masculine smell and returned his kiss with a frenzied mix of passion and trepidation.

  “Holly, my darling,” he whispered between kisses, raking his fingers through her hair.

  His tongue slipped between her parted lips, playing and tormenting. She moaned and clung to him.

  A cry pierced through the air, shaking her out of her daze. She snatched her mouth away. “Paulito.”

  A scorching kiss immediately interrupted. Murphy’s law at its best, or fate trying to warn her off?

  She scrambled out of his arms and hurried to the next room. Marc followed her. She scrunched her nose as she picked up the wailing infant. “I have to change him.”

  “I’ll fix him a bottle. And then you’ll tell me about your last two days.”

  Her heart pounding, she watched Marc’s delicious mouth, the lower lip wider and lusher than the upper. She sighed, still wanting to nibble on that lip.

  She wanted Marc badly, but not for a night or two. A long time ago, she’d dreamed of loving words and a sweet proposal. Now these dreams were invading her mind like a recurring hurricane.

  Was she going nuts? They’d have to survive two more months in this house.

  Thank you, Paulito. “You’re my guardian angel, sweetheart. Although your method is a bit unorthodox,” she said with a chuckle. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She changed the baby and then settled in the rocking chair, holding him against her heart.

  Marc came back and handed her a bottle. “So, what’s going on at the hospital?”

  She shrugged and gave Paulito his formula. “To be honest, I’d rather not talk business tonight. When did the painters do all this? Three days ago the house was still a mess.”

  “Yes, the stripping and preparation of the walls took longer than expected and longer than the actual painting. The baby and I went to sleep at my place while they worked on his room.”

  “Good idea. I wouldn’t have liked Paulito around paint fumes.” She sniffed right and then left, testing the air. “They did a good job of airing out the place.” She put the baby against her shoulder for a burp and then laid him in his crib.

  “Come.” His hand on her back, Marc led her out of the room. “Let’s get a drink and dinner.”

  In the kitchen, he told her to sit at the dining table and relax. “I’ll fix us a piña colada. A real Puerto Rican one.” She raised her eyebrows. “The movers brought a box of my liquors with the furniture.”

  She laughed. Typical male. He couldn’t live without his favorite drinks. He handed her a glass and tasted his. “What do you think?”

  “Mmm. Delicious.” She liked the bittersweet drink and liked her barman even more.

  He filled a bowl with Tostitos and a smaller one with salsa, and set them in front of her. “Help yourself to the hors d’oeuvres. We’ll have pasta à la Suarez for dinner.” With a flourish, he put on her apron and filled a pot with water.

  Whoever said Marc was not marriage material had to have her head examined. Holly couldn’t believe she’d reached this conclusion after hosting Marc and his baby less than four weeks.

  “Pasta à la Suarez?” She chuckled. “May I have the recipe?”

  “Sure. You boil the pasta, fry herbs and garlic, add shrimp, and voilà.”

  “It sounds so simple.” She wished she could run upstairs for her camera. Her flowered apron and his boyish expression contrasted with his self–confident, male charm. An irresistible combination.

  “It’s one of Abuelita’s specialties. But you’ll have to promise to tell her I cooked it myself. She’d never believe I can cook. Or any man for that matter.”

  Holly watched him curiously. She nodded, not knowing how to answer.

  Marc opened a bag of precooked shrimp and poured it in the pan, then drained the noodles and mixed them with the shrimps and herbs. “Dinner will be ready in five minutes, Madam. I mean Doctor.”

  He sat across from her, raised his glass and clicked it against hers. “To your health. Salud.”


  She swallowed her drink, loving the sweet taste of the piña colada, loving the endearment she’d previously resented, and loving the handsome face so close to hers.

  God, was she already drunk?

  He sipped his drink and held her gaze, never wavering from her eyes. His face seemed so close as he played with a lock of her hair. Closer and closer.

  His lips slowly brushed her mouth and settled on it. The contact came smoothly. As if it were the most natural thing in the world. She tasted his lower lip, felt its sensual texture and nibbled on it like a starved puppy. He let her have her way and trailed his tongue along the contour of her mouth.

  A spicy aroma enveloped them. Marc pulled back and exhaled. “I shouldn’t burn the dinner.”

  To hell with dinner. She was the one about to combust tonight.

  She sighed as he went back to the stove and spooned the pasta and shrimp onto two plates. She wanted to offer her help, but doubted she could keep her legs steady enough to stand.

  Piña colada had never had such a dazing effect on her nerves. Not half a glass. But then the kiss he gave her as an appetizer was headier than a drink.

  Marc put the two plates on the table and took his place. “Buen provecho.”

  “Bon appétit,” Holly answered and then tasted her food. “Dee-li-cious. You really have potential.”

  “Thanks.”

  While eating, she chatted about Paulito, avoiding hospital subjects. Marc cleared his plate in a few minutes and brought two big bowls of ice cream for dessert. She chuckled and slid her bowl toward him. “I’m full. You can have both.”

  “Not even a taste? It’s mango sorbet.”

  He filled a spoon and handed it to her. She licked it with delight and suddenly stopped. Marc was staring at her, watching the little dance of her tongue. She blushed and gulped the rest of her sorbet. With effort, she pushed back from the table, grabbed her plates, and walked to the sink.

  In an effort to cool her mind, she washed dishes and scrubbed pots and pans. To no avail. Her flesh yearned for his touch.

  Marc remained seated in his chair, his gaze focused on the sorbet he was eating.

  “I’d better go study now. Thank you for a lovely dinner. Good night.” She passed him and went to the stairs. Midway up, she paused and turned around. Would he call her back or try to follow her?

  “Night,” he grumbled without moving.

  She sighed and continued up the stairs.

  “Holly?”

  “Yes?” Her heart drumming against her ribs, she went down two steps, ready to dash all the way to his arms.

  He poured himself a drink of Piña colada. “I hope you’re not disappointed with our arrangement.” He tilted his head up. His gaze focused on her while he swirled the liquid in his glass.

  “Oh.” She stifled a frustrated wail. “No, I’m not.”

  How could she be? Marc was following the rules she’d set to the letter. A roommate arrangement, a business proposal. At the moment, she wished he would take her in his arms, and the hell with the rules.

  He downed half of his glass and clanked it on the table. “So, you don’t regret your decision?”

  “Uh.” She frowned and slumped onto the first step of the stairs as she seriously considered his question.

  For a woman who’d banished the thought of marriage and family to concentrate on her career, sharing Paulito’s love and the responsibility for his care with Marc was the ideal arrangement. “Actually, I’m quite happy with my decision. I like having Paulito around.”

  “Paulito? Hmm.”

  She swallowed when he arched his eyebrows. “And you, too.”

  Oh yes. Warmth rippled over her skin. She loved having Marc around. Probably more than she should.

  He chuckled and shook his head. “You’re so gracious.”

  “Honestly, you’ve been very helpful.” Absolutely great. Her body tingled with need, but her mind warned, Don’t play with fire. “I mean it.”

  “Thank you.”

  All in all, she was pretty pleased with her decision. A temporary arrangement she was getting used to with incredible ease. As if it were meant to last forever.

  What would happen after the nanny came?

  Goosebumps sprouted over her arms. She already knew the answer. Marc would move out of Holly’s house as planned. Out of her life.

  No, please. Her heart screamed as her knees weakened.

  Forget the future. Take one day at a time and enjoy it.

  “Marc, I don’t regret my decision. Our arrangement is working very well.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “This arrangement isn’t working at all.” Sitting at his office desk at WCH, Marc hissed the words through clenched teeth.

  Technically, he had been sharing Holly’s house for a month now. In fact, he hardly saw her. A couple of C-sections on the same team, a few minutes here or there to answer her medical questions, or a quick exchange of instructions about the baby’s feeding and sleeping on their way in and out of her place.

  He had promised he’d be the correct, reputable roommate. But at what cost? He missed Holly. He wanted to hold her, cover her face and body with caresses and kisses, keep her tucked in his arms after a long night of love.

  His blood buzzed in his brain and rushed south.

  Damn it, it’s not working.

  He’d taken more cold showers in the last month than in his entire life. How long could he cope with this look-from-afar-but-don’t-touch situation he’d created for himself?

  Of course their cohabitation had been ideal for Paulito. Even if Marc was paying the price with a continual frustrated state of arousal.

  Marc stared at the picture on his computer screen. Holly smiling, with Paulito in her arms. He’d snapped the photo the day after he moved in with her. It had become his screen saver, and the focus of everything he held dear.

  A knock on the door pulled him out of his contemplation. “Come in.”

  A resident from his research team entered and approached his desk. “It’s not working. They didn’t make it.”

  “What? Who died?” Admiring the gorgeous turquoise eyes that could make him forget the world, Marc wondered if he’d missed important information about one of his patients. Unable to concentrate with Holly smiling at him, he clicked on his mouse and closed the picture.

  “The mice I administered the new anesthetic to. Two out of three died,” the resident explained.

  “Why? I’ve never had trouble with this drug before.”

  The young man took a step back, rubbing his hands nervously. Marc raked his fingers through his hair. He shouldn’t hold the poor guy responsible for his own crappy mood.

  “Have a seat. Let’s go through the procedure.” Marc scribbled the chemical equation and carefully reviewed notes and calculations with the young man. “You’ve injected the animals with the wrong dose.”

  The resident swallowed. “Dr. Suarez, I followed the procedure to the letter.”

  Marc sucked in a deep breath. An incorrect dosage. No wonder the mice died. He’d have blamed the resident for this inexcusable mistake. But it wasn’t the resident’s fault. Marc made the mistake. Him? The eminent doctor? A lack of concentration on the first step of his research. What was happening to him?

  “Repeat the experiment.” He tore a page from his notepad. “Here. Use these numbers.”

  “Yes, sir.” The young man scurried out.

  In need of a morale boost, Marc clicked on his keyboard. Holly’s angelic face popped in front of him. He trailed a finger on the screen, on the golden mane that always dazzled him. He was sick of his office, sick of cloistering himself away from her. He needed Holly the same way he needed air or food, except that recently, any morsel he swallowed mingled with regrets and clogged his throat.

  His self-imposed celibacy weighed heavily, especially during the nights they were both at home. He’d coped so far, for Paulito’s sake.

  But meanwhile, his research stagnated. Residents and
nurses avoided him, afraid of his scowl and the unusual curtness of his orders, and conversation hushed when he came near a group.

  Even Holly didn’t smile anymore.

  At work, he treated her like a colleague and at home he acted like a monk. How could he put zest in their relationship? He pounded on the desk.

  What relationship?

  He’d dedicated fifteen years of his life to medical study and training with never a free moment. At twenty, after Mama’s death and Papa’s paralysis, he was transformed overnight into head of a large and turbulent family.

  Poor Papa, he’d remained sunk into his wing chair, eyes vague, breath reeking of alcohol, a bottle of whiskey pressed against his heart, unable to function without the woman he’d put on a pedestal. Marc would never allow himself to fall head over heels in love and then suffer a thousand hells as his father had when his beloved wife died. At fifty, Papa had looked like a shriveled old drunk. A sure red flag for love and marriage.

  Except that his dear Abuelita was a pro at manipulation, and had her heart set on seeing Marc married, with a full-time mother and several children at his side.

  Married? Him? That’ll be the day. He smiled fondly at the pair of turquoise eyes facing him on the screen. They belonged to a gorgeous woman—a damn good doctor, not a prospective full-time mama.

  Back in San Juan, his family was doing great and didn’t need him anymore. Time to live. Really live.

  There had to be a solution. Medication without side effects.

  He’d promised to behave while they cohabitated—when they were inside her house. A Suarez always kept his promise.

  Leaning his elbows on his desk, he held his head between the palms of his hands and tried to remember the exact words of his pledge.

  If she agreed to live under his roof, he swore he’d never take advantage of their proximity in the same house.

  But he never mentioned anything about enforcing his strict rules in the outside world.

  That’s it. Take her out. Invite her on a date.

  Would she accept? Maybe.